In the deep reaches of the Simmaron Forest, where ancient trees cast long shadows and the whisper of the wild remains ever-present, stands Homewood—a frontier settlement born of necessity and sustained by courage. This woodland outpost exists at the edge of civilization, where the comforts of the known world yield to the mysteries and dangers of the untamed wilderness beyond.
Like so many border settlements scattered across the wild frontiers of Vranna, Homewood began as a place of safety amidst an inhospitable and often dangerous wilderness. The first settlers were a hardened lot: trappers, hunters, backwoodsmen, and farmers who understood that survival on the frontier demanded both strength and vigilance. These early pioneers often congregated at what would become Homewood, seeking provisions, shelter, and protection from the night's denizens. What started as a seldom-visited way station gradually transformed into something more permanent, more substantial—a true community carved from the forest itself.
Even in those early days, Homewood enjoyed the protection of the Simmaron Hall. The King's Patrol had been there for as long as anyone could remember, guarding Vranna's frontier against goblin invasion while maintaining a vigilant eye for other dangers. The presence of the patrollers proved instrumental to Homewood's growth. As the settlement evolved from a temporary refuge into a burgeoning community, the comforting presence of the patrollers and their Hall helped attract additional permanent residents. Families willing to risk the frontier found reassurance in knowing that trained warriors stood ready to defend them against the threats that lurked in the forest depths.
The relationship between Homewood and the Hall of the Wood runs deeper than mere proximity. The patrollers depend on the town for supplies, provisions, and the occasional respite from their duties in the wild. In turn, Homewood's very existence relies upon the protection the Hall provides. This mutual dependence has forged bonds between the two communities that transcend simple convenience—they are lifelines to one another in a land where isolation can prove fatal.
The town itself reflects the practical nature of frontier life. A wooden palisade rings the entire settlement, its logs standing so high that not even the roofs of the buildings within peek over the top. This defensive wall serves as Homewood's first and most important protection against the dangers of the Simmaron. A single large gate provides the only entrance, and though it typically stands open during daylight hours to welcome travelers and merchants, it closes tight at nightfall. Guards maintain constant watch at the gate, questioning newcomers and ensuring that nothing unwelcome gains entry after dark.
Within the palisade, Homewood presents itself as a collection of sturdy structures lining a main street that runs through the heart of the settlement. The buildings bear the marks of frontier construction—functional, solid, built to last rather than to impress. Jay's Tavern stands as one of the rare two-story structures, its weathered sign bearing faded letters and carved images of two frothy flagons nearly tipped over and spilling their contents. This establishment serves as the social center of Homewood, where locals and travelers alike gather to share news, strike deals, and find temporary shelter from the elements.
The main street hosts a variety of essential enterprises. Homewood's guard station stands ready to respond to threats both within and without. Blek Thunderaxe's carpentry shop provides the skilled woodwork necessary for maintaining buildings and creating furniture suitable to frontier life. Rupert's Trading Post serves as the commercial heart of the community, where goods from distant Brinnok meet the raw materials harvested from the Simmaron—furs, timber, herbs, and other forest bounty. Across the way, Davlin's Fur and Tannery processes the pelts brought in by trappers, transforming raw hides into valuable leather goods. Next to it, Homewood's abattoir operates under the skilled hands of a third-generation butcher, providing meat to sustain the community.
The blacksmith's shop, run by the capable Varg, stands as another vital establishment. Here, tools are repaired, horseshoes fitted, and weapons maintained—essential services in a place where a broken axe or dulled blade can mean the difference between success and failure in the wilderness. A livery provides stabling for horses and pack animals, offering care for the beasts that transport goods along Belkin's Way, the road connecting Homewood to the wider world.
Beyond the main street, cabins line branching roads. Some shelter year-round residents who have made Homewood their permanent home, families who have committed themselves to frontier life despite its hardships. Other cabins stand empty until wealthy merchants arrive seeking privacy and accommodations away from the noise and bustle of the tavern. These structures, though simpler than what one might find in Brinnok or other established cities, represent the dreams and labor of those who have chosen to build their lives at civilization's edge.
The people of Homewood embody the frontier spirit. They are practical folk who understand that survival depends upon hard work, mutual support, and vigilance. Trappers like Old Man Jasper, who has plied his trade in the Simmaron for longer than most can remember, represent the community's deep connection to the forest. These experienced woodsmen know the land's secrets, understand its rhythms, and provide valuable knowledge about the creatures and conditions that prevail in the wilderness. Their expertise proves invaluable not only for their own success but for warning the community of potential dangers.
The town's leadership rests in the hands of Billard, a balding man with a short beard and a round waist who serves as mayor. Billard possesses an enthusiastic, almost effusive nature that stands in contrast to the more reserved demeanor of many frontier folk. He waves his arms about when excited, bubbles with energy when greeting newcomers, and takes his responsibilities to the community seriously—even if his methods sometimes appear unorthodox to outsiders. The mayor understands that Homewood's survival depends not only on the protection provided by the Hall, but on maintaining connections to the wider world through trade and diplomacy.
