Far to the east rise the Mountains of Mourn, a titanic range of jagged summits and windswept plateaus greater in scale than any in the western world. Their peaks claw at a merciless sky, their valleys are gouged by ancient cataclysm, and at their heart lies the great wound of the Maw, from which, so the ogres believe, their hungering god watches over them.
These brutal heights are the homeland of the Ogre Kingdoms, sprawling tribes of towering brutes bound together by strength, appetite, and reverence for the Great Maw. In their crude mountain camps and along the high passes they raise their young to fight and feast, for in a land this harsh only the mighty endure and the weak are simply eaten. Their bull-hordes descend from the peaks to raid, to sell their strength as mercenaries, or to migrate in vast and hungry columns across the world.
The Mountains of Mourn spare nothing. Rockslides and blizzards claim the careless, and the peaks harbour beasts as monstrous as the ogres themselves, alongside the roaming Rhinoxen and stranger horrors of the far east. It is a land that breeds giants and swallows the frail, a place where survival is measured by the size of one's appetite and the strength to satisfy it.