The Bloodhollow Highlands lie on the western edge of Oblivion Vale. The land is made of broken ridges, narrow passes, and steep gullies that cut sight lines and slow movement. Old roads follow the ridge tops, built when rivers still shaped travel. Most now end at dry channels and cracked basins. The ground holds iron and hard stone, so people keep returning, even though every claim turns violent.
The highlands are bare rock with thin soil. Shale slides are common, and the ground shifts after cold nights and strong wind. Travel stays high where possible, because gullies trap wagons and block escape. Wind blows almost constantly and carries grit that burns eyes and lungs. Storms hit the ridges first and break fast. Long wind cycles spread sickness and exhaustion, even when no clear plague is named.
There is no open water anywhere in the highlands. Survival depends on guarded sources and escorted movement. Towns and forts form around control points, not comfort. Any disruption can kill a settlement in days. Because of this, water is treated as authority. Those who control access decide who works, who travels, and who lives.
Sabotage is common. A broken pump, a collapsed shaft, or a poisoned draw point can end a town without a fight. Accusations spread fast. Punishment follows faster.
Travel moves through narrow ridge passes marked by cairns and old towers. These serve as borders, warning points, and ambush ground. Convoys move tightly and avoid detours, because leaving the road often means death. A single broken axle or lost animal can strand a crew where there is no cover and no relief.
Most strongholds sit on ridge crowns. Some towers were built before the Drying and reused since. A working tower means the pass is watched. A silent tower means something has already gone wrong.
The highlands provide iron, slate, and hard stone. Mines are small and spread out, not deep complexes. Cave-ins are common, and people fear what stirs below old seams. Work sites leave slag piles and spoil heaps that shift underfoot. Boots split. Legs break. Infections follow.
Injury is expected. Death is routine.
Fort-towns exist to control movement and enforce survival order. Gates decide who enters. Guards decide who moves. Authority decides who receives help and who is denied it. Conflict inside these towns never stops. Soldiers want resources for patrols. Relief workers want them for the weak. Labor bosses want them to keep production running. No group can win without starving another.
In crisis, commanders claim full authority. Supplies, tools, and stored water are seized for survival of routes and forts. This can save entire regions or destroy families overnight. People fear legal orders as much as raiders, because both take without mercy.
Raider camps strike along old roads and ruined crossings. They watch from ridge lines and use gullies as kill zones. Raids are about capture, not slaughter. Control of a single supply point, even briefly, can fund weeks of survival through trade or threat.
Some human gangs operate the same way. They pose as escorts, demand payment in water, and disappear before retaliation can form.
Ridge-top ruins cover the highlands. Some are forts. Others are older shrines built when water routes still mattered. People believe these places remember old violence. Fights return to the same passes again and again, even when patrol routes change.
Faith follows survival. Life is strongest where wounds are treated. Death is strongest where bodies pile up. Fate is strongest where a single mistake ends a crew.