Highmist Range Tales

Content warning for horror, mentions of suicide, and other adult topics.

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The following text is extracted from a recording crystal, found in a pile of clothes within the Highmist Range, six hundred miles north of the Ferret Sisters Mountains, and eight hundred miles north of Murk Mountain. It begins with the hiker, whose name has been redacted in order to give their family privacy, calling out to someone. A dry, old, masculine voice calls out, and the hiker is invited to sit on a log by the fire. It is at that point that the following monologue happens: 

Though Elohi is widely considered to be one of the safest and most socially advanced nations on the entirety of Ddeaer, it is also one of the largest single nations. It spans more territory than the entirety of Mossford, Dragontooth, Thornfront, and Suntorch put together. It’s larger than Aergarde, and if you discount the semi-autonomous territory of Tianzhu, then it’s even larger than Greater Daocheng – though of course, if you include it, then the Storm King’s territory is larger. It’s larger than Kijani and it’s thousands of unified city-states, clans, federations, and more. 

And it truly is a good place to live. Few, if any, are forced to go hungry. Few are forced to live without a home, as some form of housing is available for most, if not all. Few are bankrupted by bills from medical work, as it’s subsidized through the government. 

But as with all things of such a vast scale, things fall through the cracks. Especially in those places that are far from more centralized living areas. The countryside is full of towns and villages, or of moving peoples who never settle in one place, and who instead follow ancient migratory patterns. By and large, these people have their customs well remembered. Many of these groups have oral memory stretching back to well before the unification of the continent. 

Even if not all members of the groups remember such things, they have their ways well laid out. They know the places where wild allay-hyacinth can be found. They know the areas where aura-bears like to hibernate. They even remember where the slaughter spirits used to be. 

People do fall through the cracks, of course. But among the wandering groups, it is not the most common of things.

In those towns, villages, and hamlets, they too have found their own ways. They know how to contact the peacekeepers quickly, and the people who live in the city too often rush to dismiss the strength of farmers when it comes to protecting their farms. They might need the peacekeepers to relocate things, but it is truly rare for one or many of them to come to harm or death. 

Of course, there are more abstract threats – abuse can be more covered up in areas with fewer people, and other things as well. But when the people have their needs met, and they can reach a mentalist through a communication mirror, it’s far from everyone. 

People do fall through the cracks, of course. But among the small villages, it is not the most common of things.

No, the most common issue arises in those areas, but it is not by those who live there. It is by those who don’t. 

Much of the land that makes up Elohi is semi-protected. People are allowed to hunt, to fish, to forage, so long as they do not overly damage the populations in the region. Some hiking trails often run through these areas, maintained by a specific subsect of the peacekeepers. Most of these areas allow camping for some time. 

And it is here, in these protected lands, that people are the most likely to go missing in all of Elohi. 

Out of every hundred who go missing each year, ninety one of them are found in some condition. Swift action, knowledge magic, and transportation spells allow for the swift combing of large areas. 

Of the remaining nine, seven of them are found, simply not alive. There are usually a handful of explanations that are simple enough – the person ignored the cordon and pushed into a warded area where a beast known to be dangerous to humans lived, the person had wound up angering an old spirit, and tragically commonly, the person took their own life. 

In one particularly egregious case of angering an old spirit, a man was walking through the land, hiking without a trail. Psychomantic records indicate he encountered the message he was nearing an area where a group that had come into conflict with Ama, and whom she had slaughtered every adult of fighting age – something she has notably expressed intense sorrow about. 

This man, however, seemed infected by the concept that might meant right. When he encountered the wards, and the mental message to go around or turn back, he simply punched through them. Then one of the ghosts manifested and demanded he leave, or else run through their small territory so as to not bother them for long. The man laughed at the ghost, and told them that if their clan was so weak as to be butchered by a third gate woman, they deserved their fate, and he did not fear them. 

That roused the angry ghosts, the man swiftly learned that – trained in the art of combat or not – he was not a match for an entire group of angry poltergeists. 

While losing a life that could have been led to see the error of his ways is tragic, it was very explainable. 

Of those remaining two, however, the remains are never found. Most of the time, there is still an explanation, but it is simply harder to accept – somehow, something slipped out of a cordon and took the body away. Someone ran away and does not want to be found. Someone intentionally lured them out there to kill them. In their panic at being lost, a spatial mage continued to cast Seven League Step until they were hundreds of miles away.

And out of all of these categories – found alive, found dead, and never found – once in a blue moon, there are cases that befuddle even the protected-lands peacekeepers, such as the Missing Time cases of Murk Mountain.

Though it’s extremely, extremely rare, each autumn on the day before the equinox, one or two people who go off the defined trails simply… Vanish. Even if they’re among friends or family. One instant they’re going for a freeform hike, and the next, someone is gone. Scrying spells cannot find them, and communication spells fail to reach them. 

And then, the next autumnal equinox, they reappear right where they had been. They are unaware that time has passed at all, and immediately start looking for people. The peacekeepers are aware of this, and on the equinox, have spells prepared. The person is usually confused by the fact they’ve lost a year and a day, and always claims that no time had passed at all. 

They don’t claim to have seen anything at all. All they know is that one second they were hiking, and the next they were alone. Scans of their body indicate that they haven’t even aged, and of the twelve cases of this throughout the three hundred years of documentation, all have returned safely. 

