''Welcome to Hillcrest Farm, in the township of Kuller, Terath County, Barony of Heimdall's Gate, in the Kingdom of Caldorne, Planet Erden.''

Caldorne is about the size of Sweden (174,000 square miles) with a population of 7308000 and a population density of 42/square mile (medieval Britain), of which 365400 are urban (5%, 1% to 8% being average). The country is divided into 30 Baronies (average population: 243600) of 3 to 5 Counties (average population: 60900).

This is a fairly non-urbanized country. Only about 3045 people in any county actually live in towns. Most people live in Families--Clanholds. These are not true urban areas (although they would take the place of the more typical medieval setting where there would be hamlets or villages every 1-3 miles) and many Families specialize in one or two distinctive goods. Kuller, with a population of 250, is 5 miles away from where the refugees landed, down in the foothills; Durin (dwarven town, also with a population of 250) is 10 miles away, farther up the mountain (but only about 5 miles from Kuller); neither have an Inn or Tavern, although Mam Davis, who keeps the Bakeshop will--for a very reasonable price--serve up a foaming mug of homebrew with one of her savoury pies, and she likes company, especially in the evenings. Can't really call it a Tavern, though.

Terath, the largest town and county seat, is 25 miles away. Terath has a population of 1000...and a library and small monastery. The biggest city in the Barony of Heimdall's Gate is Heimdall's Gate, with a population of 4000. Except for Baron Denzel's Keep, it offers little more than Terath. However, Vesby, the capital city 750 miles away, has a population of over 50,000. It boasts a Cathedral to the Pantheon, with the arch-bishopric dedicated to each of the Dwellers of Godsholm attached, a Tower of the Collegium Magi of Erden, the Royal Palace, the Embassies of several foreign nations, and offers most goods and services anyone might need.

The distance from Kuller to Heimdall's Gate is 137 miles.

Across empty space, across the chi flows, past the spheres of a hundred thousand suns, the (comparatively) tiny chunk of iron, adamantine and mithral tumbled, its velocity unchecked and vector unaltered by the minimal friction of the void. For countless years it traveled (well, actually, that's because no one was counting) seemingly on a journey from nowhere to nowhere. However, eventually it struck a sphere square on, piercing the dweometric barrier and sliding past the clouds of matter and energy where comets were birthed. It travelled on and on unhindered, drawn by the compelling sun, yet its angle was such that instead of crashing it swung around that fiery well and shot back out again, like a stone shot from a sling, on a collision course with a fair blue planet.

Straight on toward the planet's north pole it raced, true as a plumb bob, at nearly forty miles a second. The minute planetoid, a mere quarter mile in diameter, broke up in the atmosphere, yet so fast was it going and so direct its path, that the fragments weren't dispersed despite the atmospheric crushing.

Its impact released 478,000,000,000,000,000,000 joules of power. Perhaps in cosmic terms it wasn't much--after all, a single solar flare of moderate size releases 6 x 10²³ joules--but still, 'twas enough and would suffice.

A fraction of a second after collision a massive fireball exploded, radiating enough heat to incinerate the forest even one-hundred miles away. The seismic wave shook the earth, and sent rocks rolling and trees shaking four hundred and fifty miles away. The air blast spread a sphere of hellish hurricane force winds that left no tree standing for one-hundred twenty-five miles in all directions. Slowly the shattering noise died, leaving a scene of preternaturally silent desolation.

When the dust finally cleared (decades later) a complex crater had been formed. The outer ring was over ten miles in diameter and half a mile deep. The sides were as steep and smooth as those of a bowl. In the very centre of the crater was a second ring, barely two miles across, with steep, vertical walls only a few dozen feet thick that nonetheless rose almost five hundred feet straight up.

Twelve thousand five hundred years later, Baron Arpad Denzel, rewarded with the vast northern marches for his unswerving loyalty during the Baron's War, looked upon this spectacular and awe-inspiring sight, and declared, "Behold! A Walled Fortress, prepared for us by the Holy God of Protection Himself. In His honour and for His Eternal Glory, my Keep and my Domain, given unto me by his Gracious Majesty, shall henceforth and forever be known as Heimdall's Gate!" ( Or so it says in the Official Authorized History of Heimdall's Gate...)

In the ensuing four hundred years since the Gate was established both city and citadel have flourished. Unlike most cities, Heimdall's Gate was built to a plan decided before the first house was built. The lesser streets are laid out like the rings of a tree, with major thoroughfares cutting across at regular intervals like the spokes of a wheel.

In the very centre the Citadel rose, its sharp stone towers echoing the natural spires. This serves as far more than merely the residence of the Baronial Family. It is also where all the official functions of the Barony, including the Middle Justice, is enacted, and is headquarters for the Baronial Regiment of Heimdall's Gate.

Adjacent, and separated from the Citadel only by spacious courtyards, are two more towers: the Cathedral and the Collegium, centres for sacred and arcane knowledge.

A single massive Gate was cut through the wall directly facing the entrance to the Citadel. Numerous lesser sally-ports were bored around the perimeter as well, each opening onto one of the ray-like roads.

In the first ring out from the Citadel one can find all the military properties--barracks, armoury, supply depots, stables, training fields and the like, but thereafter the careful design breaks down. The town is a swarm of activity, with houses and businesses of all descriptions crowding together in cheerful, noisy, rather smelly camaraderie. The comet had left mithral and adamantine in mineable quantities, and with an army to equip the smithies and smelters are always busy.