IceAndWave/MaramasFell

Marama’s Fell

A vast shadowland that reaches almost a thousand miles across the northern coast of the Inland Sea and over 700 miles inland at its deepest, Marama’s Fell is considered desolate even by the denizens of the Underworld. During the all too brief summer the grass is weak and yellow, the light of the sun barely able to reach through the ever-present cloud cover to reach the ground. Winter is the longest season in the Fell, and during this time the snow that falls is bitterly cold and mixed with a gritty ash that works its way into every nook and crevice. Hungry ghosts swarm here during the night, their howls carried for miles by the wind, hunting and stalking the unlucky few, living or Dead, who are out in the open at this time.

No Deathlord has claimed Marama’s Fell, even though it is within easy reach of the Bishop of the Chalcedony Thurible for one. None of the kingdoms of the Dead assert sovereignty over it, either – the Fell remains unwanted by all, a blasted empty wasteland. It has one feature that makes it noteworthy however, the fact that the journey from Tideholme to Whitewall and thence Gethamane is far shorter when the traveller takes the direct route, but the hazards of the Fell mean that many die in the attempt, joining the masses of hungry ghosts and walking dead. There are tales of ghostly ice-runners patrolling the Fell in the depths of winter – crewed by zombies and war ghosts and worse, hunting down those with the temerity to brave their land.

Sentinel

Clearly visible from the walls of the fortress-city of Bulwark, the ruined city of Sentinel stands testament to the destructive power of the Dead, when unleashed en masse. Four hundred years ago Sentinel was a city of learning and knowledge, named for the gargantuan marble statue that towered over the city from the Plaza of Oratory. Close to the edge of Marama’s Fell attacks by the walking dead were not uncommon, but the ferocity and effectiveness of the last wave of attacks took Sentinel’s defenders completely by surprise, and after five nights of bloody battle the walls were breached and the hungry ghosts and nemessaries flooded into the city. The orgy of slaughter that followed laid waste to a city of 80,000 souls, and as the day dawned not a single living thing remained inside the walls of what had once been the city of Sentinel.

The libraries filled with ancient tomes and scrolls were covered with blood, and those killed in the attack rose up to join the army that had slain them, adding to the already vast horde. Most of the books and parchments, artefacts and trinkets, art and treasure, have all been looted from the ruined city – its proximity to the edge of the now-expanded Shadowland and the construction of Bulwark less than a decade after the fall of Sentinel meant that expeditions into it the dead city’s bones were commonplace. There is less to retrieve now than there was, and so there are fewer forays into the ruins, and many of those who do take the risk do not return, becoming turned around in the tunnels and passages of the ancient city.

On some nights, when the air is clear, a light can be seen shining from above the city – the jewel inset on the brow of the statue gleams and glitters in the night with a pale green luminescence that almost seems to beckon to the viewer. The few savants who have studied the history of Sentinel puzzle at this, for the statue’s crown held a giant ruby.

Ashok-Tar

Once one of the finest cities in the North, Ashok-Tar has been a home to none but the Dead for as long as any can remember. During the day bone-white towers stretch upwards into an uncaring sky, and a chill wind blows through its empty streets and boulevards. At night the city, for want of a better word, comes alive, as the thousands of ghosts that form its population fade into being. During the long nights this far north Ashok-Tar is a true city, with lover’s quarrels and passionate embraces, crime and punishment, but through it all there is a sense of fear and desperation as, at any moment, the armies of hungry ghosts can attack, rending corpus and eating Essence as the rampage through the streets.

A powerful ghost known only as the Iron King reigns in Ashok-Tar, a mask of black iron and white jade wrapped firmly around his head and riveted shut, and his hollow voice is known and welcomed by the citizens, for his is the voice of stability. At his command, the walls of the city will sprout lethal thorns and razor-edged shards of obsidian will sprout from the ground to augment the defence, but he cannot be everywhere at once, and occasionally an assault by the inhabitants’ animalistic kin will breach the walls and there the hungry ghosts will rip and tear at their hun cousins until driven back by the soldiers and their jade effigies.

Locations of Note

Edróil’s Stand

One a hill somewhere in the eastern reaches of the Fell there is a small wood comprised of black trees that sprout at unnatural angles from the chill ground. They glitter darkly in the sparse light of the Underworld and beneath its strange and distant stars eerie music can be heard playing from somewhere within. None know the source of this melody, since the woods of Edróil’s Stand are comprised of obsidian, and the ground is covered with razor-edged shards of the black material, which continually fall from the branches at the slightest breeze, and can shred an interloper within seconds of his entry into the forest.

The Giant’s Road

The road from Whitewall and down the coast towards Tideholme is a thing of power, cutting even down into the Underworld and forming an impervious barrier and making those who would cross it travel many hundreds of miles out of their way. But that road was not the first one, and the so-called Giant’s Road is the largest remnant of that older highway. Twenty miles of road, straight and true, paved with impervious stone blocks and lined on either side with hundreds of intricately and precisely carved statues in a rare red-veined marble. No two of these figures are alike, sculpted with such precision as to appear as nothing more than the people they represent, frozen in time.

The Lake of Glass

In the frozen heart of Marama’s Fell lies an expanse that even the Dead shy away from. At first glance it appears to be nothing more than a lake, but the practiced observer will soon note that the water does not move under even the strongest gales and blizzards, and those who brave its surface will soon find that it is as solid and smooth as Chiaroscuro glass. Those who have travelled over it have reported seeing things in its murky depths, ruined buildings and rapidly moving shapes on the edge of vision – others who have completed the same journey laugh those tales off as the ice-wine talking.

The Valley of Dancing Flame

There is a tale among the fire elementals of the North of a place where some of their kind are called when their time to die is near. Those few who hear this call journey to a valley hidden within a vast shadowland, ringed by jagged peaks and from which a flickering green glow can be seen. They enter this gorge and find the floor aflame with a green fire that burns without heat and then they take some of this unnatural substance into themselves. At that moment the elemental dies and a new creature, formed of pyreflame is born, there to dance and twirl endlessly, in a twisted mockery of the passion of their former lives.

Comments

Moxiane, do you have a map of the North with the locations from IceAndWave marked on it? I'm compiling a map of Creation that includes many Wiki locations and would like to add yours. -- JesseLowe