The Shivefrost Plain
Beyond Globurn, crystal winds scour the open ground and kitewolves hunt along the caravan roads. Steading families have survived here for generations, breeding woolbacks and sheltering beneath their homes. Now the Palemen hold the routes across the plain, while Sarnath’s army remains stalled at the crossing.
The Crystal Winds
Long before the Storm enclosed Tidefall, the Sond sailed an inland sea where the Shivefrost Plain now lies. The destruction that created the Screaming Wastes dried it out, and crystal dust has since packed the old seabed into hard, pale ground.
That dust still blows north from the Wastes, turning daylight blue-violet and dulling the horizon even in calm weather. When the wind rises, sheets of grit sweep across the ground, stinging eyes, filling mouths and scouring skin raw. Repeated exposure frays cloaks and wagon covers, while hair, fur and tack pick up a cold glitter that stays with travellers long after they leave the plain.
The winds grow harsher towards the Screaming Wastes, and at its worst Shivefrost can petrify flesh. With shelter scarce and ordinary clothing wearing through under the constant abrasion, a sperenweave cloak traded from the Bittun in the mountains is often a settler’s most valuable possession. Its resistance to the grit makes long journeys possible in country that steadily strips away other protection.
The Woolback Road
Caravans have crossed the plain for centuries, carried by hardy woolback horses and guided by families who know its winds. The road links Globurn to Fellmarch, passing scattered steadings and long stretches with little shelter. Guides, guards and highwaymen often come from the same communities, making their living from the traffic that must pass through.
Riders and wagons raise dust trails visible across the flats, where hoofbeats and voices carry far. At dusk, even a small campfire is easy to spot. In clear weather, there is little chance of passing unnoticed.
At Woolback Crossroads, routes turn north towards the Stoutspires and south towards Embermolt and the Screaming Wastes. The Palemen control the junction from nearby Shivenmolt Fort, leaving travellers to weigh the dangers of a watched road against the exposed ground beyond it.
Kitewolves
Kitewolves follow movement: a running horse, a passing wagon, a caravan thrown into panic. Tall-eared and long-legged, they cross loose grit on hard pads, keeping their footing where travellers struggle. Their shaggy manes crackle with static in strong Shivefrost winds, and their sharp, breathy barks carry across the flats.
Whether hunting alone or in small packs, they test guards before closing in, darting forward to bite and pulling away again to draw pursuers off the road into bad footing and blowing dust. Their stamina keeps them dangerous well beyond the first attack. They also raid the steadings for animals and take shelter in abandoned settlements.
Glassen Steading
The plain’s families built their homes low, banking stone walls against the southern winds and joining cellars with underground passages. When Shivefrost blows hard, people can move between houses and stables without setting foot outside. Woolback breeding, caravan work and generations of local knowledge have kept these small communities alive.
Few families became as famous as the Glassens, remembered in popular songs for their hard lives and defiance of Sarnath. As horse breeders, guides and bandits, they earned merchants’ protection payments and taught soldiers to fear their riders. A Glassen traditionally shoes the first woolback they break with a silver horseshoe engraved with their own name, marking a bond at the heart of the family’s way of life.
Most of the family have now joined the Palemen at Shivenmolt. Their old steading stands abandoned, its paddocks broken and its empty houses still connected beneath the ground.
Shardwind Lighthouse
Far from the travelled roads, Shardwind Lighthouse rises a hundred metres above the southeastern coast, its pale stone untouched by the crystal winds. There is no chip or weathered edge, nor any visible doorway, stair or way to reach the light burning high in its crown.
The tower predates the human forts and steadings and bears little resemblance to either. Its blue light deepens to violet across the plain, remaining visible through heavy dust even where the coast itself disappears into the haze.