Greenmount - where the valleys roll like the backs of great slumbering beasts, and the mountains stand watch over all. It is a land of shifting moods; soft and golden in summer, bleak and brooding in the dead of winter. A knight could ride from the marsh to the peaks and think himself in three different countries before the day is done.

-- Sir Francis de Marr, knight

The Duchy of Greenmount lies at the heart of the realm, a place of convergence where roads cross and rivers wind their way from mountain springs to distant shores. It is a land of great variety - mountains that scrape the sky, foothills that roll in gentle undulations, dark forests that hum with unseen life, and farmlands that stretch as far as the eye can see.

The Land of Gods and Men

At the foot of the peaks, built of the very stone that surrounds it, lies Klad. A city of grey walls and sharp edges, it stands as both a fortress and a home. It is a city of traders and travelers, of smiths and scholars, of those who seek their fortunes and those who have already found them. The roads here are always busy - merchants bringing in wares from the west, messengers riding hard for Endon, adventurers seeking the hidden dwarven and elven halls rumored to be tucked away in the mountains.

But Greenmount is more than its great city. It is a land of many faces, where each town and village carries its own tale.

Llanybydder perches high in the mountains, where the wind howls like a living thing and the air is thin and clear. The people here are made of sterner stuff, shepherds and stonemasons who carve their homes from the very cliffs they stand upon. Helmrest sits on the edge of the Greenmarsh, where the morning mist clings to the reeds like ghosts reluctant to leave. Its people know the marsh’s moods, fishing its winding waters and cutting peat from its depths. Life here is quiet, but never dull.

Ardglass is a place unlike any other, built within the yawning mouth of a collapsed sinkhole. Stairways cling to the rock walls, bridges hang suspended in the gloom, and voices echo long after they’ve been spoken. To outsiders, it is eerie. To those who call it home, it is simply life.

Billingston lies within an ancient barrow, its homes and halls carved into the earth where once the dead were laid to rest. The air hums with old magic, and those who live here learn quickly to leave certain doors closed and certain stones undisturbed.

The Peaks and Their Secrets

The Greenmount Peaks are more than a backdrop - they are the heart of the land, ancient and unmoving. They are home to creatures long thought extinct, to ruins whose builders have been forgotten. The elves and dwarves have lived here for centuries, their histories interwoven with the mountain stone. And beneath the peaks, in dark places where the sun has never touched, there are whispers of things even older - vaults sealed before the kingdom was young, waiting for those bold (or foolish) enough to seek them out.

Beyond the mountains, the land shifts again. Northward, the Greenmarsh sprawls - a tangle of reeds and water, of hidden paths and creatures that watch from the mist. Hunters and foragers know the way, but even they tread carefully, for the marsh does not suffer fools.

To the west, the forests stretch deep, dark and ancient. The trees here are thick with moss, their roots twisted with time. Old paths lead to older places, where ruins stand forgotten and the past lingers in the air like morning fog.

To the east, the world opens. The land softens, the fields widen, and the great city of Endon stands in the distance, its towers gleaming against the sky. Civilization, some would call it. And yet, Greenmount holds its own kind of civilization - a land where nature and stone exist in an uneasy balance, where history is written in the hills and whispered in the trees.

A Land That Endures

Greenmount is a place that does not bend easily. The seasons shift, kings rise and fall, yet the mountains remain, unchanged and unyielding. The rivers still carve their paths, the forests still whisper, and the people - rugged, resolute, and forever tied to the land - endure.

For those who pass through, Greenmount is a land of contrasts, a place of beauty and danger, of warmth and wildness. But for those who live here, it is simply home. A land of stone and soil, of mist and memory, standing steadfast against the march of time.

Greenmount is a place where nature and civilization exist in a delicate balance. Its towns and villages thrive on farming, timber, and trade, supplying grain, livestock, and fine-crafted goods to the wider kingdom. Yet beneath its prosperity lies a landscape steeped in legend - giant-built henges, barrow mounds of long-dead kings, and hidden shrines to gods older than written history.

The people of Greenmount are proud and superstitious, clinging to traditions that date back centuries, wary of the strange occurrences that sometimes unsettle their otherwise peaceful lands.

The Callidan Woods

Deep within the Duchy of Greenmount lies the Callidan Woods, an ancient and untamed forest that holds the whispers of a forgotten age. At its heart stands the Callidan Henge, a circle of weathered stones erected by the giants of old, shrouded in legend and mystery. Many believe the henge to be a gateway into another time, where those who stray too close on mist-laden nights may find themselves glimpsing a world long past—or one yet to come.

The forest itself is dense, its towering oaks and evergreens forming a near-impenetrable canopy, and the air carries an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional distant sound of something unseen moving through the undergrowth. Hunters and travelers alike tread carefully, wary of the strange occurrences that have given the woods their ghostly reputation.

The Ard Copse

The Ard Copse is a vast and sprawling woodland surrounding the fertile lands of Ardglass, its borders lined with small villages that thrive off the rich soil and abundant game. Unlike the dark mysteries of Callidan Woods, the Ard Copse is a place of life and industry, where farmers till the land and woodcutters ply their trade under the watchful gaze of ancient trees.

The town of Ardglass, nestled at the forest’s edge, serves as a bustling hub for trade, its markets filled with produce, timber, and fine craftsmanship. Yet, despite its prosperity, the deeper reaches of the copse are largely unexplored, and villagers tell of hidden groves where the old gods are still worshipped, their altars maintained by unseen hands.

The Billingston Dales

Rolling and wind-swept, the Billingston Dales stretch across the landscape near the town of Billingston, their grassy hills concealing secrets older than the duchy itself. Scattered across the dales are ancient barrows, great earthen mounds raised by forgotten peoples to house the remains of long-dead kings and warriors.

Local legend speaks of spirits that stir beneath the hills, and on certain nights, strange lights can be seen flickering among the barrows. Scholars and treasure-seekers have long been drawn to these burial sites, hoping to uncover relics of the past, though few dare to disturb them, fearing the wrath of whatever might still linger within.