Mt. Cantha

Mt. Cantha towers over the rocky expanse of Eastern Cantha, a dormant volcano whose shadow stretches across miles of grey quarry stone. The land around it feels carved rather than eroded - sharp terraces of granite, faulted ridges, and natural stone platforms shaped by ancient upheaval. Though silent for centuries, the mountain still dominates the horizon like a brooding sentinel, its dark slopes streaked with old lava channels now hardened into metallic-looking seams.   At the volcano’s base lie the ruins of an old town, a settlement swallowed by fire and ash during Mt. Cantha’s last great eruption hundreds of years ago. Crumbled foundations and half-buried stone arches remain as stark reminders of the disaster. Locals say the ground there warms beneath your feet, as if the mountain remembers.   The Eternal Empire's presence in Eastern Cantha is unmistakable - rail lines, mining stations, and armored outposts form a vast industrial network across the region. Yet even they keep a respectful distance from Mt. Cantha. The Empire has little interest in the summit or the caldera itself, choosing instead to tap the rich veins of valuable metals deposited deep underground by ancient lava tubes. These resources fuel both the Imperial war machine and the growing cities of the United Colonies, making the mountain a quiet but vital cornerstone of the region’s economy.   At night, faint red-orange glimmers can sometimes be seen flickering in distant cracks along the mountainside - heat from old magma chambers or, as some whisper, a sign that the volcano merely slumbers, waiting. Travelers approaching Mt. Cantha often describe a subtle vibration beneath the stone, like a heartbeat in the earth. Standing at its base, it’s easy to feel the weight of history… and the sense that one day, the mountain may stir again.