Atgelaur

As with all Asgard, Atgelaur rides the great rivers of earth: continent-sized landmasses drifting in grand arches through the sky, their undersides glowing with ruddy fire that warms the void below. In Atgelaur, the topsides are carved into high passes, stair-canyons, and bridge-cols that knot the realm together like a mountaineer’s ropework. Winds sing constantly through pierced pillars and stone thrones; earthquakes and landslides are a pilgrim’s calculus rather than a surprise. Please note that there are special areas, such as:

The Wind-Roads

Flagged with white cairns and cut-marks only visible in crosswinds, these routes “appear” when the breeze is right and vanish when the weather turns.  

Whistle-Pillars

Stone spires bored with organ-holes. Their tones shift with weather and season, acting as a living map; locals can hear which passes are safe by the chord they sing.  

Cairn-Seats

Atgeldes’s signature shrines. stone thrones crowning ridgelines, ringed with pierced posts. Each holds caches of food, cloaks, coil-rope, and a ledger for waynotes.  

Notable Locations

The High Seat of the Windglider

Atgeldes’s moving court, an open bastion of hewn stone that slides from earthberg to earthberg on sled-runners of rune-ice. Oaths of safe conduct are sworn here; perjury is answered by a cutting gale.  

The Portico of First Footsteps

A crescent colonnade whose arches are true portals; each opens when a traveler places their first boot-print in the dust and speaks a new destination. Repeated words close the arch; discovery opens it.  

The Wayhouse Constellation

A ring of identical hostels placed a day’s march apart, kept stocked by rangers and petitioners. Their hearth-smoke drifts sideways, pointing toward the nearest safe pass.  

The Stone Opera

A ravine of whistle-pillars tuned to a master scale; “reading” the harmony sketches a route across three earthbergs and two moon-tides.  

The Gale Court

A cliff-sheltered amphitheater where guides arbitrate disputes, mark dangerous routes, and denounce hoarders of maps. Verdicts are recorded in wind-cut notches.  

The Lune-Door Landing

When the full moon rises over Asgard, a silver stair sometimes touches a bare promontory here, linking Atgelaur to the Gates of the Moon and, rarely, the Infinite Staircase.  

The Wind-Forged Irvin Span

A light bridge of sky-glass and oath-iron crossing the Irvin River toward Jotunheim. Its railing hums with the names of those who kept their word on the crossing.  

Travel

Travelers thrive by simple courtesies: announce your aim at a cairn-seat, leave a cache better than you found it, and cut waymarks others can read when the wind turns. The sensible kit is all rope and reach, crampons, coil-line, pitons, wind-hoods, mirrored signal-plates, and a ledger-token for updating route ledgers at wayhouses. Read the realm by ear and smoke: a low fifth from the whistle-pillars means passes are sound, a shrill second warns of rockfall, and hearth-smoke that drifts sideways points to a safe traverse between islands. Hazards are Ysgard’s own: quakes, landslides, and slow earthberg kisses, with Atgelaur’s signature shear-winds that can flip a rope team unless everyone leans together.   Toward Everwatch, beacon-roads hum with ward-tones, and guides salute the sentinel with a horn as they cross. On full moons the Lune-Door Landing manifests, tying the realm to tides, stars, and those rare steps of the Infinite Staircase in the Gates of the Moon. The way to Jotunheim is the Irvin Span, which is thin, trusted, and frequently tested, where wind courts post live warnings whenever giant raids begin to surge.  

Inhabitants

Atgelaur is tended by the Petitioners of the Path, fallen travelers, scouts, and explorers who chose motion over rest, who keep the wayhouses stocked, patrol the rope-bridges, and raise new cairns after each quake. Alongside them move the Windward Rangers, mortal and celestial alike, sworn to Atgeldes; they guide caravans, probe unstable routes, and publish fresh waynotes when the land shifts. Elemental adjuncts, zephyrs, dust-devils, and chatty air mephits, serve as couriers, while greater air elementals brace rope-spans during screaming bridge-storms. Allied envoys from Avandra, Akadi, and Lune, along with daring Seldarine rangers, enjoy guest rights at the wind-seats, trading charts and omen-songs. Unwelcome shadows: agents of Nyx and covetous map-hoarders, find their secrets unstitched by crosswinds; in Atgelaur, lies fray into an audible hiss.

Speech rides differently on these heights: truth on the breeze carries bearings: “north to cairn three, then west to the pass”, farther than any other words, while falsehood shreds into static. Drawing steel within a wayhouse or on a marked bridge summons a guest-right gale, a buffering wind that ruins aim and snuffs flames until tempers cool. And for those bold enough to try, musicians can play the pillars like a stone organ to open a short-hop gate along the Wind-Roads, though a wrong note drops you unceremoniously at the nearest cairn with nothing worse than a bruised pride.   Acts that further free movement, rescue travelers, or share safe routes often benefit from favorable omen-winds.