defending the family's wealth. The gods only know
what led .to the creation of such a creature or what
binds it to this place. The answers-if any there be- lie
within its lair.MISTY FOREST
West of the High Moor but heavily influenced by it, the
Misty Forest draws its name from the fog that rolls off
the heights of the moor to shroud its trees. Melandrach,
King of the Woods, rules here and holds the forest as
the exclusive domain of the elves. Though game animals
roam in plenty, the local humans know well that the
elves protect them and punish trespassers who poach
in the forest. Even barbarians know better than to hunt
here, as they don't wish to draw Melandrach's atten-
tion or ire.
Travelers who leave the inhabitants of the Misty
Forest alone, and who build their campfires small and
solely of fallen branches, are usually permitted to pass,
so long as the folk of the forest aren't in a foul mood or
stirred up against outsiders for some other reason.SECOMBER
Just off the High Moor, on the north bank of the
Delimbiyr near the Unicorn Run, is the small town of
Secomber, on the border between the North and the set-
tlements of the Western Heartlands. Built over the ruins
of Hastarl, capital of the ancient kingdom of Athalantar,
Secomber is a quiet place where fishers and farmers go
about their work, and local folk hire out to hunt or fish,
or guide travelers through the area. Skilled guides who
know the High Moor well, and can navigate its many
dangers and its local tribes, are common-or appear
to be, given how often their services are offered. Local
stonecutters, primarily from a small clan of dwarves,
excavate pink granite from the rock walls on northern
edge of the moor.
RHYMANTHIIN: HIDDEN CITY OF HOPE
Stories persist that Faer'tel'miir, an ancient city of
Miyeritar, was restored by High Magic sometime in the
last century-perhaps even before the Spellplague- up
on the High Moor. The restored city of dark, smooth
stone, called Rhymanthiin, or "The Hidden City of
Hope," appears on no maps, and is reputedly concealed
by magic or some other artifice. Supposedly only those
who are worthy, without malice in their hearts, may
reach it , while others (as the tales have it) "shall not find
their way there." Such tale-tellers must be few and far
between, as I know of no one who can rightly claim to
have seen it, but still the stories seem to have a life of
their own.NAJARA
Gone are the days when the tales of a kingdom of ser-
pents were rumor and hearsay, stories concocted by
adventurers and travelers who strayed far off the path
and somehow managed to escape. It was once easy
to doubt their veracity, for what nation didn't patrol its
borders or establish communication (amicable or other-
wise) with other nations? The stories of naga and yuan-ti
were easy enough to believe, for this area had always
hosted such things. But a nation of such creatures?
As we now know, the kingdom of Najara, as pro-
claimed by the serpents that live within, lies along the
northern edge of the Trade Way, northeast of Boareskyr
Bridge and southeast of the High Moor. The Winding
Water flows through these lands, and its other main geo-
graphical features are the Serpent Hills, the Marsh of
Chelimber, and the Forest ofWyrms.
I discovered for myself the truth of Najara, the King-
dom of Serpents, when a sage in Baldur's Gate hired me
to guide him, his apprentices, and a handful of adventur-
ers to some ruins in the eastern edges of the High Moor.
I will forever regret accepting that commission, for not
only did half the adventurers turn out to be greedy swine
inte nt on plundering the ruins rather than allowing the
sage his study, but their idiocy awoke an ancient spirit
that caused most of the group to drop off into a deathly
sleep while it consumed their souls. Since I am unaf-
fected by magics that force slumber, I escaped, along
with a half-elf among the apprentices to the sage. The
spirit chased us across the moors relentlessly, forcing
us into the tunnels beneath the Serpent Hills, where we
were taken prisoner by yuan-ti patrolling the borders of
their domain. The half-elf was hauled away in s laver's
chains, but for some reason I was taken to the court of
Jarant, the Serpent King. A brief account of that experi-
ence follows.
Ancient and evil, the spirit nagaJarant rules the king-
dom by virtue of his personal power and thanks to the
aid of the Marlspire of Najara, a thin silver crown that
has protective and other magical abilities. Though he
still preferred to remain utterly isolated from the outside
world at the time when I met him, ten years ago the
Dark Serpent began sending ambassadors to neighbor-
ing kingdoms to warn them about the consequences
of interfering in Najaran matters. Though I saw the
king for but a moment,Jarant's influence in his realm
is undeniable, for his name is spoken reverently by all