"Misshapen mountains from the Hatching."

People say the Maw runs south from the Hatching like a wound that never healed. Ridges twist unnaturally, peaks lean the wrong way, and bands of black glass cut through the stone. Compasses drift. Pack animals balk. There are some tentative passes, but few trust them. From a distance the range looks chewed. Up close the rock rings like pottery when you tap it.