The first adventures in Khara Thel took place in the Kingdom of Ferromaine. They were off to the east of the island around a small town called Barton. Adventurers would buy supplies after their long journey to the edge of the tundra. Then they would head into the Orancarx Deathtrap. A relic from the Age of Magi where they’d construct elaborate tombs as challenges to the inevitable tomb-robbers. At least those who stole from them would be worthy of the loot.
The trip to Barton was mostly from the capital, Excelsior: itself a large city full of intrigue with ancient noble houses plotting against each other for control of the various merchant houses. Underneath it all the various guilds, and organized crime gangs who masquerade as guilds, vie for the patronage of the rich in their dirty schemes. Its location on a delta of marshy islands, the confluence of the Great River and the Silverweb River, make it full of little canals, bridges, and high-walkways for the noble-classes to walk above the hoi-poloi and their stench.
Travelling to Barton was most often done along the coast. The mountains called the Fangharad Peaks are a harsh barrier and it doesn’t help that the pilgrim’s trail to Lake Chinata passes the chasm. Tales blame the chasm as the source of monsters that hunt the Fangharad Peaks and spread into the old forests.
The coast road is much safer. It passes through many villages and a few large towns. Badonium is a city in decline. It once rivalled the capital, Excelsior, but has fallen into despair. Its people seem unable to improve their lot, or even keep it from getting worse, a malaise is in the spirit of Badonium.
The road turns to a muddy trail that passes through the great swamps between Windemere and Promontory Point. It is as if the lake is growing, slowly claiming more of the land, turning it to swamp, and then submerging it. For this reason traders have been using ships instead of the wagons between Shoreton & Windemere and Promontory Point.
Barton is still a few days away from Promontory Port by land but at least the journey is near the sea and there are a few hamlets of fisherfolk who brave the cold winds of Barren Sound.
Once in Barton, the Orancarx Deathtrap is a full day’s hard ride to the west, on the edge of the Orancarx Range. There is a small trader out the front who has built a store out of his gypsy wagon. They say he has the protection of all his ancestral grandmothers, each of them gypsy witches, and none dare bother him. He trades items from those who delve the depths and what he does with them is a mystery; but he always has currency. Yet he seems lonely, or very friendly, and is always willing to talk and offer recipes for making tasty meals out of mundane trail provisions.