Further down the mountains are narrow canyons carved by immense glaciers, sharp ridges, fields of boulders, mountains of slate, granite precipices and many other wonders besides. Even further down one comes to the trees and streams and rivers and valleys and dales and low plateaus. All rough and tumble, shaken by the quakes that still rumble and groan at the top of the world. Madly, the landscape slips and falls to the plains below and only then does it release its grasp upon the world.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
The white capped burgs of northern Aenochia dominate the north. They are called the Roof of the World. They are the tallest mountains in the world. Some peaks are high enough that the clouds rest on their shoulders. The mountains are both beautiful and horrible. Sharp spired peaks, with white tips, cross the horizon like the spears of the armies of eldritch demons. They tower over and above one another in an endless fashion. At these heights on a clear day, one can see huge distances, to the plains in the south and the Frozen Salt Flats to the north. From there the peaks descend perilously to deep troughs and great upland plateaus covered knee deep in snow all year long. Furious weather whips at these heights, dumping snow and blasting chill winds that grind away at one's skin. Nothing lives here except the hardiest of beast and gods of old.