CHAPTER 2
Perhaps now you have a deeper understanding of the upper Westmarshes.
Harpidiom, the moor of spikes, encroaches thorn-like as the wilder side of the belt, the uppermost band of the Westmarshes denominated as the belt-before-betrayers, aye, the one ruled by the roguely barons of Metamor and it's subordinate provinces. For it is the wilder side, the one with the more significant number of outernicals and outernical-bred peoples, cleaved, from north to south. Harpidiom then is the land that stretches east of Metamor to the inevitable crash with the deeper, more lawful lands of the Meriadon Mires; insofar, no sane attempt has been made to strike law at Harpidiom, for it is well know that no reason would be fitting enough for the reward. Simply, as you have come to know, that the barons would rather let the outernicals fester and brew there, than invite a full scale conflict upon the border. Ignorance perhaps, or indolence has driven the hearts of the barons for long since the age-old wars of Metamochy.
Roused now, the difference has been made clear. A religion of war, you notice, has struck the hearts of the farmers and outerbred men alike.
For now you travel the road to a small townlet, or crude village, that will harbor you. Krum-Stygiach, a name for a man, indeed, but it is the town meager that has deemed that man's honor it's foundation. 'Krum' indeed, was a small hero in the grand visions of history; Stygia, his home, was to be the unraveling of his vengeance. For you have come to know in your stead here, that this outernical-bred hero had in his hand, for a mere fleeting moment, the heart of Dragon.
Krum-Stygiach rests atop the head of the belt, where it touch the White-Road and the crude lands (that you have come to now know as the Plainages) north bordering the Gate (the resting place of that dread pharaoh). You have come through a small, snaking thinway tunnel that slashes through a large monumental rock; now you see, that Krum-Stygiach rests in the shadows of that rock. This entrance, and the entrance south towards deeper Harpidiom, are the only breaches of air, from what you see, in the crumpled rock. The town rests not in a mouth or open clearing, but in a way that the very same monument rock bows itself to cover every spring of light, you see then, that the town is almost like a castle hewn onto rock.
You plan to rest here one single day. Then you will leave south towards deeper Harpidiom and unto Metamor. The reason is clear, you must go south, for obviously something tracks your step. Deeper still, in Modoc, you hope to find solace; atleast if not amongst the lower innards of the capital.