"The Far Lands of the Echoes, And What I Found There"

This hefty, leatherbound tome contains information on many locations from about the Echoes, penned by the famous drifter Larrikin Longstrider.

BACK BLURB
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>"To whom it may concern:

>"This book is my life's work! Years and years of wandering this lost dimension, the Echoes, has led to me chronicling my journeys. Within the pages of this book you will find everything you may need to survive in this strange land, detailing many, but by no means all, of the strange and wonderful lands I have seen. Wherever you may go, I, Larrikin, will have some words of wisdom to share with you. I have no doubts that my experience will be a shining star for all my fellow drifters as they wander their new home.

>"I hope my musings serve you well!

>"-Larrikin II, Longstrider, Dragonfriend, Wraith-Speaker, Lone Cartographer of the Echoes"

THE WEEPING CITY
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The left hand page has an overview of the place, while the opposite page has an elaborate, skilfuly drawn and colored depiction of the City itself, a truly vast expanse of elegant white and black stone structures. The main entrance appears to be a yawning marble tunnel. The drawing depcits the city on a rainy day.

>"To call the Weeping City a wonder would be a gross underestimation. No words can truly capture the hypnotic allure of this mysterious and ancient metropolis, with its towering marble pillars and striated obsidian patterns, given its namesake by the eternal rain that pours from the heavens onto this marvel of the Echoes. Rest assured, dear Reader, if you ever lay eyes on it yourself, you may think it to be all a mere good dream.

>"Yet the City is all too real, as are the dangers within. It seems as if the City itself is alive, constantly shifting and changing its layout almost as of some malign will. Drifters who enter it are seldom seen again; if they are not lost to fatigue and starvation from their long wandering, the terrible vengeful phantoms that prowl the City will shred them to ribbons.

>"If, dear Reader, your travels take you to this place, heed my advice and enter not the City itself. A prudent drifter would instead remain in the Haventunnel, the one main entrance to this domain. Exceedingly long and spacious enough to fit a small village, the Haventunnel is a popular gathering spot for like minded drifters. You will be protected from the rain here, it will not move to vex you like the rest of the city, and even the phantoms are repelled by it, by forces unknown.

>"As I have mentioned, the Weeping City was named so due to the unique property it has: it, and the lands surrounding it, are subject to neverending inclement weather, shrouding this region of the Echoes in eternal rain. If your travels should take you to this land, do yourself a favor, dear Reader, and prepare for the cold and wet. Fire will do you no good here. My mind boggles at the small sprinkling of communes and hamlets that have sprung up around the City. How they can stand the rain is something that will vex me to the end of my days.

>"One last note on this eldritch place: While my description may have dissuaded you from approaching the Weeping City (save perhaps from a distance), it is not outright impossible to gain aught from exploring it. Whispers have reached me of the once famed house of Ostvengr having ruled over this city, and their mysteries and treasures are sealed away within the ever shifting walls…"

THE LANDS OF ALWAYS WINTER
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The artwork on this page is almost spine chilling in how bleak it is, depicting a stark landscape of whites and blues, all snow, rock and frozen ice. You can almost feel the bitter, knife-sharp wind howling from this image. It takes you a while to notice, but there's a tiny pony-shaped figure standing in the snow, giving the piece an even greater sense of scale. The entry appears shorter than others:

>"Not since the Blasted Heath have I encountered a land as bleak as the ones of the far, far south of the Echoes. These lands, which I will henceforth refer to as the Lands of Always Winter, are a cruel, endless, unforgiving expanse of death and dark. Neither animal nor plant can grow here, the only true enemy being the weather itself, which will easily break even the most hardened of drifters. Listen well, dear Reader. There is nothing for anyone here. Do not throw your life away in pursuit of the unknown. Turn back."

That's all that's written for the main entry, but there's a second body of text that seems to have been added some time later:

>"Since writing this entry, I have contacted my close friend and ally, the wise and mighty Archdragon Erath, who agreed to assist me in charting the cold waste. He returned today after what he claimed to have been 40 days of nonstop flight at full force, which for an Archdragon, is an impressive feat. He found nothing but more ice and snow, with seemingly no end to the landmass at all. I repeat to you, dear Reader, there's nothing worth dying for in those accursed lands. Do not waste your time going there."

