The Narrow Sea had always been full of surprises for travelers that would drift on its surface. Storms were not uncommon throughout the years, though they tend to be more placid than the pirates that would occasionally maraud the waters. Those who were fortunate enough to brave or avoid the weather or the reavers would have to face the dangers of the deep. Noise and the smell of blood always worked as beacons for sharks that yearned to taste human flesh, though they were minnows in comparison to the other, larger beasts that lurked in the abyss. Krakens and leviathans were huge, but there had been tales of something larger and more ancient. Rare sailors who survived the great depths told stories of a strange blue light that glowed and dimmed continuously in the darkest trenches. Anything in its wake would flee or hide with fear. Little was understood about the Narrow Sea and the things that dwelled within, but it would not take long for the known world to understand how massive things could be.
Naath was known far and wide for its tropical climate, palm trees, and abundance of colorful butterflies. The island's inhabitants, the Naathi, were peaceful people who fed exclusively on plant matters and were renowned for creating soothing music and smooth silk. However, their pacifist nature made them vulnerable to slavers and conquerors. But this does not mean that the Naathi were completely defenseless. The butterflies of Naath were revered because of the hazardous fever that they would carry and unleash upon those who seek to harm the island. The reason behind this phenomenon remained unclear. Some said the Naathi managed to build a form of immunity to the butterflies, while others believed that the butterflies were following commands. A lone survivor of Naath's would-be conquerors mumbled about ethereal chitters that came from the deep jungles of the island, which was immediately followed by swarms of the deadly butterflies fluttering around his army. No one knew for certain, but someone or something wanted to make sure that Naath could never be desecrated.
The Doom of Valyria was a cataclysmic event that destroyed one of the most advanced civilizations in the history of the known world. Countless men, women, children, and dragons were lost alongside their glorified freehold as the volcanoes of the Fourteen Fires swallowed them into the halls of history. Until today, there was never a concrete answer to the root of this catastrophe. Some said that the volcanic eruptions were natural, while others claimed that it was sparked by the abuse of sorcery. One less widespread theory asserted that some of the Valyrian miners stumbled upon an entity that was resting deep within one of the Fourteen Fires, and its furious arousal triggered the volcanoes to erupt and obliterate everything around them. When the Doom ceased, only seven of the Fourteen Fires stood above the Smoking Sea, and very few dared to voyage near the shattered peninsula, believing them to be haunted by ghosts of the Doom and the fiery demon that started it.
The Land of Always Winter was the most northern and isolated region of Westeros that acted as the dominion of the White Walkers and their army of countless wights. But following their extermination, the land grew less hostile, became easier to explore, and a tremendous discovery was made from the permafrost. Entombed deep in the ice was something substantially gargantuan, but its presence also created an unsettling ambiance. Humankind never knew anything like it, and some said that it should never exist in the known world. Faint heartbeats can be heard if ears were placed flat to the ice, and if its prison thawed, everyone should be prepared.