Icebound Shores

The Icebound Shores stretch along the northern edge of the world, where the land surrenders to an endless expanse of ice-choked waters and frozen tundra. The winds howl through the barren landscape, carrying the scent of salt and death, while shifting ice flows grind against the rocky coastline. Here, where few dare to tread, survival is a merciless contest against the cold, the hunger, and the ever-present spectre of the unknown.

The tundra is home to the Chuchuna, a fearsome breed of nomadic Orcs who have adapted to the relentless cold through generations of endurance and brutality. Towering figures draped in thick pelts, their ashen-grey skin and streaked hair blend seamlessly with the icy landscape, making them ghostly predators of the north. The Chuchuna are highly mobile, constantly shifting between frozen caves, makeshift encampments, and the husks of abandoned settlements. Their society is fluid, bound together by strength and necessity, where leadership is earned through dominance, and loyalty lasts only as long as power is maintained.

Though the Chuchuna share an eerie camaraderie among their own, outsiders are seen as nothing more than prey. Their reputation as cannibals is no mere myth; they hunt not only for game but for those unfortunate enough to wander into their grasp. Lone travellers, shipwrecked sailors, and even rival Orcish clans whisper of the Chuchuna’s cold, calculating hunts. Those who fall into their hands are seldom given the mercy of a quick death.

The tundra is harsh, but the coast is no less treacherous. The frozen sea is a realm of shifting icebergs and deep, unknowable waters where great beasts lurk beneath the surface. The grinding sheets of ice make navigation a deadly gamble, yet desperate travellers still attempt the journey, lured by whispered rumours of ancient ruins, buried wealth, and hidden paths that cut through the heart of the wilderness. Some believe the Chuchuna know these secrets well, using them to ambush those who seek passage through their lands.

Despite the bleakness, there is a stark beauty to the Icebound Shores—the way the auroras dance over the endless snowfields, the haunting calls of distant predators, and the stillness of a world untouched by time. But beauty is no shield against the elements, nor against the silent figures who prowl the tundra’s edge, watching, waiting, ever hungry.