The Frostspine waits.

You wake in Coldhollow, a hearth-town huddled under mountains that do not care whether you climb them. The town is warm. Nothing past the gate is. This page is the atlas: every town, every hunting ground, and what waits in each.

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The trail west of town is fraying: kobolds bold enough to raid in daylight, and the hunters muttering that something in the warren is pushing them out. Follow it for first blood on the trail, then up the Frostspine Climb, then into the dark where the scrappers hold ground and a shaman's fetishes smoke. At the warren's heart waits the chief: half again the size of any scrapper, and he fights like nothing you've faced. Watch his body, not his blade.

Coldhollow sits in the frigid north, under the Frostspine. The road south drops out of the snow through thawline, mixedwood, rainline, and orchard country to Emberford on the Emberrun, the temperate, busy river hub. Runmede lies farther south among its orchards and grain; the Lockwater Towpath reaches Southmere, the thirty-four-mile Sunfall Causeway reaches Millharrow, and the eighteen-mile Sunward Road descends to warm Aldermouth at the tidal head of the Emberrun—not yet the ocean coast. From Emberford's wharf the Emberrun Ferry crosses toward the cold eastern coast, where Brinemoot hunches against the wrack and, out past the floes, drowned Kingsholm stands back above the ice. West of the Frostspine the Sunstead Pass climbs through the Pale Steps to Hammerdeep, the dwarven hold that is only now unsealing its doors. And above it all stands the Wyrmcrown, the mountain the realm is quietly organized around, whose upper reaches are for the strongest hunters the world has.

Every region below is real, walkable, and open. No zone is instanced, gated behind a quest, or level-locked. The level ranges are what the local wildlife thinks of you, not a rule. Roads between towns are the safest ground; what watches the road is not always content to stay off it.

There is a coherent progression from level 1 to 100. Level 79 is an intentional travel-and-preparation interval at Ledger Stone rather than a fabricated hunting population. Roughly:

Hunting somewhere that outmatches you is allowed, discouraged by the wildlife, and occasionally the making of a story. The creature finder in the browser client will show you every room a beast haunts. For a coherent route rather than a raw level table, follow The First Fifteen, then choose the mountain, coast, or sunward road through level thirty, then use Roads Beyond Thirty for the finite Hallward, Singing and Marchhold fronts and the contiguous Crownward ladder.

• Coldhollowhome
  The hearth-town. It was never a farm town; it was the counting-house for a silver mine that went quiet two generations back, which is why a "dying" town owns a gemcutter, a bank and a strongroom. The fountain square where Eilwen the empath takes strangers' hurts onto herself; the Chapel of the Undying Flame, where the fallen walk back into the light; Market Row, the lockers, the inn where training happens over a paid bed, a gem buyer for what you dig out of the dark, and a consignment shelf that will sell your surplus while you are out. In the gate yard Bel Harrow keeps a stable, because some journeys are better ridden than walked. Town is sanctuary; no fight can start inside it, and nothing hostile can follow you in. Three roads leave it: the trail west toward the warren, the Coldhollow Road south, and the Ore Road north.
• The Frostspine Trail & the Warrenlevels 1–5
  Out the west gate and up: the first ground almost everyone hunts. Snow hares on the lower trail, then the kobolds: dirty scavengers first, then the scarred scrappers who hold the warren mouth, and gaunt frost wolves working the frozen falls and the den above. Deep in the warren the chief waits, half again the size of any scrapper, and he fights like nothing you have met so far. This is where Saga I sends you, and where your first five levels almost certainly happen. Found there: a snow hare, a dirty kobold, a scarred kobold scrapper, a gaunt frost wolf, the warren chief.
• The Withered Yard & the Coldhollow Catacombslevels 1–10
  The town's graveyard, gone wrong below the lychgate, and the crypts beneath it. It starts with plague-rats and restless skeletons and ends with things that were buried with crowns, and some of its dead ignore plain steel entirely. Found there: a grave ghoul, a hollow-throated grave chanter, a crowned barrow-wight.
• The Highreach & Lanternwatchlevels 8–15
  The Ore Road runs north out of Coldhollow to the silver-lead mine that made the town. sealed behind its iron gate two generations ago, mid-season, and never explained. At the treeline the old freight-station of Lanternwatch still holds, its mast-lantern never let go out: while the lantern burns, the road is open. Beyond it the high country belongs to wolf packs, delver galleries, and the Kettle, a steaming hot spring that is the best rest on the mountain, which the sabrecats also know. Found there: a black-hackled timber wolf, a hulking cave bear, a snow sabrecat, a gnarled hill troll.
• Hollowrunlevels 12–18
  A river gorge and the realm's second north–south artery: it climbs from above Emberford's orchards all the way to the Ore Road at Hollowrun Falls through spray, scree, and undercut banks where the current keeps its own counsel. Found there: a gorge sabrecat, an undercut creeper, the Flumekeeper.
• The Deep Delvingslevels 16–25
  Below Highreach the digging goes deeper than any town record admits. Tallow-light, seam-rats, and a delve that has its own reeves and its own law. Found there: a pale tallow-spider, a delve-reeve, an armored vein-crawler.

