Over the Zoniz River, and far to the North, lies the vast and icy land of Krath. 

Krath is a land of hard, dry summers and ice-bound winters. Its denizens are a hardy lot who live harsh lives. 

In spring, the snows melt and the peasants emerge from their shelters to break the thin soil of their dachas. There they plant a crop of barley, beets and turnips. They goad those animals that have survived the winter into the fields to nibble on last year's stubble until the grass bursts forth in green profusion. They fell trees, dig peat and scratch iron and silver ores from shallow pit mines. They labour with a strange urgency, and watch like hawks for the first frosts; for when the frosts come, winter can only be a few short weeks away. 

When winter arrives, it grips the land like an iron vise. The peasants retreat to the ancient grey stone citadels and gather around sputtering fires in a chilled torpor. The snows pile up against the walls. Howling, nameless things stalk the ice-bound lands. Few live outside the walls in winter, and those that do are a breed apart.  

Wanderers of Krath