midst the blowing snow, strange visions are not uncommon. Strange sights that are not mere visions aren't terribly uncommon, either. Many an explorer has returned to the relative civilization of an outpost with tales of uncanny ice sculptures in the middle of nowhere, or a totem pole made entirely of snow that changed expression with every visit. Less noteworthy but equally inexplicable is High Tor.
A simple spire of ice-encrusted rock, thrust up from a field strewn with rubble under the ever-present snow, no one gives it much thought. But an astute scholar noticed one day that the oldest map in the Keep's library (found in the book, "Samplings of Cave Paintings From Around the World, With Special Emphasis on Water Symbols") depicted a whole city grown up around what looked like High Tor. It had a distinctive pattern of feldspar and olivine that looked suspiciously like the pattern drawn on the cave painting. An expedition was mounted, and much valuable historical information came from the excavation. It was not until much later that a student thought to wonder -why hadn't High Tor weathered away completely? Several thousand years had passed since the cave painting was created, but the landmark Tor reached the same height in the sky. How could that be?
No one knows.