Sedirtop

The Sedirtop Highlands are a stretch of uneven ridges, cedar forests, and cold, fast-moving rivers. The land rises in jagged steps, broken by sheer cliffs and deep valleys where the wind moves in sudden bursts.   The terrain is rough, shaped by time and weather. The lower reaches hold pockets of pasture, but the interior is harsher—rock faces worn smooth by the wind, gullies that flood in heavy rain, and stretches of woodland where the cedars grow so thick the ground sees little sunlight. Some cliffs hold caves and burial sites, their entrances dark with soot from past fires. Others bear the remains of old fortifications, long since abandoned.   Springs and thin rivers cut through the valleys, carving narrow gorges through the stone. The Altarus River, the largest waterway, begins in a glacial lake high in the peaks before winding through the highlands. It runs cold year-round, moving fast enough to pull a man under if he missteps. The lakes are dark and still, their surfaces disturbed only by the wind or the occasional ripple of something beneath. Waterfalls crash against the cliffs, feeding deep, frigid pools where travelers stop to fill their skins before moving on.   "The highland waters are pure but treacherous. The Altarus runs faster than it seems, its surface smooth until the current seizes an unwary traveler. Locals drink from the tributaries but never linger at the crossings. The river takes what it will, and the mountain does not give it back." — Excerpt from "Natural Studies of the Western Reaches," Imperial Academy Press   North of the highlands, the land rises into frostbitten peaks where snowfall lingers even in the warmest months. The mountain villages keep to themselves, surviving on dried meat, cedarwood, and whatever trade makes its way up the winding paths. The highland trails run thin, marked with stacked cairns and charcoal blazes, the only signs of those who pass through.   Though Sedirtop sits inland, it remains within reach of the coast. Delmar’s Landing, a weather-beaten port, serves as the nearest hub for traders, smugglers, and fishmongers moving between the highlands and the sea. Those heading inland from the coast do so quickly, knowing the roads thin out the deeper they go.   "There is a saying in Delmar's Landing: 'The mountains do not want you.' A traveler who lingers too long in Sedirtop will begin to believe it." — Tadrin Falos, merchant-scribe, "On the Edge of the World"

Flora The Cedar of Lyrivane (Cedrus lyrivani) dominates the highlands, its deep roots anchoring it against the mountain winds. The wood is slow-growing, resinous, and resistant to rot, making it valuable for shipbuilding and construction. The oldest groves are marked with blazes and cairns, not for navigation, but as warnings.   Smaller trees and shrubs thrive in the valleys, where the soil holds more moisture. Wild pear and black hawthorn produce bitter fruit, eaten fresh or dried for winter stores. Mastic trees grow in scattered groves, their sap harvested to make resin. In the open highland meadows, patches of oregano, wild thyme, and milkvetch cling to the dry slopes, their roots binding the soil against erosion.   In colder months, foragers seek out frostberry shrubs (Berberis crataegina), their sharp thorns protecting clusters of sour red berries that remain through the first snow. The fruit is crushed into pastes, brewed into medicinal teas, or left on the branch for the birds.   "The highlanders say frostberry is for the sick and the starving. The sick, because it clears the lungs. The starving, because if you have to eat them raw, you know you're near the end of winter’s stores." — Rahil Vossar, "Frontier Plants and Their Uses"   Mosses and fungi thrive in the shaded forests. Cedar moss covers the damp ground, and rock truffles grow in pockets of deep soil, prized for their earthy, pungent flavor.   Fauna Sedirtop’s wildlife is sparse but resilient, its creatures built for cold winds and rocky ground.   Mountain goats cling to the cliffs, their hooves finding purchase on ledges too narrow for human feet. Red deer and wild boar roam the valleys, their migrations dictating the movements of both hunters and predators. Golden eagles nest in the cliffs, their keen eyes picking out hares and fish in the river below. Wolves and lynx stalk the tree line, keeping the herds in check. The highlanders claim not all wolves hunt on four legs. "The wolves of the ridges keep to their packs. The ones that walk alone? Best not to follow their tracks." — Sadaq Harin, highland trapper   The Altarus River runs strong year-round, its cold waters sheltering trout and barbel, their silver bodies flashing in the shallows. The river is a lifeline for bears, eagles, and highland fishermen, but in the spring thaw, the waters move fast enough to carry away anything that steps too close.

Spring As the snows recede, the valleys awaken. Wild herbs and low shrubs push through the thawing ground, their roots reaching into the softened soil. Frostberry bushes, stripped bare in winter, bloom again with clusters of sour red fruit.   Deer and wild boar birth their young, grazing along the riverbanks while the highland predators track their movements. Golden eagles return to their nesting sites in the cliffs, hunting hares and young fish stirred by the meltwater.   "The first green in Sedirtop belongs to the hungry. The wise let the land have its fill before they take their share." — From the teachings of the Old Path, recorded by Alinar Sefra   Summer The meadows grow thick with highland thyme, wild oregano, and bitter rue. Fruit trees along the valleys bear small, sour pears and black hawthorn berries, their branches heavy before the first winds of autumn.   Herbivores grow bold, feeding openly in the warm months. Wolves and lynx hunt them along the ridges, keeping their packs strong before the lean seasons ahead. The rivers swell with trout and barbel, their silver bodies flashing in the shallows before the autumn runs.   "A summer harvest means nothing if you do not plan for the winter." — Highland saying   Autumn The days grow short, the cedar forests darken, and the first frost creeps along the high ridges. Trees shed their needles, coating the forest floor in a thick, rust-colored mat. Frostberries sweeten with the cold, their bitterness fading as the last leaves fall.   Deer and boar fatten on the last of the forage, their coats thickening for the coming snow. Bears, having fed on fallen fruit, seek out their winter dens. Eagles move south, following the warmer winds toward the coast. The wolves stay, their eyes watching the first snow settle in the valleys.   "A highlander’s winter begins in autumn. If he isn’t ready by then, it’s already too late." — Highland proverb   Winter The ridges lock in ice. The river slows, its edges hardening into thick sheets. What isn’t stored is fought over.   Mountain goats descend to lower elevations, picking through the frozen brush. The predators follow them. Wolves hunt in packs, their breath rising in the cold air. Lynx move alone, their tracks vanishing into the drifts.   Bears sleep in their dens. The men who do not prepare do the same—but they do not wake.   "When the snow falls, the land takes its due. It does not matter whether it is beast or man." — From the journals of Darvin Tal, lost in the winter of his fourth year   Migration & Hibernation Golden eagles and some waterfowl migrate south for the winter, following the river valleys. Mountain goats move between elevations, grazing where the snow is thinnest. Bears hibernate in their dens, buried beneath the roots of cedar trees, stirring only when the warmth returns. "A sleeping bear is the easiest thing in the world to kill. The trouble is, it never sleeps alone." — Jaskor Fenn, highland trapper   Predation & Survival Wolves whelp in early summer, when prey is plentiful. Boar and deer birth in spring, ensuring their young have time to grow. The Altarus River floods in late spring, washing the old away before the new takes hold. "There is an old story in the highlands: If a man sees his reflection in the river at dusk, and the water is clear, he will live another year. If the current distorts his face, he will not." — Tales of the Frontier, collected by Sarim Vosk, Academy Folklorist