“Where laughter is armor, and courage the last ale.”
Nestled in green valleys and mead-scented halls, Caterinhold is a realm of broad-hearted knights and enduring cheer. Its people wear bulbous armor not from vanity, but to mock despair itself — “so grief cannot find where to stab.” Here, every tavern is a temple of warmth, and every duel ends in drink. Beneath the laughter, however, lies old sorrow: Caterinhold once stood beside Valenreach in the wars of flame, but its miracles failed, and its saints were forgotten.
Now, joy itself has become defiance — their faith not in gods, but in the strength of kinship, song, and stubborn hearts.