On the north-eastern edge of Mycorzha lies the White Plateau, a windswept stretch of highland where nothing grows. The White Plateau is desolate. The land is rocky, dry, and exposed to the full force of the mountain winds. The only way to survive is to build into the rocks or travel further into the highlands. It is here that the Banished are sent. On the southern-most edge of the plateau is a walled encampment, rough and pragmatic, where most Banished try to live using community to survive the wastes.

Mycorzha does not believe in cages. To lock away a creature is seen as a denial of their dignity and a harm to the whole. Instead, when a creature cannot or will not live in harmony with their community and the land, they are banished to the north. This is not an act of cruelty, but one of ritual separation. The belief is simple: a creature who has broken the bonds of the Isles must now learn to survive outside them. As such trade with the Banished is forbidden.

Banishment is not declared lightly. It must be agreed upon by both the local community and the Temple of the Isles, which serves as the moral and spiritual compass of Mycorzhan life. The process is not written in stone. There are no strict rules, no fixed thresholds. It is a matter of collective feeling, when enough creatures believe a neighbor has gone too far.

The reasons vary. Some are small at first: failing to replant after foraging, littering the riverbeds with broken tools, taking more than one’s share during a drought. Communities try to help first. They hold conversations, offer guidance, even host communal meals where the offender is asked to explain themselves. But when a creature ignores these efforts or escalates into something worse—like Caliban the snake, who stole eggs from poor nesting birds—they may face banishment.

No one remembers who the first Banished were, or what act made the Plateau the designated place. It is simply how things are. The tradition has gone unquestioned for so long that it’s taken as truth. A creature can be un-banished, though it is rare. The same process that sent them away must agree to bring them home: both community and Temple must believe the creature has changed. But since few ever return from the north, fewer still by choice, most remain there for life.

The Banished encampment is not maintained by Mycorzha. There are no rules, no guards, no guarantees. While most new arrivals are taken in, there are cases where the encampment refuses entry. These creatures, unwanted even by the Banished, are forced to wander north into even more hostile terrain, in hopes of finding shelter, water, or a better fate. Most do not survive. Inside the encampment, life is precarious. Food is scarce. Warmth is even scarcer. Ice fishing, when the pond isn’t frozen through, provides a meager supply. Tools are cobbled together from scrap. Shelters are dug into rock or built from wind-worn wood. The Banished cooperate when they must, but trust is rare. Hunger keeps most alliances practical. Violence, though discouraged, is not uncommon.

Still, life continues.

Some Banished form bonds, friendships, even families. Love is not forbidden on the Plateau, though it is tempered by hardship. When children are born to Banished parents, a difficult decision must often be made. The Plateau offers no future for the young. Most families choose to surrender their children to the Temple of the Mysts, which oversees their care and discreetly arranges for them to be adopted into homes across the Isles. These children are not marked or named as Banished. Their origins are quietly forgotten. The Temple believes that no child should carry the weight of their parents’ exile.

Despite the grim conditions, the White Plateau is not without value. Beyond its empty surface lies Frostfire Forest, a remote and dangerous zone of snow-glazed trees and bioluminescent fungi. Even deeper are glacier paths and half-buried ruins from ages past. These places are deadly, but they are filled with things the south cannot easily get: rare herbs that only grow in the ice, glowing mushrooms, crystalline sap, and strange materials not found anywhere else in the Isles.

These treasures sparked the quiet formation of a black market. Southern critters, hungry for profit, began trading food and supplies for northern goods—illegally. Trade with the Banished is forbidden. To break this rule is to risk banishment yourself.

Because of this, black market trade is hidden. Deals are struck in secret. Some traders use hidden passages in the Shadow Moss Caves, whose many tunnels are perfect for smuggling. Others pass through lesser-known fishing routes or rely on family in the protected Mossy Cup Lagoon, whose tangled terrain hides movement well. The goods are hidden in barrels, bundled with legal items, or disguised as temple offerings.

But the trade is dangerous in more ways than one. The Banished are not always honest, and many are desperate. Deals can go sour. Theft and betrayal are common. There are no enforcers or protectors in this system, only cunning, secrecy, and luck. Some traders never return. To operate in the black market, a critter must be clever enough to hide their dealings, hard enough to survive the risks, and morally flexible enough to justify it all. But most of all, they must be lucky.