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Frontier City

Praag, the Scarred City

Praag is the scarred northern city of Kislev, twice drowned by the hordes of Chaos and rebuilt upon its own haunted ruins, its walls forever warped by corruption.

Astrography

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

Praag is the scarred northern city of Kislev, the bleak realm of men that stands as the Old World's frozen shield against the hordes of the far north. No city has suffered as Praag has suffered, for it lies squarely in the path of every invasion that spills south out of the Chaos Wastes, and it has paid the price in horror again and again.

The city's darkest hour came during the Great War against Chaos, when it was besieged and overrun by a vast daemonic host. For a year the invaders held Praag, and the touch of Chaos warped it beyond all reason, melting stone and flesh together, fusing screaming faces into the walls and twisting its people into abominations before the city was at last liberated and the horror ended.

When the Kislevites rebuilt Praag, they did not tear down those cursed, corrupted walls, for the mutated stone had set as hard as adamant and could not be broken. And so the reborn city rose upon its own nightmarish ruins, its ramparts forever studded with half-living faces and frozen shapes, a grim monument to what was endured, mortared into the very fabric of the place. Newcomers are unnerved by the way the stones seem to watch them and by the faint moaning that rises from the battlements when the northern wind blows, but the city's own folk have long since ceased to notice, hardened to horrors that would break the spirit of any softer people.

Praag's people are grim, fatalistic, and unbreakably hardy, for they live each day in the shadow of an enemy that will assuredly come again, the Warriors of Chaos and worse. Guarded by winged lancers and ice-witches, the scarred city keeps its lonely vigil at the roof of the world, knowing that should Praag and Kislev ever fall, the whole of the south lies open to the ruinous powers of the north.