Map A.04 - Kara Sea

Arctic region reaching from 82.34°N south to 72.51°N. A frozen sea and continental enclave in the extreme north of Asia. The region is occupied by the Samoyeds, a gnoll people who are progenitors to the gnolls of Bjarmaland, west of the Ural Mountains. A lightly used trade route rounds the Yamal Peninsula from the west, advantaging the passages the Ob and Yenisey rivers offer into the heart of Siberia. The gnoll settlement of Dik'Don is the most northern market place in the world. The lands of Biyetia and Jotunheim verge on the map's western edge.

Hexes are 20 miles in diameter. Total area depicted equals 366,450 sq.m.

Physical Features

The lands here bend in a great, uneven ring around the Kara Sea, a country of slow rivers and frozen marsh, of hills that hold the cold and plains that stretch unbroken to the horizon, shaped by seasons that never fully loosen their grip.

Byranga Plateau

Byranga Plateau

This stretches across the northern reaches of Samoyadia, a vast and desolate expanse where the land rises into a broken maze of windswept ridges and barren plateaus. The earth here is hard and unyielding, covered in patches of rough grass, lichen and low shrubs that cling stubbornly to the rocky soil. In the brief summer, the hills soften with green moss and tangled roots, but for most of the year, they are locked beneath ice and snow, swept by relentless winds that roll in from the northern seas.

The rivers that cut through these highlands are shallow and swift, carving narrow channels through the stone, their waters dark and cold even in the heart of summer. They twist and vanish beneath the ice when winter grips the land, leaving only the sound of the wind to break the silence. Pools gather in the low places, where the ground, frozen beneath, turns soft and treacherous, swallowing hoof and foot alike in wet, shifting mire. Few people travel these highlands, and fewer still make their home here. The land is too poor for farming, and the cold lingers too long for most creatures to thrive. Those who pass through know the dangers well — the sudden storms, the hidden ravines, the beasts that wander the slopes, lean and hungry.

North Siberian Lowland

Here, the land stretches wide and empty, flattening into a vast and desolate expanse. The ground is low and uneven, marked by shallow depressions filled with standing water, frozen for much of the year but turning to thick, clinging mud in the brief summer. The rivers that cross this land flow sluggishly, their banks crumbling where the permafrost melts, carving new channels as the earth gives way beneath them. The trees grow thin and stunted, their twisted limbs black against the pale sky. In some places, the ground is too poor even for these, and nothing grows but coarse grass, moss and creeping lichen. The land is riddled with bogs and pools that never fully dry, their surfaces covered with a skin of floating vegetation that quakes underfoot. In the winter, these fill with drifting snow, hiding their dangers beneath a frozen crust that shatters at a single misstep.

The sky above this plain is vast and unbroken, stretching in every direction with nothing to catch the wind. The air is thick with the damp chill of the land, carrying the scent of wet earth and decay where the ice has pulled back, exposing the ground beneath. The rivers run black and cold, and in the spring, when the thaw begins, they rise and break their banks, turning the plain into a wide, shallow sea where land and water become one. For most of the year, the cold rules here. Ice grips the rivers, frost crusts the ground and the wind sweeps unbroken across the land. When summer does come, it arrives suddenly, melting the ice in a matter of weeks, turning the hard ground into sucking mud, waking clouds of biting insects that fill the air with their constant hum.

Gyda Peninsula

East of the Yavey Peninsula, the Gyda juts out between the great northern seas, a land of sweeping tundra, endless winds and a sky that seems to stretch wider than anywhere else. It is a cold and desolate country, where the ground lies frozen for most of the year and only the hardiest life can endure. The land is low and rolling, broken by shallow river valleys and wide, open plains. Lakes and bogs dot the surface, trapped beneath ice through the long winter, thawing only briefly in the summer when the land softens into a patchwork of wet earth and standing water.

The rivers here are slow and meandering, winding through the lowlands in wide, lazy bends. In the spring, when the ice breaks, they swell and spill over their banks, turning large stretches of the land into a temporary marsh. When the waters recede, they leave behind a landscape carved and reshaped by the force of the flood, its channels shifting with each passing year. Unlike the highlands to the east, the Gyda Peninsula lacks sheltering hills or ridges. The wind moves unchecked, sweeping across the tundra in great, rolling gusts that carry with them the cold of the northern seas. Snow drifts endlessly, piling in hollows and against the banks of frozen rivers, shifting with the seasons but never truly disappearing. The summer is brief, barely enough time for the land to turn green before the frost returns, bringing the long, dark months of winter once again.

Islands of Buyan

These rise from the northern seas, a scattered chain of wind-lashed tundra, ice-clad shores and barren rock. The land is hard and broken, its soil thin, its rivers sluggish and choked with ice for most of the year. In summer, the low hills and flat expanses bloom briefly with moss and hardy grasses before the frost returns. The seas around the islands are cold and restless, shifting with ice and storm, treacherous to all but those who know their ways.

According to legend, the Buyan Islands are able to appear and disappear. Three brothers, demi-gods of the northern, western and eastern winds, dwell here. The three largest islands, Bolshe, Nauk and Oktyab, are named for them. The Zoryas, solar demi-goddesses who are the daughters of the solar god Dazhbog, also dwell here.

