Summers in Naschzar are hot and dry and dusty. In parts of the grey steppes, the dust is a powder so fine, that on a windless day a single footfall throws clouds into the air which seem to refuse to ever settle down on the ground again instead staying afloat in the unmoving air. Breathing becomes difficult, eyes, noses, ears, as well as every patch of skin not matter if protected or uncovered are irritated and raw.
Creatures within such a dust zone suffer disadvantage to all constitution rolls, checks and saves as well as to perception checks.
Naschzar already digs into a set of Russia cliches with its lands stretching endlessly towards the East and enemy armies advancing themselves to death in its depth. Including marches through the dust clouds of a parched shadeless steppe just serves to reinforce these images some more.