Bandu Hills
The Bandu Hills slumber to the southeast, silent and sullen. These dreary slopes serve as desolate tombshomes for the restless undead. Bleak stone ruins, bleached bone-white by centuries beneath the pitiless sun, clutter the barren land. Gray clouds sink low into the narrow valleys, cloaking the treacherous paths with dense fog, heavy with the promise of cold, soul-soaking rain. What was once a delicate sign of spring beats upon travelers in freezing, impregnable sheets of slate gray that set the mud of the Bandu Hills churning, grasping hungrily at a traveler’s every step. Despite the constant rain, the hills and vales bear only stone, packed soil, and the occasional empty cairn.
It has been whispered around many a sputtering bonfire that the sparse, spiky grass and skeletons of petrified trees harbor hungry spirits, eager to steal the breath from unsuspecting travelers. Those who find themselves trekking the neglected trails of those hills soon realize that the shallow valleys have led them astray with far more ease than expected.
It is where Mount Nakyuk and its cousins rise, like the bony fingers of a nameless, ancient god, that the erosion of the Bandu Hills remains at its most prominent—pock-marked with the forgotten mining camps and hunters’ trails that once fed into the great throat of the earth. Deep underground sprout the fruit of the Bandu Hills: veins of precious gold, deposits of minerals, and sprigs of precious stones that spread open like shimmering blossoms in the hands of foreign explorers and natives alike.
Wild game is difficult, at best, to find in the Bandu Hills. Travelers will find some luck with the edible bark and desiccated roots that pepper the landscape, but, like most of the Bandu Hills, these meals are scarce and unsatisfying.
It has been whispered around many a sputtering bonfire that the sparse, spiky grass and skeletons of petrified trees harbor hungry spirits, eager to steal the breath from unsuspecting travelers. Those who find themselves trekking the neglected trails of those hills soon realize that the shallow valleys have led them astray with far more ease than expected.
It is where Mount Nakyuk and its cousins rise, like the bony fingers of a nameless, ancient god, that the erosion of the Bandu Hills remains at its most prominent—pock-marked with the forgotten mining camps and hunters’ trails that once fed into the great throat of the earth. Deep underground sprout the fruit of the Bandu Hills: veins of precious gold, deposits of minerals, and sprigs of precious stones that spread open like shimmering blossoms in the hands of foreign explorers and natives alike.
Wild game is difficult, at best, to find in the Bandu Hills. Travelers will find some luck with the edible bark and desiccated roots that pepper the landscape, but, like most of the Bandu Hills, these meals are scarce and unsatisfying.
Type
Rolling Hills
Location under
Comments