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The Old World

Frozen continent

Naggaroth

A frozen continent of black towers and cruel dominion, home to the exiled Dark Elves and their eternal, hate-fuelled Witch King.

Astrographic Chart

Altdorf, Capital of the EmpireAthel Loren, the Enchanted ForestAverheimBarak VarrBechafen, City of the MarshesCouronne, City of the GrailErengradHag Graef, the Dark CragHexoatl, City of the SunItzaKarak Azul, the Hold of IronKarak Eight PeaksKarak KadrinKaraz-a-Karak, the EverpeakKislev, the City of the Ice QueenLothernLustria, the Jungle ContinentMarienburgMiddenheim, the City of the White WolfMousillonNaggarondNaggaroth, the Land of ChillNehekhara, the Land of the DeadNuln, City of Iron and PowderParravon, City of the PeaksPraag, the Scarred CitySkavenblightSylvania, the Cursed ProvinceTalabheimTor Elyr, City of the LagoonsUlthuan, Isle of the High ElvesWolfenburgWurtbad, City of StirlandYvresse, the Misty IsleZhufbar, the Torrent GateZlatlan, the Fallen Temple-City

Chart of The Old World

Across the western ocean sprawls Naggaroth, the Land of Chill, a bleak and mountainous continent scourged by black blizzards and endless night. Here the Dark Elves built their dominion after their expulsion from Ulthuan, raising six mighty fortress-cities of cold obsidian in defiance of the wilderness. Chief among them is Naggarond, the Tower of Cold, seat of Malekith the Witch King, who has nursed his hatred for his sundered kin across thousands of years.

The Druchii are a people forged in cruelty and ambition. Their society is a knife's edge of intrigue, slavery, and sacrifice to the Cult of Khaine, the Lord of Murder, whose brides bathe in the blood of captives. From Naggaroth's black harbours the corsair fleets set forth to raid every coast of the world, dragging home holds full of slaves to feed the insatiable appetites of the cities.

Beyond the fortress-cities the land is a howling waste of frozen forests and haunted peaks, prowled by monsters and by the tribes of Beastmen that the Druchii hunt for sport. Naggaroth produces little of its own; it is a realm sustained by plunder and cruelty, a dark mirror of the beautiful homeland its people were driven from. Its every stone is a monument to spite, and its master will not rest until Ulthuan burns.