Overview
Ruled by Garret Kendal, youngest son of Duke Kendal of Dorchak, the small barony of Da’Thanis has recently prospered and come into its own from its previous state as a dangerous backwater. The barony is only composed of the central city of Da’Thanis, which is situated on the shores of the Dorchak river. The native people of this region have long adapted to the harsh realities of life in this stange environment, living on the open plains, with enormous seasonal weather fluctuations. When I traveled through this region the first time I was but a boy, I saw the long legged horses of these people, prized throughout the kingdom for their courage and stamina, and was in awe of them. The horses here are especially tall and beautiful and have adapted to the tall grasslands of the Bonnifus plains quite well. The waving stalks here rise between six and eight feet in height, towering over men, and concealing predators and prey alike. In order to survive and protect themselves the plainsfolk of Da’Thanis have become a warrior society in which children learn to ride before they learn to walk. Here man and horse live as one, each incapable of survival without the other. In order to better protect the horses, they are barded in boiled leather to protect their soft bellies from the razor grass and the belly worms. I once saw a horse dragging three of these disgusting parasites along as they attempted to burrow through his armor, their wide heads concealing rows of teeth, but no eyes. The rider had to wait until he reached the safety of his village in order to get help removing them, and he spoke to his horse as she ran like other men would speak to a lover.
Young Garret took command of this Barony personally, knowing that he would not be needed to oversee anything in Dorchak and feeling a driving need to prove himself against the world. At first the people here did not trust him, or appreciate his presence, but I hae been told that he spent two years in a peasant’s hovel, until all of the homes in Da’Thanis had been raised from the ground on stilts and fired bricks. He then spent a further year riding patrol and making sure that every person in his demense knew him by name. The people have grown to love and respect Garret as no other outsider. He has become ‘Their tough little baron’ and they say it with pride and would follow him anywhere from what I have seen. I once recall witnessing a drover cursing the baron for not laying better roads along the shore, which is quite a normal curse in the other places I have visited, but the words had scarcely left his mouth before half a dozen daggers appeared in the hands of those nearest him. I have never seen a drover apologize that quickly either for that matter. But the pride of these people in their baron is not the only factor that sets them apart from other lands. Here, where people are sparse, and dangers great, it is considered a great honor to be a farmer. The dangers in farming are far greater than many of the other occupations, and the peasants here travel armed with twelve foot spears, made of long narrow sprouts. The spears are used to stab the giant moles which destroy the crops from underground and to fend of all forms of grass snakes that enjoy snacking on the unwary farmer.
I asked why the grass wasn’t simply cut down to prevent these many creatures from hiding in its depths, and they revealed to me the secret of the plains. The grass here is not only razor sharp, it grows close to a foot in a day. A week after it has been cut it returns to its original size!
I must also pass on a warning about the other dangerous creatures that inhabit the plains. Ever present are the wyverns. These are great flying serpents with two legs and wide leathery wings. They wing overhead searching for prey and have been known to eat horse and man alike. It is against the danger of these creatures that many of the men and women of Da’Thanis have taken to carrying horse bows of late. They become well practiced in shooting on the run.
Even worse than the wyverns though are the Snow Lizards, called Ga’nishto. In the winter, when the snow piles nearly to the head of men, and the people hear walk on its surface with giant shoes of bound grass lathes, these deadly beasts hunt men for sport. They run so fast that they seem to blur to the eyes, and leave a trail of falling mist behind them. On the rare occasions that they have been killed, their overheated bodies have melted the snow for several feet in all directions. It seems though that there is nothing of magic about them. According to the stories of the old peasant here, the Ga’nishto become hot in their running, nearly destroying themselves with their own heat in the pursuit of prey. It is this that allows them to run down anything else on Phantera. One old man even told me that he once watched one of the snow lizards burst into flame on a snowy day as it raced across the ice. The creature died twisting, just feet short of him, cooked by its own exersion.