Homewood exists in a delicate balance with its surroundings. The Simmaron Forest provides sustenance and livelihood—timber for building, game for food, furs for trade, and herbs for medicine. Yet the forest also harbors dangers. Goblins from the fortress of Greth in the Ugull Mountains represent a constant threat, their raids testing the vigilance of both the patrollers and Homewood's own defenders. Other creatures prowl the depths of the Simmaron, some merely dangerous, others actively malevolent. The residents of Homewood understand these risks. They made their choice to live here with full knowledge of what frontier life demands.
The relationship between Homewood and distant Brinnok proves complex and sometimes frustrating. Brinnok, the nearest major city, lies several weeks' travel away. Though the city's merchants benefit from Homewood's position as a source of forest goods and as a waypoint for travelers, Brinnok's leaders have historically proven reluctant to provide assistance when needed. They rely on the patrollers of the Simmaron Hall to guard their frontiers, to warn of goblin activity, and to slay any creature threatening their lands. Yet when the patrollers themselves require aid—as when bandits established themselves in the forest—Brinnok's dignitaries invent excuse after excuse for their inability to help. This one-sided relationship breeds resentment among Homewood's residents, who feel abandoned by those who should be their allies.
Trade remains vital to Homewood's survival. Caravans regularly travel Belkin's Way, bringing goods from Brinnok and beyond while transporting Simmaron products back to hungry markets in the south. These trading ventures employ wagon masters and guards, providing employment and ensuring the flow of essential supplies. The outgoing caravans depart in the morning, their wagons loaded with furs, timber, and other forest bounty. Return caravans bring manufactured goods, foodstuffs that cannot be produced locally, and news from the wider world. This commerce sustains Homewood's economy and maintains its connection to civilization.
The road itself bears the name Belkin's Way, though locals sometimes refer to it as Bandits' Way—a nickname earned during a period when thieves and murderers plagued travelers. The road's proper name honors Lord Belkin, a knight of old who held off a force of a hundred goblins from the Ugulls while refugees fled to safety. The battle supposedly took place near Holden Bridge, somewhere along the path of the road. In Lord Belkin's honor, and because the bridge already bore a name, it was decided to name the road after him. The later bandit troubles, eventually resolved by Vrannan regulars and the patrollers, added the more cynical nickname that persists among some travelers.
Community life in Homewood centers around mutual support and shared vigilance. Children play in the streets when weather permits, their games often involving attempts to catch Ash, the dog belonging to the patroller Jerrick, by his tail. Women gather to share gossip and news while tending to daily tasks. Men congregate at Jay's Tavern or around the various workshops, discussing everything from weather conditions to goblin sightings to the quality of the latest fur harvest. Old Man Jasper, a permanent fixture on the tavern's porch wrapped in his quilted blanket, serves as an unofficial keeper of stories and local history, his tales entertaining visitors and residents alike.
The settlement maintains its own security forces beyond the protection provided by the Hall. Local guards man the gate and patrol the palisade, watching for threats. These men wear chain hauberks with leather pants and boots, carrying short-bladed swords whose well-worn hilts testify to long service. While perhaps not as skilled as the patrollers of the King's Patrol, these guards understand their duty and stand ready to defend their homes and families against whatever dangers might arise.
Despite the hardships inherent to frontier life, Homewood's residents have created something meaningful at the edge of civilization. They have carved homes from the wilderness, raised families in the shadow of ancient trees, and built a community bound by shared struggles and common purpose. These people toiled and suffered to make something from nothing. They possess an understanding that picking up and leaving represents not merely inconvenience but the abandonment of everything they have worked to create. Their courage in the face of constant danger merits both admiration and respect, even if outside observers might question the wisdom of remaining in such a precarious position.
The town's relationship with visitors reflects the complex nature of frontier hospitality. Homewood has always welcomed travelers, whether frequent visitors or newcomers, during daylight hours. The gate stands open to merchants, trappers returning from the wilderness, and heroes answering calls for aid. Yet this openness comes tempered with caution. In recent times, as troubles mount and uncertainty grows regarding the fate of the Hall, even this traditional hospitality has taken on a more guarded character. The people remain welcoming, but their eyes carry the weight of worry, their movements the tension of those who understand that their world might be about to change in fundamental ways.
When crisis threatens—whether from goblin incursions, mysterious disappearances, or other dangers—Homewood's limitations become starkly apparent. The town lacks the resources to mount major military operations or conduct extensive rescue missions. Its population, while hardy and capable, consists primarily of civilians whose skills lie in trapping, farming, trading, and craftsmanship rather than warfare. This reality means that when the Hall faces serious threats, Homewood can offer little beyond supplies, shelter, and the hope that others might answer calls for aid. The mayor's decision to issue a Call of Heroes when communication with the Hall ceased demonstrated both the community's desperation and its understanding of its own limitations.
