The Bloodbroken Table: It might have Shiverhazel Forest: The Forest promises The Triad: Grass gives way

he Triad: Grass gives way to scattered The Dark: In the northeastern reach of the
been a network of dead cities, once, this comfort and ease for all who obey the hills, and the great trees grow scarce -- and Forest, in a broad and shallow depression in
gently rolling plain of rough golden-pink Forest's unwritten laws. Here mosses grow there they are. Three great peaks, snow- the earth, the soil grows soft, the
grass and stony outcrops; there's still glassy deep and soft; here the ghostly vines of capped, crowned with halos of eternal undergrowth thorny and dense and
ribbons rhere and there, pockmarked and winterberries trail across fallen giants filled clouds, as if sculpted and dropped in place implacable. Oh, the hawthorns will offer
half buried but still visible, and some of with the work of gently buzzing hives; by an unseen hand. their bounty, worrisome though it may be;
those outcrops are more tangles of glass. shiverhazels reach skyward despite the the undergrowth abounds with golden
Sometimes blackened bits of armour and weight of the harvest. Perhaps they were, because the Triad are morels and delicate sugarcaps.
arrowheads bright as the sun work their way dark and splintering stone like nothing
up. Sometimes glassy spectres do. Do not shed deers’ blood, even warriors. found in the Scattered Hills that surround At the centre of this long-healed wound
Drink only from rain pools, not running them. Folk whisper of the wardglasses and struck into the earth soars a fir beyond the
But now the plain is grass, and patches of water. cherrygold that runs like water, said to be height of any other Forest elder. Black
honeypea and velvet vetch, and roaming Start no new flame. dug from the Triad's flanks; they sing the enough to swallow the light, ten broad-
flocks of oddtusks. It's clusters of stone and Surrender to the wolves of the Forest that lais that tell of All-Wing, The Mercyful framed travelers could not, encircle its
sod houses tucked in the lee of shattered which they ask of you. Wrath, and the divine words that rolled rough, amber-weeping trunk.
glass towers. That which dies in the Forest must remain. from that One's sleek throat to imbed
themselves into the centre of the plain. Inside that trunk flows power. Power, and
But at night, the Bloodbroken Table Follow the laws, and all will be well. Fail the death, and drunken esctasy of magic. In the
shimmers in the intersection of eight laws, and the Call will sound -- and every No one needs to speak of the coiling glyphs heart of the fir the most ancient of the dead
shattered ribbon roads. Ancient, scarred, its wing, paw and hoof will set against one with that brand each of the Triad. Any fool with lies, sleeping but lightly.
blood-red bulk defying all efforts to deface witchfire and fury to erase the dishonour eyes can see the marks -- brilliant ochre red
its glyphs; the monolith that is its capstone unless recompense is made. in daylight, glowing like dull embers at night The wolves of the Forest bring gifts to the
studded with shallow depressions, like bowls -- as if carved into the stone by an immense fir, its said, to make certain that sleep
for receiving libations from on high. All is not lost, mind you; Resmurren, of talon. remains unbroken; but what wonders could
And a shadowy maw, like a mirage, opens in badger pelt and knowing eyes, keeps a deep be raised again, with the knowledge locked
the earth beneath. and well-appointed Burrow for the new and Strange things happen when the Coils are in that withered, dreaming mind?
the lost. touched by living flesh.

the village's flocks that survive their raids. portal is a tear, a drop of blood, a kiss.
Come, and see -- try to spread their spark of wisdom to any of All that is needed to open the Tower's layers of facets and spars, and whisper.
earth-magics, those ground-eagles, and they deep and gleaming red, seen even though
themselves. They're cunning beasts of tangled roots … Heart's name; some point to the core of
workings in eternal glass. fete one and sign praises to the heavens undercellars that spread and branch like Heart. None say they know the root of the
Old secrets, and old beings, and strange folk of Tiburrach will fall over themselves to warm grain of the ivory floor; labyrinthine glittering palisades of the floating Glass
things conceal? feathery carcass the beast -- and the quiet glimmering pool of nectar welling from the moon’s jaws -- the dazzling towers and
or two, mind you -- or bring back the shelly armour of pearl and horn; a three, slowly orbiting at the centre of the
fields, these dense knots of forest and stranger Offer to drive off a marauding ground-eagle whispers; phantom swordsaints clad in But most striking of all drifts far above all
What may these pocket plains, these rolling pale-haired and pale of blood, who speak in
bladed sickle. Twin siblings of aeons lost, pale-eyed and or strip them away.
silver, or a few hours' work with ard or flint- the stories of what lies within its layers: Loss and the Tear Of Joy may grant such,
for the price of a few coins, a bit of spun This is the Alicorn Tower, and many are pair of pools any less curious -- the Tear Of
may open to a wayward body needing rest the world as if grown from ivory. magics waiting beneath surface. Nor are the
the commons for travelers, and many a barn -- slender, and spiralled, and looking for all ivory heads; and whispers of long-lost watery
always happy to find a space on the floor of reaches to the clouds within an hour's walk sport the look of fleshless faces upon their
There is no inn, but the Wandering Spirit is of the boneflowers, and a single spire within stony mussels; fish that sometimes
Now the ground is carpeted in the soft ivory depths -- may find cold pearls held tightly
village limits … shallows -- and avoid shadowy maws in the
dusk-like quality of the light within the behind. Those willing to brave beyond the sandy
of flocks of bird-antelope oddtusks, the the fields and rose-gold grasses are long left
and barns and dovecotes; the dappled coats it gathers strength and substance, until one smaller bodies within the tips of its horns.
golden cast of the plaster coating the houses grasses ... Except for one that turns milky as of a full-bellied crescent moon cradling two
2020 fanged moon games both. It's hard not to see why: the soft the glassy ribbons lying broken amongst the silvery-grey water, a placid lake in the shape
Vales Of Glass And Gold Twilight', so named by locals and travellers
Tiburrach: Tiburrach is the 'Village of
Tiburrach, towards the peaks of the Triad,
The Alicorn Tower: Wending away from
grass and scattered hazels, a great slash of
Greymere: In an expanse of golden-green