Far, far above the settlements and bustle of Irrum Vath's underground civilization lays a wasteland. It lies not quite near the peak, but certainly far from the base of the mountain— and it is known by one name: "The Anchors". Lymantrian airships are wont to drift in the turbulent air of the distant heights, and so the mountain is a rather natural anchoring point for these technological marvels. There are many dangers in the Anchors, but many can be avoided with foreknowledge. The biting cold, the razor-sharp rock shards, the oppressive stench of death and decay... All these things can be known ahead of time, and prepared for. But none can prepare for the Anchors themselves. A Lymantrian airship may fire several anchors towards the mountain at a time, trusting not in the aim, but in the value of numbers in order to secure a firm grip upon the rocky crags. The noise is unbearable, like an ancient cannon impacting outside ones home it unsettles the nerves and shakes even the strongest confidence. To be struck by an incoming anchor is to stop being biology and start being physics. Few monsters inhabit these upper mountain reaches. Some wander down from the peak, scavenging for corpses. Any that do remain in this wasteland are possessed of either incredible agility to avoid the pylons of steel and magic that bore from the heavens into the mountain, or miraculous sturdiness that could shrug off even the fist of a rampaging god. It is not only monsters that rarely travel these cliffs, but travelers looking for bounty and treasure. Those who escape from Lymantrian society might believe themselves clever for using the moorings of the airships to disembark upon the mountain, laden with goods and stolen technology, but few and far between survive the trip. Their bodies litter the slopes, and strange goods and treasures can be found scattered amongst the graveyard.
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