• The Coldhollow–Emberford Roadsquiet long road · dangerous shortcut 1–4
  The official Long Road measures every one of its forty-two miles from Coldhollow's snow shelf to Emberford's river gate. Its six refuges, mile ledgers, avalanche watch, thawline, mixedwood, rainline, hayroad, and orchards make the change of climate a journey rather than a jump. Wardens, surveyors, carriers, and a scheduled caravan travel it; the road trunk and refuges are deliberately free of creature spawns. The older learned route is still the fast, dangerous traversal over iced switchbacks and the frozen falls. Kobolds work its rockslide bend, frost wolves hold its wood, and its glazes will put a heedless runner on their back. Grip footwear is sold at both ends for exactly this reason. Found there: a snow hare, a dirty kobold, a scarred kobold scrapper, a gaunt frost wolf.
• Emberfordhub · sanctuary
  Everything Coldhollow no longer is: a palisaded market town at the river crossing, a day's walk south and more than a thousand meters down: loud, temperate, and open for business. The Crooked Flagon inn, the Silver Scale Counting House, the Temple of the Dawnflame, the Fishmarket Wharf, the Bitterleaf Apothecary, an exchange that buys gems and ore, the Adventurers' Registry with its writ desk and its surveyor's map of the local grounds, and player housing on the quieter streets. Down on Flotsam Bank, outside the walls, a hollow-eyed tideline fence pays well and asks nothing. The walls are sanctuary; the Gate Approach outside them stays wild. Relief begins at the gate, not before it.
• The Emberford environslevels 1–7
  The south's first hunting grounds, all within a shout of the walls: down the wharf ladder to the tideline mudflats, west to a feral orchard, east into the reedmarsh, which gets deeper, and worse, the further from the road you wade. Found there: a sleek river rat, a bristle-backed boar, a rangy marsh hound, an oily bog lurker.
• The Wether Fellslevels 3–8
  Sheep country looping between Coldhollow's west trail and the southern road: drove walls, wind, red harts, and the Redshanks, a camp of freebooters whose campmaster does not care for visitors. Found there: a wall-grey fell wolf, a red moor hart, Coll Redshank, the campmaster.
• Runmedetown · levels 1–4
  A cider-and-orchards town in the grain-lands below Emberford, with barge docks, a market green, lockers, and the gentlest hunting in the realm: voles, herons, and wasps drunk on windfall apples. One of its orchards was sung into shape by elves, and the grafts still hold the tune. Its docks are the head of the barge road south. Around the public Water Ledger, its archive, barge guild, lock court, common granary, and standards loft make water rights, famine reserves, apprenticeships, and trade law rooms you can enter. Found there: a plump orchard vole, a reeling cider-wasp, a russet hedge-buck, a moss-backed marsh snapper, a thick-bodied bank eel.
• The Thawlands & Southmerelevels 4–16
  Fen country down the barge road, where the ground never quite agrees to be land. Southmere has a hearthhall, weighhouse bank, the realm's first pet shop, and a twelve-room Lockward civic quarter for water, rescue, archives, hospice, and public hearings. Behind its south stile the Deep Wold hardens fast: iron-elk, wold-stalkers, a toll-takers' steading, and the Mireback in its sink. Found there: a banded fen adder, a black fen tusker, an iron-elk, a blackbow archer.
• Sunfall Shirelevels 11–22
  Hedge-country reached by a thirty-four-mile quiet causeway past the Mireback's sink: orchards gone feral, public drainage, sunken lanes, and locals whose politeness has edges. Millharrow's twelve-room Grain Court makes seed, mill, orchard, shortage, family, and south-road law explorable. The Harrow Sow is spoken of quietly. Found there: a willow-hung carr-troll, a hired road agent, the Harrow Sow, the Old Wallow.
• Aldermouth & the Sunward Thresholdwarm town · branches 16–27
  Eighteen inhabited miles south of Millharrow, the road reaches citrus, cane, humid rain, and tidal water at Aldermouth. Its canal market, relief tribunal, pilot school, chart room, travelers, and working institutions make this the first warm anchor—not an invented coastline. Hunting leaves the safe road for the Warm Orchard, Flooded Shrine, and Delta Reeds; the delta and open sea remain unbuilt. Found there: orchard mold, a citrus-heart borer, a flood-drowned cantor, a lantern-vein parasite, a bell-shell matron, a reedscale caiman.

