The Pinnacle
Realm of Dunatis
Location: Outlands / Tir na Og
Ah, now the Pinnacle, the realm of Dunatis, the god of mountains. Now that’s a tale worth tellin’. Dunatis, he’s a real hermit of a god, and his realm is as harsh and unforgiving as it is awe-inspiring. Imagine a mountain so high it seems to scorn the horizon, its peak piercing the sky, reaching all the way into the Astral plane. The Pinnacle is no ordinary mountain cutter; it’s the embodiment of solitude and endurance. The slopes are in places near vertical, sheer cliffs of jagged rock and ice, as if the peak is defying the brave to conquer it.
At the very top, shrouded in cloud and mystery, lies the abode of Dunatis. It’s not a grand castle or a lavish palace, but a stark, simple broch made of dry-stones as old as time. It’s as rugged as Dunatis himself, enduring the howling winds and freezing temperatures. It’s said to be reachable only by those who have the favour of the mountain god or those who embody the spirit of the mountains themselves.
The environment of the Pinnacle is surreal. The way to the tower is fraught with trials, both physical and spiritual. Paths vanish and reappear, ledges crumble at a touch, and sudden storms of snow and ice challenge the resolve of any who dare the ascent. These trials are Dunatis’ way of testing the mettle of those who seek him, ensuring only the worthy reach his sanctum.
The air at the peak is thin, and the silence is so profound that it feels like there’s something unseen watching you. The skies around the peak are alive with auroras. They say you can peer right into the Astral from here, with githyanki fortresses and the distant corpses of dead gods looking like weird stars. In between these glimpses, silver ribbons weave magical patterns reflecting all the hues of the colour pools.
At night, the Pinnacle transforms. The snow and ice glow with an eerie light, casting an otherworldly radiance over the cliffs. Shadows play tricks on the eyes, and the wind carries dreams blown in from the Astral. If you’re lucky you might be able to spot the River of Souls as it winds its way in the distance.
The Weather Witches
Weird creatures dwell in the heights; like the Weather Witches of the Pinnacle—a curious and formidable lot, they are. Living in the shadow of Dunatis’ mountain, the witches of the Pinnacle aren’t your typical cauldron-stirring crones. They’re as much a part of the land as the rocks and the ice. Their magic is born from the essence of the realm, infused with the spirit of mountain. Being so close to the god of mountains, their sorcery is heavily influenced by the elements of earth and sky, and they possess an uncanny understanding of stone, wind, and frost. They harness the energy of the jagged peaks and the howling winds, summoning blizzards or causing the rocks to shift and move. Their magic is slow and subtle but as inexorable as the march of the seasons, like the carving of canyons by wind and water. Chant goes they are here with the blessing of Cailleach herself, and most importantly, to welcome the Veiled Woman when she rides out from Gehenna to the Outlands each springtime.
Living in such a harsh, isolated environment, these witches have adapted to the extreme conditions. Their bodies have been tempered by the cold and the altitude, their senses honed to perceive the subtlest shifts in the wind and the earth. It’s said that they can commune with the mountain god, and tap into deep, old magic—the kind that predates the pantheons and harks back to the formation of the planes. The witch Groamagh (planar ice genasi weather witch [she/her] / N) for example, is said to be able to transform into a gigantic snow eagle and fly with the storms, guiding them down from the mountain to where the rains are needed.
Their rituals involve the crags and munros of the Pinnacle, using them as conduits for their power. These peaks are more than rocks; they are reflections of Dunatis. The witches use them to focus their magic, to commune with the spirit of the mountain. It’s obvious from their name that the Weather Witches control the climate of Tir na Og, ensuring the sweet summers of the Bánóg and the cycle of seasons in the rest of the realm—out of step with the rest of weather of the Outlands. But the chant is persistent that these cutters are up to something far greater than that, perhaps even using their slow magic of the land to extend Tir na Og, shore it up against attacks from the Firbolg, or even to carve out an entirely new plane, just for the Celtic powers. Whatever it is, they’ve got time and patience on their side.
Canonical Source: On Hallowed Ground [2e] p70
Source: Jon Winter-Holt