The Hearthfire Codex
Thalanor
To step into Thalanor is to enter a land where the wild keeps its own counsel. Vast forests dominate its heart, stretching from rolling lowlands to the shadowed flanks of a great mountain whose summit vanishes into the clouds. There, where the air grows thin and sharp, the slopes remain cloaked in snow even in the height of summer. The wind cuts like glass, and the peaks echo with the cry of eagles and the padding of creatures few have ever seen.
From the mountain’s feet flow rivers born of melting snow and hidden springs, spilling down into deep valleys where moss carpets the stones and ferns grow taller than a man’s chest. These waters feed marshlands and fertile plains, where reeds whisper under the wind and farmers tend their fields by the rhythm of the seasons. In the forests, sunlight falls through the green canopy in narrow, gold-laced beams, and the air holds the scent of pine and damp earth after rain.
Thalanor’s people are as varied as its terrain—woodland elves in their deep groves, human homesteads scattered along the rivers, wandering clans who follow the game trails. Many cling to the old ways, honoring a host of lesser gods tied to the wind, the trees, or the hunt. Yet beneath these beliefs lies a deeper truth known to only a few: there is but one Creator, the Lord over all hills and waters, who set the stags to their courses, the rivers to their paths, and the snows upon the mountain peaks.
It is within this land—wild, cold, and beautiful—that Elyod moves like a shadow through pine and frost, and Elreth tends the wounded in clearings hidden from all but the Creator’s eye. Though the people see them as wanderers and healers, their true calling runs deeper—threads of a story written by the same hand that shaped Thalanor itself.
— The soul is mine — the hands are digital.
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