Region: ELKMIST MOUNTAINS (Tiles: H, I, O*)
ELKMIST MOUNTAINS (Tiles: H, I, O*) The spine of the region. Everything flows from here—rivers, weather, history, catastrophe. Lake Occlusion sits somewhere in these peaks, ammonia-laced and ancient, the source of the Grave Current and the reason nothing grows along its banks for miles. The western slopes catch maritime moisture and drop it as relentless rain on the Red River Forest. The eastern slopes shed what little moisture remains into the rain shadow, creating the arid lands beyond. This isn't geology—it's destiny. The mountains decide who gets water and who gets dust. Mammoths built something at Lake Occlusion 200,000 years ago. It exploded. The mirror lace organism became Memory Mother. The elves lost their ability to reproduce. The landscape still hasn't recovered. Colonial expeditions attempt the ascent every few years. Most turn back. The rest leave bones on the slopes. The altitude isn't the problem. The wind isn't the problem. The route through Whiteout Canyon—ammonia fog rising from white stone, burning lungs, bleaching bones—that's the problem. And the sun-crows that follow everyone who attempts it, waiting, patient, hungry. Mountain Folk exist but are rarely seen. They know paths. They don't share. What you need: Respirator. Ghost canoe. Or the good sense to stay at sea level.