Zamorandash Mountains

Snowcapped for half of the year, the Zamorandash Mountains rise from the eastern end of the Canyons of Pim and stretch as far north as the Broken Country. The tallest peak is Mount Hetch which is visible on a clear day as far west as the city of Kreeth and as far east as Waed.

The Zamorandash are home to the Goblins of the Hob, a small, remote country of Goblins who staunchly reject the modern, industrialized empires of their southern cousins. The Zamorandash are also home to ancient aviaries and the fanes of forgotten nobilities, as well as sparse clans of Bugbears who often clash over territory with their Goblin neighbors.

The name Zamorandash comes from a Goblin mispronunciation of Zamorand, which means ‘boulder strong’ in the language of the Bugbears whose numbers once blanketed the steeps and cliffs, herding mountain goats and farming a nutrient rich ivy that grows only sparsely today. But as it seems to be their fate, the Bugbears thinned their own herd in time, killing each other over petty disputes, while the Goblins of the Hob encroached.

Yorn’s Hold


The disappearance of Yorn’s Hold is ghost story. Strange. Unsettling. And bound to keep folk guesses for a hundred years.

The exact location of the once mighty sister-fortress to Castle Lake was completely lost. One might ask how massive amalgamation of stone and mortar can be lost, or how even the geography of a place can be so changed that no remnant of it exists. And perhaps the fairest question might be: What happened to Yorn and his people?

Yorn was an elderly member of the Grimley Wood Barony some years before Golo the Gargantuan and his terrible appetites brought the ogre to Castle Lake. Back then, Yorn was a wealthy wool merchant of lesser-noble stock, whose lands were gifted by the King himself after Yorn lead a victorious skirmish against a band of renegade, Felmog Knights who had been demanding unlawful taxes from the people of Yorn’s Hold. Despite the Counts of Kreeth and Maax denouncing the actions of their renegade warriors, Yorn’s Hold was besieged with little to no help from Castle Lake or any other.

After seven days of brutal attack, the last siege ladders were thrown from the walls and Yorn himself, feeble as he was, rode out and met the Felmog in mortal contest. Yorn fought bravely, dehorsing a young upstart named Karaban, a war captain famed her many crusades and also for her wealth and collection of rare things. Having lost her advantage, Karaban fled with her knights into the woods, cursing the name Yorn for her embarrassment.

To mark the victory, Yorn decreed a grand celebration to be hosted in his Hold and spent no small fortune from his years of wool profit. Invitations were received from as far away as Harp’s Edge and anticipation for the magnificent event became palpable. And that is where the mystery begins.

Upon arriving for the party, visitors suddenly found themselves lost on a familiar road. Landmarks well known seemed farther than before and familiar trees were no longer so familiar. Locals disappeared; their homes seeming to have vanished entirely, or perhaps it was that folk just forgot where everything was. Maps were suddenly wrong, as well cut and well known paths through the Starless Sedge or Nargyle’s Haunt no wound into mazes that lead nowhere.

Most perplexing of all was the utter disappearance of Yorn’s Hold. For those visiting from Castle Lake, intimately familiar with the trail, the keep no longer occupied its century old location. No stone could be found, no sign of any foundations were found. It was as if Yorn and his people had been transported to another place. Either that or everyone in Eem had forgotten their way and no modern map would show it.

In time the mystery became legend. Was Yorn’s Hold cursed? Was the whole world Cursed? None can say. But a peculiar ghost story surrounding the renegade, upstart knight called Karaban has for many years haunted the fireside musings of Grimly Wood. And from that ghost story an adage: Vex not a knight of Felmog should they have a witch’s pride.

Whisperdale Meadow

The Whisderdale is a pretty, but ordinary looking meadow of tall grass, wildflowers, butterflies, and songbirds. What makes the Whisperdale remarkable is that its flowers bloom year round and are seemingly immune to the winter’s frost, or the heat of the North Muckland dry season.

Believed to be enchanted, the story of Whisperdale begins as the site of an ancient battle. Long ago, a grand army of average folk fought and died for a just cause. What that cause was, or who those folk were is no longer common knowledge, but it is believed that the fallen men-at-arms still warm the earth with their acts of courage–which explains the oddity of perpetual spring.

In the most recent days of the Dungeon Era, Boggarts and Highwaymen avoid the meadow, for fear of vengeful spirits and folk magic.