Black Tusk
A dying mountain, for it is crumbling at a fantastic rate. Rocks break off nigh constantly to fall to the scree slopes below. The cracking sounds like gunshots; the resident ravens respond with indifference, fright and raucous outrage. In the winter, the viciously cold wind and snow accelerate the dying of the rock, and in the summer the heat expands the black rock to even further speed the mortality of this majestic mountain.

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