A
Hartsvale is far in the windswept north, a fertile
mountain valley where the Ice Spire Mountains abut
the High Ice. The Clear Whirl River, easily the clean-
est and coldest I have ever bathed in, flows south into
the valley out of the lands of the Endless Blizzard,
feeding the rich soil tucked between the northern and
southern arms of the Ice Spires. The river splits as it
runs through the hilly lands, eventually draining into
a series of lakes along the southern edge of the vale.
Two small woods also grow in the vale, one along its
northern edge, between the vale proper and the north-
ern Ice Spires, and another fed by the lakes on its
southern edge.
Originally the home of giant clans and ragtag barbar-
ian tribespeople related to the Uthgardt, Hartsvale was
conquered by the hero Hartkiller. He was a giant who
had ventured into the lands to the south and learned of
their ways. When he came to Hartsvale, he rallied the
human tribes, uniting them into a fighting force capa-
ble of defeating the giants who tyrannized them, and
they threw the giants down, claiming the vale between
the mountains for their descendants.
Giants aplenty still dwell in Hartsvale's mountains
and forested hills, but they've reached an accord with
the humans of the vale. So far as I know, they live
peaceably distant from the human lands, and taboos
exist among both humans and giants that keep them
separate. In my time in Hartsvale, I saw no giants, but
surely I saw their works. At the boundaries of lands
where humans (and other folk smaller than giants)
may not go stand titanic menhirs, likely erected by
stone giants.
The folk of Hartsvale are ruled by House Hartwick,
a line of royals supposedly descended from Hartkiller.
Though human, House Hartwick's scions are all very
tall and strong, most standing seven feet in height.
The king of Hartsvale sits on the Alabaster Throne in
Castle Hartwick, and the many earls of the vale's duch-
ies owe their fealty to him.
Peace has reigned for many years in Hartsvale.
Grauman, called the Good King by his people, sits
the Alabaster Throne, though his years are advanced.
His eldest son and heir, Taumarik, is a young ranger
who has recently returned from a three-year journey
CHAPTER 2 I THE SWORD COAST AND THE NORTH
to explore the North. He came back with a wife, the
sorceress Ylienna of Silverymoon, and has begun to
take on more of his father's onerous responsibilities.
There is some strife in the court, however, for the earls
don't seem to trust his "out-vale witch-bride" (a phrase
that infuriates Taumarik, but seems to gently amuse
Ylienna). For myself, I found the lady Ylienna a delight
on the one occasion when I was in her company.
The vale is well guarded, as all jewels should be-in
this case by the perils of the mountains and giant-
steads that surround it. Nonetheless, a certain strong
breed of merchant travels the narrow mountain passes
leading into Hartsvale. The dwarves of Citadel Adbar
jestingly refer to these people as "goats of coin," for
they will cling like such animals to the most precarious
of mountain ridges while seeking the opportunities
that wait beyond. My own journeys with the goats of
coin have impressed upon me the skill of these folk,
who brave crumbling paths, avalanche-ridden passes,
terrible howling blizzards, and monsters of all sorts to
reach Hartsvale and get safely out of the vale again.
It isn't merely the high mountains around the vale
that hold dangers. Though the valley has scattered
settlements, all of Hartsvale can hardly be considered
civilized. In my time traveling these lands (with one of
the few goats of coin that refused to be daunted by the
fens around Castle Hartwick), I've found these lands
to be still frontier-like, similar to some of the wilder
portions of the North, particularly in the days before
the founding of Luruar and the resettlement of Mithra!
Hall. Fell beasts aplenty make their lairs in out-of-the-
way places across the valley, and raiding bands of ogres
often come down out of the mountains.
CASTLE HARTWICK AND STAGWICK
Between two branches of the Clear Whirl River lies
a great island on which Hartkiller built his castle.
Stagwick, on the east bank of the river, is a small
community of folk who work as farmers, fishers, herd-
ers, and artisans. These folk do a brisk business, as
most outland merchants choose not to journey beyond
Stagwick and instead sell their wares to the Hartsvale
merchants. Perhaps a third of the merchants who jour-
ney to Hartsvale choose to undertake the trip out to
the fiefdoms of the earls, who pay more to encourage
this behavior.
THE OGRES
For reasons I can't fathom, Harstvale and its sur-
rounding mountain ranges host many tribes of
ogres-indeed, not mere family groups, but whole
tribes of them! Whereas elsewhere ogres seem to live
like bears, near Hartsvale they act more like ores.
Thankfully the brutes are still too stupid for such com-
plex tasks as working metal, but from what I heard
in my time in the vale their culture is surprisingly
sophisticated. Different tribes worship different gods,
Vaprak being the one I heard most about, and these
differences in religion apparently set the tribes against
each other. From what I heard, both the giants and the
people of Hartsvale hate the ogres, a fact for which I'm
sure many are grateful. If one or more giants decided