The surrounding farmlands contribute to Homewood's survival, providing food to supplement what can be hunted or foraged from the forest. These outlying properties push even further into the wilderness than the town itself, their owners accepting even greater risks in exchange for the opportunity to work productive land. Smoke drifting from farmhouse chimneys and dim lights shining through drawn drapes often represent the only signs of life in these isolated homesteads. The farmers maintain loose connections with the town, bringing produce to market and seeking shelter within the palisade when danger threatens, but they largely lead independent lives shaped by the rhythms of agriculture and the demands of frontier existence.
In times of peace, life in Homewood follows predictable patterns. Morning brings activity to the main street as merchants open their shops, craftsmen begin their work, and the market comes alive with trade. Wagons loaded with produce or chicken pens rattle along the muddy thoroughfare. Trappers depart for days or weeks in the wilderness, their packs loaded with supplies and their eyes bright with the prospect of a profitable hunt. Children attend to chores or play under the watchful eyes of parents who understand that even within the palisade, vigilance remains necessary. Evenings find families gathering for meals, sharing stories of the day's events, and preparing for the night ahead.
Jay's Tavern serves as the heart of social life in Homewood. The dwarven proprietor, Jay himself, maintains an establishment that provides hot food, strong drink, and clean beds to travelers while offering locals a place to gather and share news. The common room hosts conversations that range from mundane concerns about weather and trade to more serious discussions of threats glimpsed in the forest or troubling news from the Hall. Upstairs rooms provide accommodation for those with coin to spend, while the tavern's porch offers a comfortable spot for observing street life and engaging in casual conversation with passersby.
The market, though smaller than what one would find in Brinnok or other established cities, serves Homewood's commercial needs adequately. Here, local producers offer their goods alongside items brought by traveling merchants. Furs, leather goods, smoked meats, dried herbs, handcrafted tools, and simple furniture change hands regularly. Merchants from Brinnok bring manufactured goods, exotic foodstuffs, quality fabrics, and other items difficult to produce on the frontier. The exchange benefits both sides—Homewood gains access to goods it cannot make itself, while Brinnok's merchants profit from the valuable raw materials the frontier provides.
Religious and spiritual life in Homewood tends toward the practical rather than the elaborate. The settlement lacks the grand temples or extensive clergy found in larger communities. Instead, faith manifests in simpler forms—prayers offered before dangerous journeys, blessings spoken over newborns, and gratitude expressed for successful harvests or safe returns from the wilderness. The proximity of the Simmaron, with its ancient trees and mysterious depths, instills a certain respect for natural forces and the unknown powers that might dwell within the forest. Some residents speak of the forest itself as possessing awareness or intention, though whether they truly believe such things or merely express metaphorical respect remains unclear.
Education in Homewood follows informal patterns suited to frontier life. Children learn practical skills from their parents and other adults—how to work wood, cure leather, identify edible plants, recognize dangerous creatures, track game, and perform the countless tasks necessary for survival. Reading and writing, while valued, receive less emphasis than in more settled regions. Those families who prioritize literacy often teach their children themselves, sometimes supplemented by visiting merchants or retired patrollers who possess education beyond the norm. The focus remains on preparing young people for the realities of frontier existence rather than on academic pursuits that might prove less immediately useful.
Weather plays an outsized role in Homewood's daily life. Rain can turn the main street into a muddy morass, complicate travel along Belkin's Way, and force postponement of activities requiring dry conditions. Snow, when it comes, can isolate the community for days or weeks, making travel dangerous and cutting off trade until conditions improve. Residents have learned to read the signs of changing weather, to prepare for harsh conditions, and to adapt their plans to accommodate nature's whims. The frontier allows little room for those who cannot accept that human intentions sometimes must yield to environmental realities.
The future of Homewood remains uncertain, tied as it is to the fate of the Hall of the Wood and the continued protection of the King's Patrol. Should the patrollers fall or abandon their post, Homewood would find itself exposed to threats it lacks the resources to combat alone. The goblin fortress of Greth, held in check by the patrollers' vigilance, would likely become a source of raids and possibly full-scale invasion. Other dangers lurking in the Simmaron's depths might grow bolder without the patrollers to oppose them. Yet the people of Homewood have proven their resilience time and again. They chose this life with full knowledge of its challenges, and they have built something worth defending. Whatever comes, they will face it with the same courage and determination that brought them to the frontier in the first place.
Homewood stands as a testament to human perseverance in the face of wilderness and danger. It represents the determination to create community and civilization even in the most challenging environments. The settlement's very existence speaks to the courage of those who refuse to be driven from the lands they have claimed, who build homes and raise families despite constant threats, and who maintain hope that their sacrifices will create opportunities for future generations. In the shadow of the ancient Simmaron, ringed by a wooden palisade that represents both protection and isolation, Homewood endures—a beacon of civilization at the edge of the wild.