In fantasy, frozen world, where the sky touches the earth and the sunrarely dares to rise, there stands a shipyard–fortress. Built atthe northernmost edge of the world, hidden amidst ice and blizzards,it seems as though nature itself wished to conceal it from mortaleyes. Its walls, dark and frozen, glisten under the moonlight, whilethe ceaseless snow covers every stone and corner.

The fearsome faction of Hydra has forged it withiceand green iron, raising it in her name.
Legend whispers thathere skeletons are resurrected, bound by ancient spells and forgedinto disciplined soldiers, becoming an unstoppable army of theundead. From this frozen stronghold their power spreads, casting itsshadow across the seas.

A low, grim tower hides within its depths a prison from which nosoul has ever escaped. At its peak, a double bow–weapon standsready for any intruder.

Carved deep into the rocks lies a storeroom, sheltering timber,supplies, and provisions. Hidden in its depths is a secret passagethat leads to a small, concealed pier. There, amidst the mist and thefalling snow, lies the breath of the faction: the ships that slipsilently into the frozen waters.

At the heart of the fortress rises the central hall. Below reststhe throne room, built of stone and silence, adorned with the symbolsof Hydra. Above, the warlock’s workshop stretches across thefloor — a chamber shrouded in smoke and shadows, where the art ofresurrection is practiced without end.

Higher still, the third and tallest tower looms like a guardian ofthe horizon. Within, ammunition is stored and the mechanism forraising and lowering the boats is kept. At its summit stands acolossal ballista, like an iron god, built to pierce even themightiest of sea monsters.

A massive crane, mounted on iron rails, turns with precision andstrength. It moves as though alive, lifting high to repair whateverdamage befalls the ships. Under its shadow, no vessel is lefthelpless.

In the courtyard’s center lies the stone-carved seal of Hydra. Covered in layers of snow and etched with detail, itserves as an ancient oath of protection, a sacred talisman guardingthe castle from ruin.

Supplies and munitions arrive by a small cart that strugglesacross snowbound paths and desolate towns, feeding the fortress withwhat it needs. And there, beside the pier, always ready, waits agraceful and peculiar ship — the vessel of expeditions, destined tochart unknown worlds, to set sail for treasures and secrets thatawait discovery.