“Out east, that one mountain over the treeline has a door on it. It has no keyhole, handle, nothing. But Kev stubbed his toe while near it, and, well, he’s not the most cultural, but Kev can swear in like 20 languages. Anyway, he’s swearing up a storm and when he said someaught in Dragon, it sounded like a bell rang. Nothing opened or nothing, but a rumor worth a drink, yeah?”

“Straight south, you run into a jungle. Strange terrain, there. Lots of these plateaus, Break above the canopy. Some look like you can climb, if going up a few hundred feet sounds fun for ya. Anyway, lots of these lizard guys. Big reptile creatures, can’t miss those, but also, there’s ones our size, carryin’ spears and speaking some weird tongue. Gallie thought she was good with languages, but not good enough, I guess. She never came back and there was a dwarven skull on a stick last time I went that way. I don’t go that way now.”

“Mountains west of here, they got one peak with a light halfway up — steady, not fire, not torch. You see it best when the moon’s low. Nobody knows who put it there. No path, no ladders, just sheer stone. But old Caulder swears he saw a figure silhouetted against it, just standin’ still. Might’ve been starin’ back. Course, he drinks, but that’s not the kind of thing you lie about. Not if you want to sleep again.”

“There’s a ravine out west, right below that peak with the light. Rocks down there ain’t right. One looks like a giant face, mouth open in a scream. But if you nick it — with a pick or a blade — red seeps out, thick and slow. Galdor says it’s iron-rich water. I say it’s a buried god, still bleedin’. Either way, the ravens circle above it like they’re waitin’ for somethin’ to die.”

“That cactus forest? It’s got a place deep inside where the ground gives way to roots and fog, even on a clear day. The trees are dead, and the fog don’t lift. Not natural mist — it clings to your face, gets in your mouth. Old Darrek wandered in and came back with his hair turned white and his boots melted off his feet. Wouldn’t talk. Just started diggin’ a hole and didn’t stop ‘til he dropped.”

“There’s a tree in the swamp — wide and pale, like it’s been stripped clean. It don’t have leaves, just ropes. No one tied ‘em. They just hang there, swingin’. Sometimes there’s things in ‘em. Things that weren’t there the night before. The croakers around that tree are real quiet. Real respectful. Even the bugs stay away.”

• Danger!!!
• Tree grabs you from around 45 ft away and dehydrates you to death.