- Pronoun
- they or she
The patterns of nature are found again and again, in all times and places. A tree's branches are like its roots, and in turn like the fork of lightning in the sky, the cracking of dry earth, the deltas of rivers, the airways of living lungs...
For the most part, the Kivaran tundra is a relatively flat expanse of snow and moss covered ground. But in the region of the Starscrape Heaves, the ground bucks and rolls, driven skyward in gentle mounds by the dungeon's ice as it swells upwards with each freeze. Even in summer, the dungeon’s many low, cave-like entrances contain a toothy array of icicles and frozen stalagmites, looking for all intents and purposes like the maws of the earth itself. Local tribes tell that they are the mouths of those poor souls who – in life – preyed on thinking 'mon, now cursed to a state of endless hunger.
Once past such icy barricades, the dungeon sprawls out in a wide series of caverns that despite the chill, feel warmer than the air outside. Perhaps it’s the humidity born from the bioluminescent mosses and lichens that cling to both floor and ceiling. On the higher dungeon levels, they’re more sparse, but as one descends further into the Heaves, the moss grows thicker, creating constellations of light across the cavern ceilings.
Though it’s never been formally documented, Kivaran delvers assert that the Heaves are in constant flux, closing old entrances and opening new ones throughout the seasons. These nomadic Sneasel and others in their culture consider the dungeon a sacred site, a place 'closer to the stars', where one can glean insights and even prophecies from its subsurface 'stars'. Tribal 'mon can sometimes be found there on a kind of pilgrimage, in an attempt to attain spiritual enlightenment, learn the future, or undergo a personal transformation.
For the most part, the Kivaran tundra is a relatively flat expanse of snow and moss covered ground. But in the region of the Starscrape Heaves, the ground bucks and rolls, driven skyward in gentle mounds by the dungeon's ice as it swells upwards with each freeze. Even in summer, the dungeon’s many low, cave-like entrances contain a toothy array of icicles and frozen stalagmites, looking for all intents and purposes like the maws of the earth itself. Local tribes tell that they are the mouths of those poor souls who – in life – preyed on thinking 'mon, now cursed to a state of endless hunger.
Once past such icy barricades, the dungeon sprawls out in a wide series of caverns that despite the chill, feel warmer than the air outside. Perhaps it’s the humidity born from the bioluminescent mosses and lichens that cling to both floor and ceiling. On the higher dungeon levels, they’re more sparse, but as one descends further into the Heaves, the moss grows thicker, creating constellations of light across the cavern ceilings.
Though it’s never been formally documented, Kivaran delvers assert that the Heaves are in constant flux, closing old entrances and opening new ones throughout the seasons. These nomadic Sneasel and others in their culture consider the dungeon a sacred site, a place 'closer to the stars', where one can glean insights and even prophecies from its subsurface 'stars'. Tribal 'mon can sometimes be found there on a kind of pilgrimage, in an attempt to attain spiritual enlightenment, learn the future, or undergo a personal transformation.
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Many thanks to @Panoramic_Vacuum for her help with the writeup!