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Boreal Woodland

The Western Edge of the North

To the far northwest of Elysoria, where the land begins to rise and the air turns sharper, lies the Boreal Woodland—a broad stretch of hardy forest bordered by the glacial winds of the northern coast and the cold stone ramparts of the Sapphire Summits to the east. It is a place of shifting seasons, long silences, and ancient resilience.   The Boreal Woodland is a deep and dense forest, much like its southern counterparts—except in the southwestern reaches, where the trees thin into rugged hills and scattered brush. To the east, the forest climbs the feet of the Sapphire Summits, its trees thinning into stunted brush and hardy alpine scrub.   Few permanent settlements exist within the woodland proper. The people who make their lives here tend to favor the edges—along rivers, lakes, and natural game trails. Their homes are practical, built from local timber and raised against the snow, with stone hearths and tightly shuttered windows.   Hunting and trapping are a way of life. The region is known for its rich animal population, including the Bristlepine Fox, Shadowtail Ferret, and the formidable Frostbark Elk. These creatures provide food, furs, and trade goods, and their presence is respected—sometimes feared. The deep woods are also home to the Forestshade Bear, a solitary predator whose strength and intelligence have made it the subject of many fireside tales.   Legends speak of rare albino creatures—white-furred stags, pale owls, and silver-eyed wolves—appearing only once in a hunter’s lifetime, often interpreted as omens. Whether they are real or not, no one who claims to see one ever attempts the kill.   Despite the cold and the hardship, the Boreal Woodland inspires fierce loyalty in those who live within its reach. It is a land of harsh balance, where man and nature are neither conqueror nor prey, but something in between: wary companions who share the same wild breath of winter.
“Don’t chase a wounded elk too deep. The forest won’t stop you—but it might not give you back.”
— Garrik Thorne, elder
The Bear at the Riverbend
Jeral made camp near the south fork of the Stonemarch river, meat still on the spit. He woke to silence. The fire had burned down, the meat untouched. Beside the ashes were paw prints—huge, and perfectly dry despite the wet soil.
  He moved camp two miles that night.
They say the Forestshade Bear doesn’t need to growl to be heard.


Cover image: by This image was created with the assistance of DALL·E 2

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