• The Emberrun Ferry & the Saltmeadslevels 5–9
  Below Emberford the river is too wide to ford, so the crossing is a boat, the Patience, off the Fishmarket Wharf, on a real schedule. Two bells warn before she casts off; LOOK BOAT from either landing tells you where she is; and mid-river her deck is open sky, with everything that implies. She is the way over the Emberrun to the coast and the Marchhold. The salt-meads around the far landing have their own tenants, and the Tidewife walks them. Found there: a rime-crusted brine boar, a dripping wrack-shambler, the Tidewife.
• Brinemoot & the Wrack-Coasttruce-ground · levels 8–18
  East along the wrackline the skorl (walrus-folk with long memories) hold their ice-market: stake lines instead of walls, a weigh-tripod instead of a courthouse, and a truce that is honoured because everyone present remembers why. The coast pays in wreck-rights, walrus-oil and the best skin prices on the shore, and the skorl rows will sell you a floe leopard cub, if you think you can keep one. The Salt Peace now opens into its stake archive, salvage court, winter quota chamber, ice hospice, and treaty vault, where that truce has procedures as well as a legend. The strand and the floes beyond are worked by wolves, leopards and skorl renegades who no longer honour anything. Ask at the moot ring about the Griefswan; this coast's two oldest arguments are what she was carrying, and why she was this far north. Found there: a salt-grey strand wolf, a pale floe leopard, a line-scarred skorl harpooner, Skallag the Unmoored.
• The Reaver Skerrieslevels 18–26
  Over the ice-bridge past the far pans: the drowned teeth of the coast, held by the reaver crews of Gravskarr, who sink what they cannot rob. Gull-hounds on the rocks, ice-bears on the pack, and the green dark under the floe for those who go looking. Found there: a sea-glazed ice-bear, a bone-mailed thane-guard, the Reaver-Mother of Gravskarr, the Pale Bull.
• Kingsholm, the Drowned Isleport · wilds 18–24 · court 25–30 · deeps 30–32
  Out where the floes give onto grey water, a peak of the Drowned King's sea-taken realm stands back above the ice. Wreckers found it first, as wreckers do, and built the Shingle on its strand out of everything the tide owed them. Getting there is the realm's first true sea voyage aboard the packet Kittiwake out of Brinemoot's ice-quay. There is no walkable mainland connection. The Wrecktithe Hall, Pilot House, Kelp Exchange, Boilhouse Council, Spring Ledger, and Island Archive expose how a small island governs salvage, navigation, freshwater, industry, memory, and dependence on freight. Below the safe port the old kingdom goes down in layers: warm-relict wilds where marsh drakes nest, a barnacled court that still holds session around an empty throne, and deeps where the Drowned King's Herald announces a king no one has seen. Parts of it are reachable only by swimming, in the dark, holding your breath. The old kingdom's tide-roads, the realm's only portals, begin here, and its last gate has never been opened. No key to it has ever been found. Found there: a marsh drake, a wight-clerk, the Seneschal of the Drowned Court, the Drowned King's Herald.

• The Western Pass & the Pale Stepslevels 11–26
  The Sunstead Pass hangs west off Coldhollow's trail country and climbs through reiver ground to Thornfold, the last inhabited hearth in the west, a crofter hamlet behind its blackthorn hedge. Beyond it stands Sunstead Abbey, abandoned mid-meal in 889 with the tables still set; the Daykeepers never came back, but Prior Aldous did not leave, and the old ghost will tell you about it if you sit. Higher still the Pale Steps shelf belongs to hoar-cats, pale trolls and Mother Rime: real climbing, real ice, and blue-glaze footing that punishes a hurried step even after a perfect pitch. Found there: a slate-grey crag cat, a keen-eyed reiver waylayer, a stone-dusted graven thrall.
• Hammerdeephaven · underways 25–30
  The dwarven mother-hold sealed itself through the Long Winter. It remained shut until its watchers heard the abbey bell ring over the west for the first time in two centuries, and drew back the seals on the West Hall. Inside is a living tunnel town: the best plain arms in the realm, the best skin prices in the world, a bank, a hearthhall. Below the winze-head the law is the writ board, and one way on is a long cold swim through the hold's own cistern. The Underways belong to the Sundered, kin-lines exiled when the hold sealed its doors with their caravans still on the road. Fifteen hundred years in the dark taught them liturgy, not forgiveness. Found there: a pale-eyed maw-hound, an iron-veiled grudge-chanter, Vargr the Unforgiven.
• The Veinslevels 31–36
  Below even Hammerdeep, where the rock is warm and something down there sings the shifts. The quiet-shift hewers do not stop working, and it is better not to ask for whom. Found there: a heat-fat vein leech, a quiet-shift overman, the Choirmaster.
• The Highshelveslevels 27–32
  Glass-cased terraces above the pass where the frost-sworn keep their margins. Things stand cased in rime on the shelves, and not all of them stay cased. Found there: a rime-cased hulk, a glass-veined stalker, the Doorward of the Margins.

