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.