The most common explanation is that there is an ancient and powerful time elemental who lives in the area, and who has bound its dominion to the equinox. This explanation seems satisfactory, but no evidence of such an elemental exists. Even on the equinox, occultists who live nearby have set out to find it, and found nothing. The area is not especially potent with temporal mana sources or natural treasures, but nor is it so devoid of them that something seems off. 

Other explanations have been suggested – ancient stasis enchantments, a deliberate hoax, intervention of the Time Prince – but all of them are even less likely than the already unlikely explanation of an incredibly powerful but missing elemental. 

Though it certainly is deeply mysterious, Missing Time is largely harmless. Not all of the mysterious things are quite so cheerful, however, and what about the inexplicable instances around those seven who are found, but not alive?

Well, if you look a few hundred miles north of Murk Mountain, but still in the Highmist Range, you’ll find a lovely trio of mountains known as the Ferret Sisters. 

They’re called this for a reason. You see, there’s a story that long, long ago, in the ages before the Storm King was even born, and before the great working of the Monolinguistic Spell, there was an old witch who lived in those mountains, called by the name Mamtanakat, though her original name has been lost. 

According to which version of the legends you believe, she was either a human or a human-like spirit. She was at least an Occultist, though some say Magi. 

This old witch was vicious. She wandered all over Elohi, laying cruel curses on lands once fertile, stealing the food stores of those hunkered down for winter, and killing any who crossed her. 

The thing about the old witch was that she wasn’t content to just curse, steal, and kill. No, when she took someone, she would make careful use of them. She’d strip their hairs out and spin them into threads. She peeled their skin off and tanned it to make leather. She boiled down the fat into lard. She cooked the meat and consumed it with her stolen foods. 

The only thing she wouldn’t make use of, in her strange way, were the eyes and the bones. Each bone would be cracked, and its marrow would be sucked out, but nothing more. You always knew when Mamtanakat had killed someone, because you’d find them again as a neat pile of cracked open bones, with the eyes sitting on top.

Legends – as well as archeology – say that in those ancient days there were black footed ferrets who lived in the area, though of course in these days, there are none. Even the weasels are hard to find in the Highmist Range. 

But in those days, a breed of black footed ferrets was common, one whose closest modern relative would be the warp-war ferrets. The Ferret Sisters of legend were born in a litter of eight, as is common for the breed, and through a great stroke of fortune, they stumbled across the Spring of Mind and Heart – a place of its own myth and legend, but not for this cold night. They drank from it, one and all, and their minds awakened. 

With this blessing, their growth exploded. Within weeks they managed to advance, and they took on human forms, where the eight of them joined a nearby village of humans. The humans welcomed them with open arms, and the ferrets lived happily for a time. 

But unbeknownst to them, Mamtanakat was growing hungry, and on a cold winter night, she stole away five of the sisters, as well as eight other members of the village, to fill her soup pot. The three surviving sisters were filled with rage, and they began to gather up what power they could. 

It took them years, perhaps decades, but when the old witch returned to their mountains, the three sisters slew her. They chopped up her body into thirds, burying it deep beneath each one of the mountains, and one sister each lay down there to forever guard the witch’s rotting remains. 

Why bother with myth and legend? Because, to this day in the Ferret Sisters mountains, about once every decade or two, someone is found dead. The reason for their death always seems to be easy to explain – the most recent one was a twenty year old that fell off a cliff after a rather stupid dare with his friends. Another ignored wards and entered the area of an aura bear. Another ate a patch of random mushrooms after getting lost. 

But despite that, in the time between the moments after a body is found, and when the the peacekeeper’s remains retrieval squad arrives, the body changes. None have seen it happen directly, but it happens nonetheless. 

Sometimes, the hair is plucked out. Sometimes the body is skinned. Sometimes the meat is gone. And very, very rarely, if there is an especially long time between when the body is found and the retrieval squad arrives? There is nothing left but a pile of bones, all cracked open with their marrow sucked out, and two eyes…

Sometimes this can be excused with decay, or the work of wild animals. Perhaps that’s all there is. But the Spider himself has visited those woods in those mountains, and he is a powerful mage. He has spread out his Title, he has cast his divining magics. 

And he found nothing. There were dark spirits – including two angry ghosts that had been missed in initial surveys, and are now contained safely in Undermountain Four. But there was nothing to suggest that Mamtanakat lived on. No shade or ghost. No soul. Nothing at all. 

Perhaps it’s an especially quick serial killer acting out the old legends, but the cause of death is always explicable, and no other sets of footprints or psychometric records have been found.

And yet, a pile of bones, sucked dry, and a pair of eyeballs does happen. 

What of the third? Those who are never found, but for whom some reasoning can be devised? Well, if none were ever found, how should I know what dangers lurk in the forgotten corners of the world? 

Be careful, my friend… For the trees have eyes. And you ha–

It is at this point the recording crystal ends abruptly. When the hiker’s clothes and belongings were found, they were found neatly folded, with no signs of a struggle, nor any signs of a campfire within three miles.

It is unknown who or what the masculine voice is, let alone how he or they came into possession of such knowledge. Though The Spider’s visit to the Ferret Sisters is not secret, the location of the contained spirits is highly classified. Cross-referencing through divination spells reveals the voice does not match any member of the Peacekeepers.

Recommend immediate forwarding to The Spider, The Wandering Mountain, and The Countermage.