Nestled in a deep valley, sunlight has never caressed centuried Shroudhaven. Thick fog—rendered permanent by ancient magics—fills the valley. Here, refugees from a long-forgotten war found sanctuary from their enemies. Most villagers are undead, and a dark reputation hangs over the village. Visitors to the village, though, tell a different story. They speak of the undead battling their basest urges and trying to live peaceful lives.

Nestled in a twisting ravine amid the Luminous Desert’s endless windblown dunes, Rifthammer is home to a desert-dwelling tribe of dwarves. Hidden in the cool shadows of their cliff-side home, these reclusive folk offer peaceful seclusion for those seeking refuge from the desert's relentless heat, or simply the troubles of the wider world. However, not all is as idyllic as Rifthammer’s dwarven masters pretend, and a festering ruin of otherworldly creatures in the darkest recesses of the rift threatens all who reside above.

Ringed by a timber palisade, the village of Hjalward comprises wooden lodges and cabins built atop snow-covered hills in the shadow of ancient, giant-crafted architecture of a fallen elder kingdom. Looming over Hjalward like a tombstone, a crumbling stone wall fully 200 ft. high and 60 ft. thick and a yet higher sky-scraping tower remind the residents of this mining community of the follies of past civilisations, and that in time all empires crumble. Nearby deposits of iron, silver and lead draw desperate or avaricious miners to this cold, hard place while legends of lost giant treasure ensure a steady trickle of adventurers make the long, perilous journey to Hjalward.

A stone circle marks the confluence of ley lines in this bleak and broken place. Among the ancient runes and onyx pillars burn secret powers hidden by gods and men alike. But to the people of Y’taris, the stone circle is just a tourist destination for the rich. Every year, hundreds of spellcasters make the long pilgrimage to the stone circle high in the Broken Mountains. The villagers provide food, shelter, baubles and entertainment, all for exorbitant prices. Merchants bleed visitors of their gold, while pickpockets and scam artists take the rest. Y’taris is a nest of thieves. Anyone is welcome, until they run out of coin.

Five years ago, the bandits won. They overwhelmed the village of Hornwall, killed its citizens and looted their treasures. Then, they settled down. The bandits of Hornwall now reside within the very defences meant to keep them out. They have given up the sword and taken up the ploughshare, exchanging a life of danger for one of safety. The villagers hide their secret well, but bodies keep appearing—floating in on the current, dug up by dogs and even emerging from the thawing winter snows. And the citizens who wish to return to the old ways are murdered in their sleep by their loved ones and business owners who wish to keep the past dead and buried. If passing travellers learn the truth, they have a choice. Forgive and forget? Or avenge the uncaring dead and leave Hornwall nothing but ashes.

Wracked by disaster, Tigley is a village reborn. Standing on the fringes of the noisome Gnatmarsh, its folk make their living from the swamp and harvesting guano from the caves honeycombing the spire of rock upon which stands much of the village. But all is not peaceful in Tigley. The villagers’ burial rituals have attracted undead to certain nearby sunken ruins and goblins now lurk in the locality. In the village itself, influential figures vie for control of the local industries, a bully uses his influence to spread lies and cause trouble and the village priest hides a terrible secret. Once again, Tigley is a village teetering on the edge of disaster, but this time it is a disaster of the village’s own making.

Most dwarven holds are vast and ordered halls filled with solemn and stoic craftsfolk. But that’s not Feigrvidr. Some say it’s not a dwarf hold at all, but rather a lawless mining camp ruled by dwarf thugs and ruthless agents of the ruling thane. 

Founded less than three years ago by Svingal Halfbeard, the ore coming from a vale carved out of the headlands of the Titan Peaks is of the greatest purity and the works coming forth from Feigrvidr’s forges are both subtle and ingenious, rivalling those of any traditional dwarven stronghold. The great wealth coming from the foot of the Titan Peaks was only the beginning, now with the discovery of ancient and abandoned giant halls deeper among the mountains’ spires adventurers are flocking to the camp, increasing its wealth and its danger.

For centuries, the people of Aldwater have guarded and revered the wooden labyrinth holding the their ancestors' remains. Only the Spiritspeaker ever ventures inside, using an ancient relic to hold council with the dead. The wisdom of the council is vast, but not without fault, and for several years the advice of the ancestral spirits has done nothing to halt Aldwater's increasing plight. Each season, the fishermen and trappers bring back a little less, and the children grow up a little hungrier.

In the dreary village of Fulhurst Moors, most residents spend their days cutting peat from the nearby bogs or tending flocks of rugged sheep on the moor. When night falls, the villagers huddle in their homes or gather inside the solid stone walls of the Bell and Whistles. Here they trade stories of the latest gruesome misfortunes to befall those foolish enough to venture out onto the moor after sunset or unfortunate enough to be caught by sudden fog or rain while working in the bogs.

The local priest has been driven close to madness by his inability to provide solace to his congregation, and the mayor and constable become increasingly concerned as a growing number of villagers drown their fears in moonshine whiskey. The fearful atmosphere is well deserved, for ancient beings of malice and cruelty haunt the mists beyond the village. And they have struck a terrible bargain with someone inside Fulhurst Moors.

A thriving village is the last thing a traveller expects to find on a cracked and blasted volcanic plain belching lava and poisonous gases. However, Vulcanbridge defies expectations and offers a haven for wayward souls and desperate travellers alike. Primarily home to dwarven and gnomish engineers and miners, the village also attracts adventurers and greedy merchants keen to turn a healthy profit. The village relies on trading valuable metals and gemstones harvested from its surrounds for necessities, and this influx of wealth has also attracted the wrong kind of attention. Vulcanbridge seems like a tempting target to raiders who see an isolated village endowed with treasure. This threat adds to the dangers posed by the environment itself and the fiery creatures dwelling in the magmatic caverns beneath the plain. Then there are the dark rumours the deep-dwelling owner of all the treasure harvested by the villagers has awoken and intends to take it all back...

On what was once the lonely crossroads of two rarely used roads sits the village of Lady Cross, a tight community of stone houses surrounded by a high stone wall. Now a popular rest stop for travellers and merchants alike, Lady Cross is known for the heady spirits distilled in the village and sold at the local inn, The Lady’s Rest. Unknown to most, it is a different type of spirit the villagers fear—a sinister secret wreathed in foul treachery and hysteria that speaks to the darkness and greedy lurking in men’s souls.

Gloya’s Bridge is a village swathed in secrets. Wearing masks and veils in the streets is normal, giving a chance at unparalleled anonymity and the freedom to indulge in a variety of entertainments with minimal restrictions. Those who want a second chance flock here, in no small part because an unconventional order offers a chance for criminals to leave their pasts behind and be recognised as reformed. Yet, not everyone has the will to reform or the patience to prove it, and the work of the Merciful Order is not enough for all the foes dogging some troubled souls. The offer of a new life for anyone is an important promise to many in Gloya’s Bridge, but the richest patriarch has designs on a new, firmer order. And deep below the surface, a conspiracy threatens to dim or even extinguish this beacon of hope as it gathers the hidden secrets of dangerous and troubled people who have come here from across the region.