"The Husk" Terminal of Jormara 25x35

Its the first map of a futur series depicting the far north region of my world. Perfect for a starting point in a new adventure around frozen lands and ice pack

great setup to start a new campaign after a trip on the sea, the husk is designed to act as temporary settling point before the proper expedition launch, its the perfect moment to aclimmate the player to the rude conditions of the weather and the ambiant cold as well to meet important character and lore keypoint.

In the north of Jormerun... in fact in the north at all, at the antipodes of all civilization, at the end of the world, you'll find the Jormara ice pack. A wild, inhospitable desert of ice. An expanse of shifting, all-consuming, ever-changing pack ice. Instead of fine sand dunes, you'll find titanic icebergs frozen in time or floating in deathly calm along the shores of this sea of ice.

In this labyrinth of frozen teeth and fangs, you'll sometimes catch a glimpse of great black columns silhouetted against the blizzard. These gigantic peaks of basalt rock are Jormara's only fixed points, the summits of lost mountains. Dating back to a time when civilizations and men still slept the benevolent sleep that preceded their birth. The banished gods is the name given by the few inhabitants of this white hell to the mountains that rip through the depths of this frozen ocean.

If your eyes see one of these black towers emerge, after weeks of travel in the blind blizzard, you'll be able to contemplate the flickering, fragile glow of hundreds of torches on all sides of the peak, staking out the body and entrails of the rock. If you get any closer, you'll be able to hear the song of these gods, a symphony of clatters and sharp blows. The pickaxes of dozens of miners echoing in the wind.

That's why there's life here, barely surviving, eating the snow and chasing all forms of heat so as not to die out. The treasure of the dead gods, the heritage of an entire people, glory and wealth for deserters and adventurers. Mithril.

Veins of mithril almost outcropping! Mines so abundant and rich that sometimes you only have to stoop to pick it up. This is the honey that attracts bees of all races and all countries to this great chase: the mithril hunt of the Jormara ice floe.

That's where you set off, hoping with all your soul not to end up like all those pioneers, frozen for eternity on their knees in the middle of nothing, frozen with their hope and their life's fortune packed in their bag.

After two months by boat, you arrive at the furthest point from inhabited land. Zigzagging between icebergs that have become mountains, you can't go any further. You're at the gates of Jormara, one of the departure camps for the Great Devourer.

Welcome to the Husk, home to 3 and a half people and a few sled dogs.
On the menu for the year: fish in fish fat, all cooked in melted ice.

It's best to book your bed in advance if you don't want to brave the polar night and enrich the next day's ordinary.
Make the most of the fire fed by the remains of ships that weren't lucky enough to arrive, like yours, in one piece.

As you watch your nave sail away into the dawn, you'll realize that you are now a resident of Jormara. Your wealth, perhaps, your prison, surely, and your grave, no doubt.

-Sileas Kel Pionner of Jormara

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