The Shrouded Fens

Category: Folk

  • Florivane

    Florivane is a presence before she is a name — a scent of crushed thyme and meadow-sweet, fingers that linger in touch like sunlight through leaves. She hums without meaning to, notes looping like a spell half-remembered: discordant, gentle, strange. There’s something in her rhythm — a pulse of life that doesn’t hurry, yet never…

  • Primavelda

    Primavelda walks like a question no one dares to ask. Tall and lean, with wind-frayed plaits woven close around her head, her presence carries the scent of storm-wet bark and midnight stone. She was grown in the free and giving soil of the Braids — tended not in obligation, but in community, shadow, and choice.…

  • Devlin

    Devlin, stoneworker of Grimblethorpe, hews boundary markers and troughs with a sure hand. Quiet, steady, sharp-eyed—his work speaks louder than he does, especially when discretion’s needed.

  • Kallhor of Farra

    Read about Kallhor in The Story of Kallhor: Origins

  • Alda of Farra

    Alda of Farra carried the quiet authority of someone who knew what was needed and would see it through. Steady, uncompromising, she worked dyes with the same patience she brought to her family — expecting things done properly, but never without warmth. If her daughter, Stellan’s loyalty and devotion had a root, it was here.…

  • Ethar of Oskerra

    Ethar came from Oskerra, once among those who ferried between the isles, carrying provisions and news from shore to shore. It was work done to the sea’s own rhythm — not loud or storied, but steady as breathing. In time he settled on Farra with Alda, trading the passage between islands for a place at…

  • Una Bard

    Una of Bardney Fens holds fast to fairness and fen memory. Stubborn, sharp-eyed, she lives lean, grows wild things, and won’t bend to Evergild ways.

  • Derrick Hale

    From Ferwell’s forge came steady work and quiet song. A smith’s son, square-nailed and calloused, he whistled while shaping iron—more tune than talk in him.

  • Corenna Hale

    Born of western smiths, she ruled Kellack’s market with polish and precision. Beneath the great elm, her stall gleamed—cloth brushed, jars shining, every detail exacting.

  • Pellinette Vance

    “Of course, I wouldn’t dream of naming names. That would be vulgar.” Columnist. Social savant. Delicate menace. Current Column: Between the RibbonsPublication: The Velvet QuillHome: LindralRace: Lesser fae (secret)Marital Status: Married to Bertram Vance, amateur botanist Quote most likely to precede disaster:“She meant well, I’m sure.” To the untrained eye, Pellinette Vance is a confection…