Between the homomorphic Chat Hills and the Needlelands lies the Plain of Sociable Holes.
THE CHAT HILLS
The warm mumbling wind emanating from the Sociable Holes seems always to be on the edge of speech. Over time it erodes stone strangely, into the form of faces so the chat hills which border on the plain look like odd-expressioned sculptures speaking of the unknown, leaning for a moment of time in which to gather breath.
Few populate the hills; lunatics, the oppressed or escapees. Or pilgrims come to search their faces for some sign, to seek out phrases in the mumbling wind, or pass on to the Needleands to hunt for rare Urchin spines.
The distaff tribes promise passage over the dangerous plain to the Needlelands where the Uber-urchins roam. They glide via soporific condors made tameable by the warm winds, for food they hunt the KNABSKRATTLERS of the plain.
These people worship storms for they say the noise of them banishes the white-noise-spectres of the plain, though whether such creatures are real or merely rumour non can say. The gliding clans have legends of the holes themselves, of a mythical "city of the holes found within". Of course you should never actually look down.
The plain itself is stretched tight like skin on fat flesh. A cracked desert of indifference, about which no opinions are held. Only the KNABSKRATTLERS can move freely across it; parasites on the perhaps near-infinite holes which only they seem able to enter and leave at-will.
At times the KNABSKRATTLERS seem barely intelligent, like witless beasts, though at others they exhibit a crowlike scavenging and thief-wise knack to their actions. The threat of food and equipment stolen by KNABSKRATTLERS in the night is just another danger of the plain, though any fool passing on the plain at night probably deserves their fate.
THE SOCIABLE HOLES
The holes themselves seem to be sinkholes. From them comes the warm mumbling wind which rises up and rolls over the plain, and, some suggest, occasional waves of chaotic magic.
Their sides are steep and vertical. There are no reports of whatever lies within. Going down a hole is a one-way trip. Apart from the KNABSKRATTLERS.
The holes seem to be sociable. They move across the plain at something close to walking speed, meeting and combining with each other, then splitting apart due to some abyssal factionalism. They follow people and especially groups. In darkness they speed up.
The holes "bounce" off the strong inclines of the Chat Hills and Needlelands, which thankfully keeps them penned on the plain.
Are they tendrils of some meta-hole beneath the plain? Portals to some fresh dimension? Do they truly have personalities, as some mad wanderers have claimed? Are they alive?
Beyond the plain lies the shrieking trees of the spike-leaved needlelands,a nail forest hunted by prickling predators disguised against the shards of form. Somewhere even more dangerous than the Plain of Sociable Holes itself.
But only here are the Uber-Urchins found, and a single one of their imperishably sharp spikes can make a fortune for anyone lucky enough to hunt it without being impaled and forgotten.