Southeast Schrote!

The southeast of Schrote is by far the worst portion of the bishopric; except in comparison perhaps to all the others. It is divided more or less into two parts. To the north are the lower regions of the Schrotewald. The forest, like the few poor woodfolk that live there, is often rather dense, with dank knooks and openings that are better left unexplored; but it is cut through by a number of tracks, the navigability of which varies depending upon the weather. The main tracks come together in an open clearing marked by the remains of a petrified tree - 'Flumpe's Stumpe', as it is known. There, in summer, a fair is held, though this 'fair' actually has much in common, in terms of its safety, hospitality, and profitability, with a honey fight at a bears-only bare-knuckle contest.

To the south, the country consists of more open ground: meadows, thickets, and rolling hills. There are, in testament to the triumph of hope over experience, a number of farms - Piggel's Farm, Schaffrem Farm, and Alte Zackdonaus Farm. However, the main settlements in this area are three villages, Hanau-Brancau, Schuttorf, and Bad Singen, each with a population of around two hundred, the number depending upon whether it is time to pay their taxes. The hamlet of Ehrwig contains about a hundred souls. For those trapped in this part of Schrote and looking for entertainment, then punching oneself repeatedly in the face and then retiring to bed is likely to be the best option. However, for those determined to live on the mild side, there is one older landmark - an ancient cairn to the east - which might be of some interest to the educated traveller, and which local intellectuals have named 'The Thingie'. It is, as the cathedral records, ah, record, really, really old and is almost certainly probably part of an ancient pagan sun clock, astronomical device, or hat stand. 

The main road through through the three villages connects the town of Schrote to the border. This road is fine for wagons and artillery, unless it rains heavily; in which case it tends to take on the same viscosity as a Mittelheim soup, and has much the same taste, no doubt.