THE BLASTED HEATH
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The Blasted Heath seems equally as bleak, a vast flat plain of cracked grey dirt with twisted, unnatural looking skeletons of plants rising from it. They are all bent towards a huge crater in the distance, though what is within you cannot tell.

>"Of all the vile places I have visited in the Echoes, none are more vile than the Blasted Heath. Whatever created the crater you can see put a curse most foul on this land, turning it grey and barren. Nothing grows in these corrupted lands anymore, and the air itself is thick with an ineffable stench.

>"The fauna, too, have fallen victim to the curse, being uncontrollably violent. Those foolish enough to try to settle in these lands will eventually meet the same fat, losing their sanity and turning into little more than slavering beasts.

>"I shudder to think what could have caused such corruption in what was, according to the elders' reports, once a fertile land. The truly curious or intrepid may be able to investigate it further, but I, for one, want nothing more to do with this place. I will leave at first light tomorrow morning."

THE FORESTS OF SILENCE
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You look at the image of the Forests. It's quite cleverly done; while the closest parts to the viewer are done to resemble a typical, even idyllic enchanted forest, the further out and closer to the center one looks, the more subtly warped and darker the trees become, until the center is just a yawning black void.

"Perhaps one of the most fascinating places in the Echoes for a practicing scholar of the natural world, the Forests of Silence are a truly vast expanse of woodland, more than my good friend Erath would care to scout for me right now (at the time of writing, he is still sleeping off his great flight over the Lands of Always Winter).

>"The Forests, for all I have seen, have a diversity of fauna and flora rivaled only by the ocean. But beware, dear Reader, should you venture into the Forests, for they are home to not only all manner of feral beasts, but also to a clan of exiled Breezies known as the Dúnmharfóir. Smirk not at the idea; these malicious woodland sprites are not only gifted with powerful sorcery, but covet the flesh of outsiders above all else, seeking to mislead wayward drifters into their domain to be harvested for their blood and organs. Take extra care when traveling in these woods.

>The Dúnmharfóir are not the only threat, and indeed prefer to dwell only on the outer edge of the Forests. The further you may go, the taller the trees become, and the wildlife grow… stranger. It is here that I find it apt to compare the Forests to the ocean, with all the tales of strange and terrible beasts lurking blindly in the abyssal depths. The further you go, the blacker the Forests become, blocking out all sunlight. I must confess that I had not the heart to venture too far into the depths of the woods, for those who have managed to make peace with the Dúnmharfóir say that even they are terrified of making the journey into the forests' heart. If you must travel this way, take the old road around the forests. It is a long and arduous road, but much safer than disturbing whatever may slumber in this woodland realm."

THE SHIFTING SANDS
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The Sands are depicted in this book as a harsh, neverending desert of piercing scarlet sand, red as blood. There's nary a sign of life anywhere; it's almost like the counterpart to the Lands of Always Winter.

>"I have been to many harsh and unforgiving lands in the Echoes, but the Shifting Sands are up there with the worst of them. The constant sweltering heat, the ubiquitous droning sound, the constant sandstorms that whisk away your most prized possessions… There is something singularly sinister about the place that I cannot put my hoof on. It is almost as if the desert itself is alive.

>"If you plan on visiting this place, travel lightly, and stay alert. Monstrous insectoid Terreocti lurk beneath every dune, and in the canyons, shambling bone amalgamates lie in wait, brought to unlife by some magic I know not. The aforementioned sandstorms, if one is unlucky enough to get caught in one, will not harm you, but instead, by some fell trickery, strip you of all your most prized possessions, leaving you to wander aimlessly until exhaustion or the Terreocti claim you.

