At the very heart of Albion lies Wodehallow, a realm veiled in perpetual mist. Forests here are ancient and thick, rivers run dark beneath willow boughs, and the ground itself hums with forgotten power. Travelers say the land shifts when unlooked upon — paths turn, stones wander, and faerie lights beckon from the shadows.
The wild men of Wodehallow, known as the Wodes, are painted in spirals of blue and green, their bodies daubed with the colors of forest and earth. They live as hunters, guardians, and warriors of the mist. Fierce in battle, they embody the spirit of the untamed land itself — half mortal, half myth. Some believe they are the last remnants of Albion’s first people.
The true rulers of Wodehallow are the Druidic Circle of the Nine: nine archdruids who weave their will through the roots, rivers, and stones of Albion. They revere the Old Gods — the sun, moon, storm, and soil — and believe that Arthur’s soul is bound to the land itself. To them, his death was no ending, but a wounding of Albion’s spirit. They await his healing return.
Wodehallow resists both the zeal of the Grail and the iron tyranny of Mordred. The Old Ways hold strongest here: oaths sworn by oak and stone, sacrifices laid upon sacred altars, prophecies whispered by the wind. Though many knights see them as heathens or witches, the druids view themselves as Albion’s last true guardians.
To the Grail zealots, Wodehallow is a heretical wilderness, ripe for crusade.
To Mordred, it is a prize yet unconquered, its people too stubborn to kneel.
To the fae courts, it is contested ground, where mortal and otherworld bleed together.
Here, travelers may find aid, prophecy, or peril — for Wodehallow serves only the balance of Albion.