Far to the south, past the great deserts, lay the vast mountain ranges the dwarves claim as their homeland. The highest reaches of these ranges are the Voc-Khal peaks. The great heights of these mountains are constantly battered with cold winds, and their stoic caps are frequently covered with snow.

However these inhospitable mountains are also dotted with several volcanos. These turbulent cracks in the surface of the world disgorge molten earth in a constant flow. Legend speaks of the great demon war. Envious of the grand world created by the gods for man, demons broke through the underworld, clawing their way to the surface. They emerged from the planes of beyond though these pocks of lava and fire.

The dwarves claim that to this day, the metal forged from these molten rivers still carry magic of demons and the outer worlds. The blades carry the keenest edge and armor possess the greatest resiliency. They covet the rich veins that border the steams and rivers of flowing lava. Hence, many noble families try to gain greater stature and establish a stronghold within the Vok-Khal peaks.

Such grand endeavors rarely last however. The fiery lands are rife with elemental creatures, twisted forms infused with the mystical energies that flow through the magma streams. They make infrequent raids on any keeps the industrious dwarves carve out of the mountains. It is as if they are driven by an impulse to crush any form of civilization in the peaks, and tear down any erected walls.

It is not only elemental creatures that prowl the Vok-Khal peaks, but also the cruel duergar. They are known to invade and retain holds created by dwarves. Many a dwarven family have sought to reclaim lost keeps from their evil distant kin. However, some dwarves claim that further in the depths of the fiery peaks are vast duergar cities. They had scavenged the cavernous ruins created by the old demons and made them home, further refining the rough hewn tunnels to crafted halls and deviously ingenious forges.

Although dwarven families will rarely admit this due to pride, their numbers are declining. Some still are driven to reclaim lost family holds, and reclaim past glories. This is such a strong desire, they reluctantly will hire out adventurers willing to join them in expeditions to claim lost houses. More more unscrupulous merchants are willing to aid in these risky ventures offering mercenaries. All done in hopes to secure the rights to transport any fine metalworks the dwarves create in these reclaimed holds and forges.

Others state that duergar strongholds deep within the mountains are not just rumors. These wickedly crafty humanoids have established grand forges and intricate fortresses. They covet the mystical ore as much as the dwarves, and create fine metalworks that rival their distant cousins (a claim best spoken out of earshot of any dwarf if one seeks to retain all their teeth). Such rumors are more than enough to inspire those adventurers brave enough to make the treacherous journey to the distant Voc-Khal peaks.

Beyond the vast mountains to the east lie many mysterious and relatively unexplored lands. To the south east of the great continent is likely one of the most enigmatic, and tragic, of locales. Kymoria was once known for its fine horsemen and open plains. Infrequent caravans that managed to traverse the great mountains would bring forth pungent spices and fine silks as part of the exotic wares commonly found in this land.

Well over a century the dreaded necromancer, Al’Khameed, rose to power in this nation. Kymoria was always a loose confederacy of princes and Al’Khameed was rumored to have easily twisted the minds of some princes to his will. The remainder that were willing to fight him brought the country to its knees in a bloody civil war.

Tales say that it was at this time Al’Khameed had discovered a long lost ritual. A ritual of such immense power he was able to bring life back to the bodies of the dead. The ritual sapped life from the very land itself and soon he commanded a massive army of walking corpses. So great was his power, so foul were the magics he wielded, that the very ground wilted and died.

Ulaam of the One Eye saw the threat of Al’Khameed and offered his great arcane skills to the neighboring kingdoms that were threatened by the ever growing undead armies at their borders. While some sing of his praises, other more learned historians claim that Ulaam acted simply out of desire to obtain such a powerful ritual himself. Regardless of his motives, Ulaam of the One Eye accompanied a large force of horsemen to strike deep within the dead land.

None lived to tell the tale of that great battle that erupted as the two armies met. Great booming thunderclaps were heard and arcs of lightning and fire erupted from the horizon. What followed was a creeping mist that blotted out the very sun over Kymoria. A wet mist so unnatural, that to this day it still keeps the blackened land shrouded from sunlight.

Ulaam of the One Eye limped out from the damp veil of mist, claiming that Al’Khameed was defeated. Further legends speak of Al’Khameed fleeing further south to the desert wastes, his great army reduced to a meager war band. His every step was hounded by men-at-arms from wronged noblehouses, pursued like a wounded animal from kingdom to kingdom. It was only in the desert wastes he could find a final refuge, where the harsh dunes provided him respite from pursuit.

Kymoria itself withered under the relentless mists that clouded its once fair hills and rolling grass plains. Although the great armies of undead were destroyed, it is said that the land is still infused with necromatic magic. Occasionally scattered lowly undead will shamble from the edges of the mist to terrorize neighboring villages. Undead animals are also not an uncommon sight.

There are still some small fiefdoms within the mists of Kymoria. They are a shadow of their former glory as some stout-hearted folk still try and carve a life from this veiled place. Some whisper even darker tales of lords actually being vampires, as ever-clouded skies give them respite from the sun. The villagers and peasants are simply slaves to their malevolent overlords.

This does not daunt some merchants willing to travel to remote towns within the deep mists, ever trying to discover some prosperous trade route. Such caravans are always seeking men of the sword willing to guard such tenuous ventures.

There are also a wealth of ruins to pillage and explore. Some of the greater cities have been abandoned, or at best only a sliver of the former population still call these doomed places home. Many adventurers have been willing to brave these dark lands and explore the crumbling remains of towns and cities within Kymoria.