>"I do not plan on staying here for long. There is something else I cannot describe that makes me uncomfortable about this place. Perhaps it is the unnaturally round shape of the mountain range encircling the Sands, as if they were a cage keeping the desert in. Or perhaps it is the ever present pervasive drone, like a million worker bees. Whatever it is, I refuse to have my life end here. Erath and I will fly to greener lands this afternoon."

OSTVENGR'S GULLET
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The illustration on this page depicts an impressive sight; a huge chamber of stone and brass, part of what looks like a tomb, hosts a gargantuan dragon skull roughly the size of a building. This almost looks like a shrine dedicated to the ancient dragon, yet, there is a distinctly technological edge to the whole thing, with transparent glass piping running across the walls, and distinctive brass paneling on the walls. The dragon skull's jaw is opened wide, and a stone path leads through the teeth into a cavern dug behind it.

>"Ostvengr! Greatest and most terrible of calamities, slain by the Alicorn Twins long before the Age of Nightmares. For the longest time, he was thought to be a myth, and a myth he remains to the Dominion. Yet here, beneath the Weeping City, is proof of his existence. If only the outside world knew what the Echoes have to offer!

>"The erstwhile rulers of the City named their illustrious house in memory of this pernicious wyrm, and locked the secrets of their technological achievements in a secret town behind the skull. For lack of a proper name for it, I have dubbed it Ostvengr's Gullet. Be wary, dear Reader, if you seek this hidden village. While I have not been able to brave the City itself and reach the Gullet, the one drifter I met who had told me of what he saw there: mechanical hazards lie in wait at every corner, traps waiting to spring, defending the secret village from outsiders. Brass automata, still functioning as if frozen in time, patrol the village and destroy outsiders with impunity. And gravity itself, victim to House Ostvengr's experiments, behaves erratically around the village. Be wary if you seek their forbidden knowledge, dear Reader. The cost may be your blood…"

BRAILDORN
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The illustration depicts a strange looking town built on the banks of a river. The western half, which is built on land, is mostly built of tall cobble buildings with red brick roofs, and looks quite ordinary. The eastern half is rickety, and built all of wood. It seems to have its foundations underwater. The final result is a town that looks like two different towns stitched together by a drunk architect.

>"If you wander for long enough in these lands, your hooves will eventually take you to Braildorn. Though it may not look too appealing, this prosperous fishing town is the closest you will find to home. It began as an unassuming little hamlet, but over time, more and more drifters began to settle behind its walls. Decades of expansion have led to Braildorn becoming a thriving hub in the Echoes.

>"As is plain to see, Braildorn is a town divided; the eastern side was built to accommodate the growing population, and has since doubled the size of the town. It has districts as disparate as its denizens, a few of which I have listed below for your convenience:

>"The Bazaar District is Braildorn's beating heart, a gathering place for drifters and citizens alike. Choice foods and trinkets are bartered for freely here, and street performers and panhandlers are also a common sight. On its outskirts, many specialty shops can be found, having settled down and started a proper business in Braildorn.

>"Whiteharbor, the easternmost part of Braildorn, has no residential area, but is nevertheless one of the busiest regions of the town. It is from here that ships arrive and depart to and from the Broad River. Work opportunities are never scarce in Whiteharbor, so if you are able, it can never hurt to do honest work for honest pay here.

>"The Grosvenor Manor, on Mercy Isle, is the ancestrol home of the Grosvenor family, who have governed Braildorn since its days as a small fishing hamlet. This demesne is found off the northern shore of Braildorn, accessed by a heavily guarded stone bridge. Access to Lady Grosvenor's abode is strictly prohibited, except by invite.

>"The Downs are perhaps the largest of Braildorn's districts, but by no means the most pleasant. So called because they are the lowest point in the city, the Downs are a wretched little shanty town within Braildorn, full of thieves, beggars and other lowlifes. Braildorn's sewer systems, an elaborate maze running through the city, mostly exit into the Downs, leading to many of this district's residents being able to slip from one end of Braildorn to the other unnoticed via the sewers."

