Valanhold of the Fjords at Sinuous Summit
Poem
The mountain only exists because you do.
It will ask a lot,
but it will never ask for more
than what you hold.
Its purpose is not to crush you,
but to carve you from the stone,
tο pull your very essence from your bones.
It will call for a shift
in what you do not yet know.
Sometimes you move the mountain,
and sometimes it moves you.
- K. Tolnoe, an Elder Fjord Climber
Description
Of all the mountain holds I have visited, none are so inseparable from their mountain as the Crimson Fjords. Built directly into the face of Sanguinan Peak, the hold survives through equal parts masterful engineering and the crimson waters that give the mountain its infamous name. During the thaw, iron-rich sediment stains the melted water red as blood, sending mineral-rich streams cascading through the settlement. Ingenious stone channels divert these waters into reservoirs and grate-lined catchments, where both clean drinking water and valuable iron sediment are collected. The locals rightly refer to these waters as the hold’s lifeblood.
The architecture consists of massive buttresses, reinforced tunnels, and carved waterways that support structures that cling to the sheer mountainside. Watchtowers overlook the narrow mountain approaches, while smaller fortified outposts and signal beacons stand along the climbing routes, allowing scouts to warn the hold of monsters, avalanches, or hostile travelers long before they arrive. Few armies could ever hope to assault the settlement directly, as the surrounding cliffs and winding passes serve as formidable natural defenses.
The town is carved from the walls of the cliff itself, with a walled town sitting nestled atop layers of caverns running down the sheer rock alongside a central stronghold carved directly from the dark stone of the fjord. Below all of this sit docks protruding into the brine from which ships carry food into the hold and metalworks and ore out to the rest of the realm. The caverns are packed with domiciles and forges, the latter of which produce a foul smog which is carried off by the wind in the upper caverns and walled town. As such only the most skilled and wealthy metalworkers can afford to live up the cliff while the lesser skilled forgers and the miners are often found in the lower levels. The iron-rich flows of water travel between the caverns just as a series of pulleys and lifts do which transport goods and people between them.
The miners of the town make the perilous journey to and from the mines day by day. The mining outposts that riddle the landscape are connected by a web of pathways that caravans must follow, yet still run the risk of attack by dragon or giant. These caravans as such are heavily armed, not only to protect the miners, but also the cargo they bring back from a day’s work.
There’s a large dwarven influence in the town, with many of the customs and culture of the people being strongly associated with dwarves and their ways. This can also be seen in the number of dwarves in the area, which is far above the amount seen anywhere else in the realm.
The militia is composed primarily of seasoned hunters, miners, and climbers who know every ledge and hidden path. Their patrols range constantly between the hold, nearby mines, and defensive towers, ensuring that no dragon, giant, or other mountain beast descends unnoticed. The forge masters have become renowned for crafting exceptional bows, crossbows, and enormous ballistae designed specifically to bring down flying predators. I personally witnessed one such ballista that felled an Ice Wyvern with a single expertly placed bolt.
Mining remains the hold’s greatest industry. Rich veins of iron and other minerals lie both within the mountain and near its summit, tempting ambitious climbers to brave the unforgiving ascent. Competition between these mountaineers is surprisingly friendly despite the dangers, though I heard more than one distant scream echo of climbers falling to their doom across the cliffs during my stay. Their work extends beyond mining, as they clear snow and break ice to expose fresh deposits and maintain safe passage through the higher reaches. Rumors persist of untouched caverns containing gemstones, forgotten relics, or remnants of civilizations long lost beneath the ice, though no verified discoveries have yet reached my records.
Ore, worked metal, and finely crafted weapons leave the hold through trusted caravans, while food arrives mainly through trade, though there is additional hunting of mountain deer and wolves, or there are arduous expeditions to the valleys below for fruit and other provisions. Travel without a local guide borders on suicidal. Even the mountain’s dead have become landmarks, remembered not by name but by the garments they wore when they fell. I sent a message by hawk to the Crimson Fjords for a guide. She eventually arrived. Very kind and knowledgeable mountain folk. I am not particularly physically gifted, but I learned how to climb decently. The guide even provided me with food. Hopefully, I can make my way back to return my findings.
Written by Collector Matthias Rickard
Fiction writing
During winter, the cold is always a biting one. My eyes feel like they are freezing shut. Seeing the Titans far, far in the distance always gives me trepidation. The Dark One, is it returning? I am just a lowly guard trying to live while I ramble my thoughts in this journal. I can’t wait for the warmer seasons. It’s always great having fresh water, and business booms with the iron deposits. The peak frozen over with the hues and gradients of red color of the ice makes me feel like the mountain is a beating heart. I wouldn’t put it past this accursed world if that were the case. All I have is my torchlight to accompany me. I survive yet again
- Note from a Crimson Fjord tower guard
I fell while climbing. My leg is broken, and perhaps my arm and a few ribs. I never thought this would happen to me. People always think that. Terrible things happen to others, and at least they don’t happen to you. I’m sure I’m going to die. Too many resources to find me. “Sometimes you move the mountain, and sometimes it moves you,” is what that old fart used to say. He isn’t wrong. I slipped, and I certainly moved. The cold is going to get me before thirst and hunger do, hopefully. A line of pencil cuts down the page, like the hand that was writing was too weak to continue.
- Journal of a dead climber
Thankfully, the Crimson Fjords have enough water in our reservoirs, though fighting for food is common. I do enjoy seeing what the Monster Hunters bring back from the Fjords. They take their trophies to prove their worth, and then we pay for the rest of the food. Dragon breast will feed this place for a while. For giants, though… It feels weird just cutting up larger people. Though Giant fat does saponify well and make good tallow for the torches to burn. Most of the time, hunters do help with keeping the wolves off the main paths, and also, once in a while, go for the antlers of a prize buck
- Diary of a Food Provisioner