Although the mountains are not so "peaky" and are easier to fit together to make a Sierra/mountain range, I agree with Quenten.

If I could choose, I would leave these "peaky" hills - because more and more and infinite icons are always useful, but also smooth hills.

If I had to choose between the two, I prefer go with the smoother ones.

P.S.: The shape of the mountains is really beautiful. The first time I saw the image with all the icons together, they completely captured my attention.

I also comment that the viewing angle of the mountains and hills is very beautiful, I don't know if that is the correct term to express it.

Wait a minute! What would happen if there was no smalllandscape photo/map? 😅

I went to sleep thinking about Veilvale and woke up with the panorama of a destroyed city.

Veilvale’s Disgrace

There was a time when Veilvale was a haven among the hills. From its docks, fishermen returned laden with fish from Murky Lake. The fields around it were fertile, the taverns always full, and the winds that came down from the mountains carried the sweet smell of ripening crops. No army had ever marched upon its roads, no plague had ever plagued its people. Veilvale was a haven.

Then came the tremors.

The mountains to the north roared like awakened beasts, spewing fire and death. The sky darkened with ash, the air grew thick and toxic. Murky Lake became a graveyard, its waters tinged green and black, boiling with sulfur and consuming everything it touched. Pastures lay barren, livestock died in agony, and the earth itself opened up to swallow homes whole. The few who survived fled to the coastal lands, carrying only the rags they had on their bodies. Veilvale was abandoned and forgotten.

The Dark Heart of Veilvale

But one structure still stands tall amidst the ruins - a shadowy silhouette against the perpetually overcast sky, the Tower of Vessanthor.

No one knows who built it. Some say it was Abscess IV himself, or one of his alchemists. Others believe the tower is much older, built on something that should never have been disturbed. In the past, the people of Veilvale avoided speaking of it, despite its constant presence over the city.

Now, its forgotten halls are a pit of darkness. Its top is cracked, tilted like a bony finger pointing toward the merciless heavens. But its subterranean bowels remain intact, sealed with iron doors and carved with runes from times gone by.

The Black Blood Spiders

Veilvale may be dead, but something crawls among its ruins. Monstrous spiders, their exoskeletons hardened by sulfur, proliferate in the fallen structures, turning the halls of abandoned buildings into their lairs. Their bloated bodies are greenish black, and their fangs drip a venom that burns like acid. They do not hunt like ordinary predators—they wait, ambush, move in the shadows, and watch.

Some travelers say there is something wrong with them. That they are intelligent, that they work together, that they guard the Tower of Vessanthor like evil sentinels. As if they are not just creatures of nature, but guardians placed there by something much older and crueler.

At least for now, this section is finished @Monsen @Quenten 12 more maps to the Atlas <3.

Thank you very much!

The Tomb of Abscess IV

In ancient times, before the skies were stained with soot and the rivers turned to sulphur, Abscess IV ruled with an iron fist and a sharp mind. He was no ordinary king – his crown was made not only of gold, but of alchemical secrets and formulas known only to him.

It is said that in his prime, the mighty King discovered the secret of ultimate transmutation. Some say he sought eternal life, others that his obsession was absolute power. Whatever the truth, he ordered the construction of a tomb even before his death – not as a simple mausoleum, but as a shrine of alchemy, a place where forbidden secrets would be buried with him.

The ancients spoke with reverence of his tomb, a pyramid of stone carved into the bowels of the earth. But then came the great eruptions—mountains spewed fire, the skies turned to perpetual night, and the purging of the earth devoured the entire island. When the ash finally settled, the Tomb of Abcess IV had disappeared beneath an even greater tomb: an ocean of volcanic debris.

The Forgotten Treasures

The old storytellers speak of unparalleled riches hidden within the tomb—not mere coins or jewels, but artifacts of unimaginable power. Alchemy manuscripts that could disintegrate mountains, elixirs that could turn flesh to gold, and blades that would never rust. But above all these treasures, one legend stands tall: The Abscess Machine.

The Abscess Machine

In the deepest chamber of the tomb, protected by sigils that not even the dead dare violate, lies the final creation of the alchemist king. A mechanism of living metal, pulsing with hidden energy. It is said that it was built for a single purpose: to consume souls and distill the very essence of life.

The Tombkeepers

Neither suffocating ash nor oblivion have extinguished the king's watchmen. Within the buried corridors of the tomb, beings still prowl. They say that the enemies who betrayed Abcess were melted down and molded into bronze statues, condemned to remain eternally as their master's guardians. Their metal armor creaks as they move, and their hollow eyes still burn with the glow of ancient enchantments.

Others speak of golems forged of mercury, moldable as smoke and sharp as blades. And there are those who say that even the dead of Abscess still walk, not as ghosts, but as experiments of twisted flesh, creatures that should not exist.

The Mausoleum of the Guardians

Few dare to pronounce the name of Surubon, the Devourer of Souls, for even the memory of his existence carries a funereal weight on the shoulders of the living. But there is a place where his name still burns in the depths of the stone, where the steel of the dead still resounds in the sepulchral silence: the Mausoleum of the Guardians.

In times that no longer count in centuries, during the reign of Abcess IV, in an era of darkness and blood, Surubon tore the veil of reality and entered this world. Not as an army, nor as a storm, but as a disease that consumed kings and beggars, devouring souls and leaving behind empty bodies, moved only by his unholy will. No blade could cut him, no shield could stop him. The very air turned to poison around him, and the king's armies were reduced to nothing before they even touched their swords to the enemy.

It was then up to the Crown Guards, the bravest warriors and mages of Abcess IV, to capture the demon. Seventeen men and women set out, led by the archmage Vaedros Murk, bearing anointed weapons, ancient runes, and hearts that would not hesitate in the face of the abyss. For two days and three nights, they fought against the entity in a valley forgotten by the gods, while the stars faded in the sky and the very ground pulsed like living flesh.

Surubon did not bleed, but each enchantment weakened him; each blow driven into his shadowy flesh reduced his fury, until, exhausted and mutilated, the Guardians chanted the last rite, a forbidden sacrifice. With their own blood and the last strength they had left, they used their own souls to seal him. They did not kill the demon—they became his prison.

The Mausoleum of the Guardians was built on the ruins of the battlefield, carved from grey rock, shrouded in sigils so ancient that even the dead avoid its presence. Rivers of liquid silver run in deep grooves in the walls, forming a labyrinth of sorcery capable of tearing the sanity of those who approach it.

The Guardians do not rest. Their spirits, torn apart by sacrifice, remain trapped between life and death, guarding the runes and hunting any fool who dares enter the dark corridors. There are no allies here, only shadows that wield swords and hurl curses with the same voices that once cried out for the king. They are both jailers and prisoners, condemned to an eternity of vigil, so that the horror they fought against will never awaken.