The Shadow Lands of the Dead

In the Shadow Lands of the Dead, the River Hyburleth divides the world of the living from that of immortals. Wide, black, and slow, its surface shines like hammered obsidian beneath a sky of perpetual twilight. A silver mist drifts low across the water, rising and curling in shapes that sometimes seem almost human, as though the river itself remembers every soul it has carried.

On one shore lies Negwh, where the spirits of the Besnir gather. On the other is Sopora, where the souls of all men tarry. All stand in watchful silence, eyes fixed upon the black waters. None speak. All wait for the season of their transport. Time does not pass there like it does in the worlds of the living. The long twilight never gives in to day.

Every Festal Mon, the Ferryman comes and stopping first on one shore, and then the other, takes his passengers on their fateful journey. Through the mist, the prow of the long ferry emerges, and the Ferryman’s shadow rises at its stern. Whether from causeway or pier, every one of the dead must take the same step: down into the boat, and then along the river to their appointed end. Besnir will disembark at the first stops, their spirits rejoining that of their primogenitor on the worlds for which they are destined. Human souls will continue to the celestial city of Solenth -- there to face the judgment seat made before the foundation of the world.

The Marsh of Negwh
Nine streams, each different in strength, flow down from unseen highlands—one a crashing torrent, another no more than a whisper of trickling water. They braid together into a broad marshland of green reeds and soaking grass, the ground is soft enough that even the weightless feet of spirits would sink.

Through this mire runs an ancient causeway: a raised path of dark timbers bound together, their surfaces warped and slick with age. Moss clings to the beams, and water seeps beneath, but still the path endures, winding across the marsh to the riverbank. Spirits tread silently along its length, their forms pale in the mist, until they reach the ferry landing where the water swallows the land.

The air of Negwh is thick and damp, heavy with the smell of moss and wet earth. No bird sings here. Only the sigh of the streams and the soft groan of the old wood mark the passage of the dead. The spirits gather here waiting for the Ferryman. To keep them from despair, Melenne Erebenne is a sylph-like being which dances to distract and give dreams to those waiting.

Some hold that there are areas of Negwh not commonly known, pools born of the waters which feed the Hyburleth. The Dwarves, for example, hold that there are Swanships there, upon which the Enheri depart immediately without waiting for the Ferryman.

Soporia — The Docks of Men

In contrast to the primeval marsh of Negwh, Soporia feels newer—a straight dock of hewn timbers, built as though a mortal harbor town had been stripped of life and sound. Lanterns hang at the edges, burning pale blue flames that flicker without warmth.

Behind the dock stands a low public house, square and simple, where human souls gather in silence to await the boatman. Its windows glow faintly, though no voice, laughter, or song ever rises from within. Beside it loom several featureless warehouses, built without sign or purpose, their doors forever shut. They stand like empty shells, monuments to forgotten labor.