DURENWOL FEN
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The illustration depicts a large expanse of marshlands, twisted trees and mud. The art depicts a large, rickety wooden shack in the middle of the swamp; it would look perfectly ordinary, were the shack not standing on about a dozen huge, spindly legs like a spider's.

>"Beware the endless mires of Durenwol! If the constant mud, gas and mosquitoes are not enough to dissuade you, the threat of losing your way and becoming prey to any of the squirming, nameless things that lurk in the swamps should be enough to turn away all but the most brave or foolhardy. For those with a keen eye, however, a trip to Durenwol may prove most lucrative; a nefarious gang of bandits used to operate out of these lands until not too long ago, when they were ousted by their current ruler, who I shall write of more below. The location of the bandits' hideout, nicknamed the Raven's Nest, is subject to much debate among my fellow drifters; the Ravens, as the bandits were known, kept their secrets fiercely, and now none live to tell of where it may lie.

>"There is a way to traverse Durenwol unscathed, should you be able to pay the price. A warlock of Litharge, Black Pudding, has asserted himself as current master of Durenwol Fen, presiding over it from his Sanctuary, which I have depicted for you. The Druid of Durenwol, as some have taken to calling him, demands offerings from those that cross his lands; if they are granted, no harm comes to any that may travel through Durenwol. If not, they are left to brave the swamp, and surely perish. An offering can be any sort of object of particular interest; magical trinkets and baubles seem to be his preferred gifts. He refuses to answer any questions about the Raven's Nest, keeping its location and contents a jealously guarded secret. Do not anger the Druid, lest he cast a hex on you or take an eye to add to his collection."

THE BROAD RIVER
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The page shows what at first appears to be a lake; then, you see that it keeps stretching on the horizon, instead of being landlocked. It's just an enormous river, wider than any you've ever seen. Larrikin saw fit to add a few sailing ships to it.

>"A gash that splits the Echoes in twain. As I float downstream aboard one of its many ferries, I find that the Broad River has completely earned its name; never in all my time in the Dominion did I ever see a body of water of this magnitude. Flowing like tears from the slopes of Mount Alken, this king of all rivers is the  vein that carries the lifeblood of much of the central Echoes. The major ports of Braildorn, Withick, Broome, and Sardewald are all found on its banks, as well as the wandering port of Fiddler's Green.

>"Oftentimes, the Broad River is thriving with trade ships, transport ships, and even Sanctuaries, all heading from somewhere else to somewhere else. With these, however, come the usual dangerous. Great river monsters, such as the savage kelpies or the dreaded Mirodan, lurk beneath the water's depths, and above, there is the ever present threat of river pirates. The Broad River may be a beautiful sight, but as always, dear Reader, be on your toes."

THE BARRENS
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You flip to the last entry, which depicts a large, threadbare land, reminding you a little of the Blasted Heath, though not as cursed as the image would suggest. Dotting the landscape are hundreds upon hundreds of gravestones, coffins, and mausoleum entrances; it looks like an entire valley between two mountains just dedicated to the dead. You see that gargantuan statues of hooded figures are carved into the slopes of the mountains, ominous cloaked figures watching over the dead, each one clutching a sword held upside down like a cross. They must be at least 50 feet tall each. You're not sure if it's just a perspective error or if they really are that huge.

>"What a fascinating place this is! As I walk among the tombstones, reading their epitaphs, I come to the realization that this place contains the remains of people from all over space and time, not just exiles but those from the Dominion as well. It's like the universe itself has converged to give all these souls a place to rest.

>"For those less scrupulous than I, great fortune awaits amidst the sprawling tombs, and scholars of history may gain much from an expedition into this valley. But beware, for the dead may not take kindly to being disturbed…

>"I am sure, dear Reader, that your attention was drawn to the macabre figures that domineer the landscape of this place. I assure you that there is no error in their sheer scale; the Grim Colossi, as I have grown fond of calling them, are true marvels of artistic ambition, keeping their solmen vigil over their buried wards. Some may be uneasy walking in the shadow of these titans, but I, for one, feel somehow comforted by their presence. I shall have to ask Erath to take me to the top of one tomorrow."