Halloween in Ironbound

Overview

The Scar forms the entire southern border of the Heartlands, a broken wasteland of black ridges, chasms and obscuring smog through which the sun scarcely shines. Almost no one travels there. Those few who have crossed its threshold speak of a land where daylight weakens, sound dies strangely and the air itself feels wrong. The oldest whispers say the land was not always like this, and that something ancient ended there so completely the world never truly healed.

Known for

• The full southern border of the Heartlands
• Jagged black escarpments and smoke-choked light
• Roads, watch posts and waymarks long since abandoned
• Vanished travellers, distant lights and deep unease

Nearest settlement: Hollowmere

Hollowmere is the nearest town to the Scar, and that alone is enough to keep most travellers away. Its people are insular, wary and only barely civil to outsiders. Whispers cling to the town: strange rites behind shuttered doors, children born twisted or frail, family lines marked by defects and households that never seem to leave. Few visitors linger there longer than necessity demands.

What folk say

They say the sun loses heart beyond the southern ridge. They say bells ring where no tower stands, and lights burn where no camp could survive the night. The oldest tales never explain why. They only warn that some places remember old ruin too well.

High places

Along the highest, most inaccessible crags of Mystmyre stand the ancient houses. Great mansions of dark stone, their spires rising above the mist, lit by strange lights that burn long into the night. Few have seen them up close, and fewer still have returned to speak of it.

Old families

The families of the Ridge are said to be older than the kingdoms of the Heartlands. They keep to themselves, their lineage unbroken, their lands fiercely guarded. Their halls are places of wealth, beauty and terrible secrets, and the people below dare not speak their true names.

Their servants

From time to time, their servants descend to the nearby towns to purchase supplies. They speak little, show little emotion and have a pale, almost lifeless look to them. They seek out odd and obscure items, and pay well for them, asking no questions and lingering no longer than necessary.

Rumours

• Strange lights move between the spires at night.
• The families never seem to age.
• Those who serve the houses are never the same again.
• Some say the windows of their halls are never empty.

A road the sea claims

Carved into the cliffs of the Sapphire Seas, the Drowned Road is a narrow coastal route that is passable at the right time, but disappears beneath the waves when tides rise or storms sweep in.

The lights

During foul weather, lanterns are sometimes seen moving along the road at night, even when no living traveller could possibly walk there. They appear through the mist and rain, far below the cliffs, and are often seen where the road no longer exists.

Many lost

Travellers, traders and search parties have all perished on the Drowned Road. Some are swept away by sudden tides. Others become trapped between the sea and the cliffs. Even experienced locals can be caught out when the weather turns.

Memorials

Stone cairns, weather-beaten posts and rusted lantern hooks line the safer sections of the route. Some bear names. Most do not. Travellers often leave tokens before making the journey, so that the sea does not forget those who came before.

What folk say

• The lights belong to drowned travellers still seeking the next village.
• They are the lanterns of long-lost search parties, forever looking for the missing.
• Some say the lights move against the wind.
• A few believe the lights are not lost at all, but lead the living toward the sea.

Strange structures

Across the Emberlands stand isolated wells of pale limestone. Some lie beside old caravan routes, others far from any settlement. Their masonry is of an unknown origin and unlike any known Asharni construction. None are claimed by any civilisation.

Beneath the sand

Unlike a simple water well, the Dry Wells descend by stone stairs into vast underground chambers. The upper levels are often empty, but deeper passages hold unexplained rooms, ancient debris and mechanisms that still function after countless years.

Three ways to die

The Dry Wells are perilous for many reasons. Creatures such as giant scorpions and snakes lurk in the upper chambers. Ancient traps and mechanisms guard the lower depths. And those who went before still remain below, their fate a warning to others.

What folk say

• No two Dry Wells have been fully mapped.
• Objects taken from the wells bring misfortune.
• Animals become agitated near some wells.
• Cold air can rise from the depths, even in the height of summer.
• Strange sounds are sometimes heard far below the surface.
• Some say the deepest passages do not belong to the Emberlands at all.

Old families

Hollowmere stands closer to the Scar than any other settlement in the Heartlands. Its people are known for old bloodlines, shuttered homes and a deep suspicion of strangers. Families endure here for generations, and locals speak of ancestry with a pride that outsiders often find unsettling.

Local customs

Travellers speak of odd rites, closed-door gatherings and customs no one in nearby towns can fully explain. Hollowmere’s people do not consider themselves cursed or peculiar. They regard such talk as the ignorance of those who have never learned what it means to endure on the southern edge of the world.

Whispers from the road

Stories persist of unusual births, recurring defects within the oldest households and family lines that never seem to leave. Curtains stir when strangers pass. Conversations stop when outsiders enter a room. Visitors are tolerated, but rarely welcomed.

What folk say

Some claim Hollowmere keeps older beliefs than the rest of the Heartlands. Others say the town has simply lived too long in the shadow of the Scar. Whatever the truth, few pass through Hollowmere without feeling watched. Fewer still choose to stay the night.

Older than Stone’s Reach

The stones predate the settlement, and perhaps even the peoples of the Heartlands. No one knows who raised them, or why they stand here.

The count

Different travellers report different numbers of stones. Some swear there are seven. Others insist on nine, or eleven. Old maps do not agree, and locals no longer bother to argue over it.

Inside the circle

Strange things are said to happen within the stones. Compasses become unreliable. Shadows fall in the wrong direction. Some hear voices when no one else is there, and travellers have lost hours, only to emerge believing minutes have passed.

What folk say

Locals tell of glimpsing places they have never visited, and of paths that do not lead where they should. Birds circle the stones rather than flying above them, and dogs refuse to cross the centre.