The Murk

The Murk is a mishap of nature, living and yet dead. This sunken expanse is as ancient as the Oldwood trees, but where they age in grace and majesty, the Murk rots on as a devious and unforgiving twin. Within this twisted grotto the stench of rot is so thick it is said to drift like a fog, choking off light throughout the region.

The runoff of the N’ylem is partly to blame for this decay, as the river has been siphoned over the edge of the forest and into bogs on the Murk floor. Whether that flow is a natural course of the river or if lesser hands have turned it to ruin is unknown, but the effect is clear: the trees, roots and soil are rotting alive. The beasts are mad with ferocity and the water is leached with disease and death. No one comes to recover corpses here. Well, almost no one.

Points of Interest
The Fens of the Tohrn


 * The Tohrn are a cult of Elves that have been twisted by the call of Tohrdaenyyr, the god called “The Endless Inferno”. Forsaking every shred of Faerthalean heritage, Tohrn settle in the stomach of the Murk and begin a process of subversion that will strip away their former identity, even eating through their Elvenhood. Set apart from the civilization of their birth, Tohrn continue a primal descent that was likely started within their heart, long before they set foot into this valley of desecration. Once inside the last vestiges of the resilient, observant nature of a Faerthalean Elf withers away, replaced by a paranoid and ruthless zeal. The communal perspective of Elven culture gives way to absolutes of authority and submission, and the value of life is a scale that slides according to the whims of another. The life of a Tohrn is a deconstructed husk of healthy Elven self-discipline, as members of the cult submit themselves to masters who care for little save for strict obedience.


 * All this in service of the most vile and merciless god of the S’iolyrii, who seems to have once again found himself a living host in a valley of death.