Notes

The Comans, the Norflungs and the Kishlates make up the main human races to populate the north. Each have their own distinct cultures and language, but in such a place, race is quick to be set aside, for the north is a harsh and callous place, and little can one find aid from its cold nature. In the west, on the coast just north of Galania, lie the treacherous Marshes of Dragarr. A dangerous place full of skulking monstrous aberrations, it is mostly avoided by men, but the Border Empire does lay claim to it.
The Border Empire itself is hardly a paradise, and definetly not an Empire. It is a lawless collection of bandit lords in endless bloody turmoil with each other; but the council meeting in the land's only gloomy city, Ravensberg, brings a halt to these wars under the advocation of the mysterious and powerful deity patron of Ravensberg, Zacharrian Erche'Biechere. But on days other than Lukansahtag, crime is the only way of survival, unless one belongs to the ranks of the travelling merchants granted a writ of safe passage by the Ravesnberg council.
And thus it could only be, for the only little patches of cultivable soil are located in the narrow strip of Greymoors in the middle of the realm and can by no means provide for all the people of this state. It is said the Barrow Heaths to the northeast could be made to farmland, true, but none has the gall to settle this accursed place.
The symbol of the Wild North is the great tundra, and what separates the Border Empire from it is the Dolewoods taiga. An endless, impermeable black wall of spruce sprawling hundreds of miles from the Barrow Heaths to the Marshes, it is home to the Dwarfholds of the Mot dwarves, a mysterious semi-nomadic race that settles down for the winter and follows the Tusker herds into the tundra in the summer.
Further north, but wasteland meets the eye and it grows ever colder. Finally, if one were to, by some miracle, survive such a trip, they could behold the great Dragonspine Mountains, a jagged row of black rocks that are known to breathe fire. Beyond them, the land is under a perennial lever of ice and snow.
However, the uninviting terrain of the Mountains also birthes life; for nestled betwixt two natural barriers of mountain lines, the lesser branches of Dragonspine, is the Military Area of the Church of Hope.
The protection from the algid icestorms and the somewhat warmer currents of the western coastline have allowed a band of humans to settle there; their only god is Hope, true and unwarped, and that has allowed them to prevail. Although ethincal differences have creeped into the hearts of these hardy folk, they yet remain true to their ancestors: of different races, a Coman, a Norflung and a Kislevite, who overcame their differences to survive.
So they live; the Norflungs mostly guardin the mountain passes in marches like Kalttand or Dösterberg of MACH against the onslaughts of the Thmurra, a race of apelike mountain dwellers that is bent on driving the humans out of their recluse; the Kislevites toiling on the more fertile soils of the deeper valleys - Letny, Veliki Zelen and Zlote Pole - to provide the population; and the Comans inhabiting the cities, the greatest of them Drakenburg.
Many have begun to argue that these folk have steered too far from the principles of the original Hope discovered by their forefathers and thus has begun a long road of languishing; but in the Hopeful way these folk are accustomed to, little heed is paid to that.