Not even the elves, longest lived of the peoples of the Long Coast, have records from the time of the Rising. And before that? Only the oldest of their tales, mere bits of tales if the truth be told, even mention what might have existed before that time. Before the great barrier was raised. For raised, it clearly was. The broken ruins of castles, old walls and the occasional tower rise at strange angles from the spurs of the western slopes; telling of a time when the rise of the land wasn't quite so steep. Tales of hunters and scouts, returned from forays into the peaks, say that such evidence of earlier civilization litter even the deepest areas. There are no records of this earlier civilization. No memories. No real stories. Just rumors and fireside tales to while away the dark of night.

But oh are there questions. Plenty of questions.  Who were these early people? Did they all perish with the rising of the mountains? If not, where are they now?  Who raised the mighty range of mountains?  Why?  And perhaps the most important, at least to our tale, what lies on the far side of the Barrier Peaks?

It's been beyond the lifespan of even the longest lived of the elven people since the search for a pass through the Barrier Peaks first began. Ever since the first tales were told of the endless sea of eastern peaks, seen from the top of the first western ridge, people have wondered where, and if, they end.  For thousands of years, brave adventurers competed with one another, at first to gain the treasures of this missing civilization, but most importantly they all sought a pass through the peaks. Over the millenniums, many a false pass has been explored, some leading hundreds of miles into the mountains.  Some led to long-hidden valleys; home to enclaves of strange beasts and monsters out of legend.  Creatures that were best left undisturbed.

Other times it was the monsters who found the brave adventures, or worse, followed them back out to their homes. And so, while the search for a pass continued, the encounters with the mountains darker residents increased at an alarming rate.  The edge of the mountains became an increasingly dangerous place.  As the influx of all the ‘easily’ accessible wealth of the western ridges began to dry up and the incursions of seemingly endless monsters increased, the residents of the Long Coast began to take a dim look on adventurers.  With less wealth, less support and ever increasing danger, the adventurers slowly faded back into cities, towns and villages.

As adventurers pulled back, the military stepped in.  The discovered passes, all false trails, still needed to be defended to stem the encroaching tide of monsters.  The coordinated efforts of the military were exactly what was needed.  As each pass into the mountains was also a pass out of them, the men of the military set about systematically closing them off with walls and towers.  They sent organized scouts to explore and map the ‘known’ areas.   Rumors were recorded and compiled and then tested for veracity.  The mapping continued.

Then, at last, a trail was found deep in the glacial north.  It was not a trek for the weak.  Thirty days of hard travel to the break at the top of the highest ridge.  But many made the journey, if only to look out over the Eastlands and then turn about for the long trek home.  It took another 100 years, from the time the first explorer looked out from that break in the ridge, until another explorer found a passage down through the eastern ridges.

The final leg of the descent passed through a wide, sheltered valley.  It is here that the combined military of the Long Coast is building Eastholm.  And once again, the call has gone out.  Explorers, no Adventurers, are needed once again.