• The Marchholdlevels 26–47
  A fortress the size of a town on the far bank of the Emberrun. Take the ferry, then the front stair; the drowned water-gate the rogues brag about is a colder story. The house motto is THE HOUSE KEEPS, and it does: seven banded floors from the muster yards to the high vaults, each a step harder than the last, with toll cutters and their hexers, the grainmother rats, the scald-haunts, and above them things the Hold's own chapel does not name. The protected Relief Stable links recovered seals and issue records to living families instead of treating the castle as anonymous loot. Somewhere south, a farmer's child stands entitled to all of it and has never heard the word Marchhold. Found there: a ban-hound, the Tollreeve, a grainmother rat, a scald-haunt.
• The Wyrmshoulderlevels 34–40
  The long climb from Highreach onto the mountain proper: god-crows on the wind, shoulder trolls in the flint, and the Graven Door with its patient Sexton. The Crownward Muster provides local work, medicine, supplies and witnessed return without pretending the shoulder has become a town. Found there: an iron-black god-crow, a keening wind-gaunt, the Sexton of the Graven Door.
• The Wyrmcrownlevels 41–50
  The mountain above the realm, where the Palewatch keeps its frost-hollowed sentinels and lamplighters on walls nobody remembers building. Survey Return remains the mountain's one regional waking fire, now joined to a thin Compact of task desks, field medicine, proof custody and freight relays rather than a bank or settlement. Higher still, hunters speak of a shape on the wind that is not weather. Some things on the mountain are for seeing, not fighting. Found there: a frost-hollowed palewatch sentinel, a great wyrmlight stag, a frost-maned ounce.
• The high chainlevels 50–100
  Past the Wyrmcrown the world keeps going up, and down: the Ramparts (50–58), the Underchain (58–68), the Perch (68–78), the Hang (80–89), and the Crack (90–100): the endgame's country, where the gilded vigil keeps its lamps, the Sounded speak from the dark, and the last hundred rooms assume you have earned them. Level 79 is the staffed Ledger Stone interval for passage and preparation, not an invented creature band. Found there: a gilded vigil oathkeeper, a mouth of the Sounded, a scale warden, the still lantern.

Four guilds keep real halls in the world, and you join by walking in; nobody sends you a letter. The Hearthwardens keep their chapter house and censery in Coldhollow, beside the chapel. The Rogues' Guild runs an entry hall, a common room and a courtyard behind an unremarkable door in Emberford. The Verderers keep a lodge and a kennel run out past Emberford's fields, where a ranger can be matched with a hound, a hawk or a ferret of their own. And the warriors drill at the Pell Yard, up the Ore Road toward Lanternwatch, where the armsmaster will tell you exactly how little your stance impresses him.

Roads connect every town, and walking is never gated. Every seam on this page can be crossed on foot except the water: the Patience crosses the Emberrun, and the packet Kittiwake makes the sea-run from Brinemoot to Kingsholm. In-game, TRAVEL walks a road you already know so your fingers don't have to. The northern roads glaze in winter, and Heavy Snow, Blizzard, Storm Front, or Cold Snap can hold the caravan, empty imported shelves, raise affected prices, and make emergency stock appear. Market notices in Runmede, Brinemoot, and Kingsholm tell you what changed and why. Grip footwear is sold at both ends for a reason, and some ways forward are honest climbs or swims, with everything that implies about what you're carrying. Each region wakes its dead at its own resting place, whether chapel, temple, hearthhall or spring, so the far country buries you closer to where you fell. The browser client's map draws all of it as you walk, and will walk you back to anywhere you've been with a click.

This page names the grounds and their tenants and leaves the rest for you to find. A fair number of rooms hold something that is not in the description until you search for it: a hidden way on, a cellar, a room the map does not know about, and the realm also keeps wonder-sites, locked doors, buried shrines and at least one gate with no key. When you find something this page does not mention, that is working as intended. For the long version of any area, the player wiki's world section goes deeper, and holds to the same rule: it hints, it never solves.