Above the Brokejaw range are the Nertmen, and their mist-choked forests of auld. These men of iron and fur stalk not the paths tread by those who are more often not, evidence of their passing fleeting and separated by great voids.
Tales of villages dissipating into nothing upon return visits are not the excuses of poor navigators - those who built them impart their nature upon them - the Vanishing People. To fight them is to find yourself swinging at nothing, fickle phantoms merging with the mists. To trade with them is to throw coins down a well - fantastical goods vanishing into nothing in the back of wagons. And so they are left to their mysterious devices in the mist.
Nertmen priests ambiguously link them to ancestors, winter, time and stone-working.