Slurphurdle mountain is the only mostly solid site for big yorts. It looms like a heap of oily bird dung against the horizon, sitting in a circular clearing between the giant trees. The slimy black rocks of the hillside stretch up into the air at a floppy, rolling angle until it reaches the peak, which leans crazily off at an angle like the last dollop of rock froze in mid splort. The lower foothills of the mountain are covered with rubble and collapsed building from the palace, and are made from semi-solid chunks of clotted slime. These places can be a dangerous but profitable place to scavenge for all kinds of trinket. Not a day goes by without some boat skimming out to the clotted hills, only for the unlucky treasure hunter to fall thorough a weak spot, or the island break off whe