⚔ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ⚔

The Greycloak Hills, once called the Tomb Hills, roll across western Faerûn like a sea of quiet green waves, veiled perpetually in silvery mist. This region, steeped in ancient memory, is riddled with forgotten barrows and crypts from the time of the Fallen Kingdom—human kings and elven warriors alike interred beneath the tall, grass-covered ridges and weathered stone cairns. Now home to a community of moon elves from Evereska, the hills have transformed into a mystical refuge. The Evereskans have woven protective magic into the land, enshrouding the region in ethereal mist that both conceals and safeguards. This magic, combined with the locals’ tradition of wearing muted gray garb, lent the hills their current name. Sparse copses of trees dot the high slopes, while ruined tombs blend into the landscape, their secrets guarded by illusion, enchantment, and reverent silence. The Greycloak Hills are a place of remembrance, quiet wonder, and enduring harmony.

Gentle hills rise beneath a cloak of drifting silver mist, their slopes dotted with wild grass, brambles, and low shrubs. Here and there, stone barrows and broken archways peek through the fog, softened by time and ivy. Gray-cloaked elves walk silently among the ridges, their forms barely visible in the haze. Occasional trees twist skyward from lonely hilltops, their branches damp with dew and enchanted stillness. The air hums faintly with old magic and watchful peace.