Hydrographic Features

Kara Sea

This is a shallow, marginal sea in the Arctic, covered in ice for most of the year. It is bordered by a series of peninsulas and islands that shape its irregular coastline, forming bays, inlets and estuaries where rivers empty into its waters. The seabed consists mostly of silt, sand and glacial debris, left behind by the slow advance and retreat of ice sheets over millennia. Travel is difficult and hazardous, the Kara is not beyond reach. In certain years, when the summer thaw is particularly strong, whalers from the north have been known to push into its waters, following open leads between drifting ice floes in search of bowhead and other cold-water whales. These ventures are rare and unpredictable, as conditions change rapidly, and what appears to be a navigable path one week may be choked with ice the next.

During winter, the entire sea freezes, with pack ice stretching from shore to shore. In the summer months, sections of ice break apart, forming floating floes that drift with the weak currents and prevailing winds. The ice does not melt entirely, and navigation remains difficult, as shifting floes can trap or damage vessels. The water is cold year-round, with only a brief seasonal thaw in the southern reaches where river outflows create brackish zones. The rivers that drain into the sea bring large amounts of sediment, especially in the warmer months, causing the coastal waters to be muddy and turbid. Tidal movement is weak, largely overshadowed by wind-driven surface currents, which push the ice and influence local water flow more than lunar forces.

Despite these perils, the whalers know that the cold waters shelter rich hunting grounds. The whales that move through the ice are slow and heavily blubbered, well-adapted to the frigid conditions. They often gather near the open leads where water remains unfrozen longest, making them vulnerable to harpoons. Those fortunate enough to make a successful hunt must work quickly, stripping the blubber before the weather turns or the ice shifts once more. For most sailors, the Kara Sea is a place best avoided, a trap that swallows ships without warning. But for those willing to risk it, the rewards — if they survive — are great.

Pyasin Gulf

This broad, shallow inlet lies where the great rivers of the tundra empty into the sea. Its coastline is irregular, shaped by the slow movement of water and ice, with long, low spits of land stretching out into the bay, forming sheltered estuaries and shifting sandbanks. These river mouths pour a steady flow of dark, silt-laden water into the gulf, staining the shallows with mud and sediment that never fully settles. In the summer thaw, the melt swells the currents, carrying debris from the interior and expanding the reach of brackish water far into the open sea. The land around the gulf is low and flat, with sparse grasses and stunted shrubs taking hold where the ground is stable enough to support them. Much of the coastline is lined with marsh and bog, where the cold earth never fully dries, forming a soft, shifting landscape of peat and standing water. In the short warmth of summer, these wetlands teem with life — birds gather in great numbers, feeding in the shallows, while fish move upriver to spawn in the fresher waters beyond the brackish tide.

For most of the year, the gulf is locked in ice. The freeze extends beyond the coastline, binding the river mouths and pushing thick sheets of ice out into the open sea. In winter, the landscape is silent, the wind cutting across the frozen flats, broken only by the shifting and cracking of ice against itself. When the thaw begins, the rivers force their way through, breaking apart the frozen shell and carrying jagged floes out into the deeper waters, where they drift until they melt or become trapped again when the cold returns. Travel across the gulf is treacherous. The shallows are unpredictable, shifting with the tides and the push of river silt. Where ice still lingers in summer, it floats in scattered pieces, too broken to be a solid path yet dense enough to make navigation slow and difficult. Even in warm years, the water remains frigid, and storms can roll in with little warning, stirring the surface into a churning mass of gray waves and drifting ice. The Pyasina Gulf is a place of transition — where river meets sea, where ice meets open water, and where the land itself seems to shift and change with each passing season.

Samoyadia

A vast and rugged land, home to the gnoll people who have ruled its frozen tundra and highland plateaus for generations. Situated in the farthest reaches of the north, it is a realm where the seasons dictate the rhythm of life, with winters of relentless cold yielding only briefly to the short, chill-dampened summers. The land itself is harsh and often unforgiving, dominated by rolling tundra, frozen rivers and the isolated ridges of the Byranga Highlands, where even the hardiest creatures struggle to survive. Gnoll clans scatter across the land in migratory bands that follow the great reindeer herds as they move between winter and summer pastures. In the south, along the river valleys and sheltered woodlands, bugbear clans can be found, their numbers smaller but their presence long established. Further northwest, beyond the barren uplands of the Byranga, grimlocks dwell in scattered numbers, their settlements hidden within the rocky passes where the sunlight never fully reaches

The land is rich in fauna, its wilderness supporting vast herds of reindeer that form the foundation of the kingdom's nomadic way of life. Wolves, polar bears and ermine stalk the tundra and ice-bound coasts, while the sky fills with the calls of migratory birds in the brief summer. The gnolls of Samoyadia have long practiced transhumance, moving with the herds, setting temporary settlements along well-worn paths between the grazing lands of the Byranga Plateau and the more sheltered southern river valleys.

Despite its isolation, Samoyadia is not entirely without commerce. Dik-don, perched along the edge of the northern waters, serves as the kingdom's most important port of call and a vital market for trade between inland hunters, nomads and those who dare to navigate the treacherous northern sea. The Taymyr River, cutting through the heart of the land, is a source of gold and sulfur, its banks offering deposits that attract both laborers and opportunists alike.

Adjacent Maps

A3: Jotunheim	A4: Kara Sea	A5: Yukaghir Sea
B4: Ob Gulf	B5: Lower Yenisey	B6: Tunguska

See Sheet Maps