Heatherhaven Moors

To the north of the Twinpeak River, nestled between the Dragon's Teeth Peeks and Stoneheart Mountain ranges, lies the vast and whispering realm of the Heatherhaven Moors. This is a land of high skies and silver grasses, where wind and silence weave together across an open, undisturbed landscape.   The moorlands stretch endlessly—rolling, uneven, and rugged, with great patches of heather that shift color with the seasons, from smoky lavender to frost-touched grey. Few trees take root here; instead, hardy shrubs, mosses, and wind-bent bushes mark the terrain. At dawn and dusk, the land gleams under low light, painted in soft tones and long shadows.   Wildlife here is elusive, perfectly adapted to the terrain. The Heather Hare, with its ash-brown coat, blends almost perfectly with the ground. The air is filled with the delicate, fluting song of the Moorland Melodist, a bird rarely seen but often heard. And prowling the high ridges, the Heatherwolf stalks alone or in small family groups—fierce, silent, and rarely glimpsed more than once.   While settlements are rare, the northwestern edge of the moors houses a scattering of small mining communities, tucked into hills where veins of silver and pale stone run just below the surface. These hardy enclaves live by necessity and instinct, their fires burning low and their buildings built close to the ground to endure the wind.   The moors are not harsh, but they demand respect. This is not a land for conquest or cultivation—it is a place to pass through carefully, or to dwell in only if you learn to listen to its rhythms. Here, the wind is a voice, and the heather bends only for those who do not try to break it.