Rising sharp and jagged above the western edge of the Windcrest Valley, the Dragonspire Mountains are a land of sheer granite cliffs, glacier-cut ridges, and alpine meadows that burst into wildflowers each spring. Their name comes from their silhouette: a row of serrated peaks that, at dawn and dusk, resemble the spines of some colossal, slumbering dragon. Glacial lakes glimmer like mirrors in hidden cirques, while waterfalls plunge from icy heights into roaring rivers that carve the valley below.
Unlike the ashen, volcanic Pale Mountains to the east, the Dragonspires are alive with color and vitality. Winds whistle through forests of red fir and ancient juniper, and herds of elk and mountain goats roam the high passes. The range has long served as a natural barrier, shielding Windcrest from storms rolling in off the western sea. Yet its beauty hides danger: avalanches, sheer drops, and sudden storms make travel treacherous, and more than one traveler has vanished into its peaks without a trace.
Legends tell of ancient dragons that once nested in the highest spires, their bones said to be buried beneath the glaciers. Whether truth or myth, the mountains remain a place of awe, peril, and untamed majesty—a realm that looms eternal over Windcrest Valley.