The Bloodhollow Highlands sit on the western side of Oblivion Vale. They are a wide belt of broken ridges, steep gullies, and wind-cut passes. Older road lines run along the ridge spines. Many of these roads were laid when rivers still guided travel. Now they often end at dry channels and cracked basins. The land has ore and hard stone, so claims never stop. The land also has no open water, so every claim becomes a fight over wells, cistern yards, and escort routes.
Most ridges are grey-brown rock with thin soil. Shale slides are common, and the ground shifts after freeze and high wind. Travel stays on high spines because gullies can trap wagons and block sight lines. Wind is constant and carries dust that irritates eyes and lungs. Storm fronts hit the ridge tops first, then move east. In bad seasons, the wind changes for days at a time, and people call it plague-wind even when no sickness is named.
There are no rivers and no lakes. Water comes from deep wells, aquifer taps, and public cistern yards. Fort-towns set ration hours and curfews around water points. A guard line forms before dawn, and an official records volume by token and seal. Private wells exist, but they are treated as state assets if the town is under emergency law.
Water is not only supply. It is also status and control.
Well registries define who may draw and when.
Cistern audits decide if a district is punished or favored.
Theft is treated as a security crime, not a minor offense.
Sabotage accusations are common, because a broken pump can kill a town.
The highlands are crossed by pass roads marked with cairns used as range marks. These cairns also act as quiet borders between patrol zones. Convoys move by strict schedule. A cut rope, a broken axle, or a lost mule can strand a crew for days, because detours often lead into shale bowls with no water and no cover.
Most fortified points sit on ridge crowns. Watchtowers and old ruins mark the tops. Some towers predate the Drying and are built from older stone blocks taken from river-era sites. Many have been reclaimed into signal posts with braziers and mirrored plates. A working tower means safer travel. A dead tower means a blind pass.
Bloodhollow provides iron, black stone, hard slate, and quarry block. Mines are small and scattered, not one deep complex. This is partly due to cave-ins and partly due to fear of what wakes under the ground. Every active claim needs:
a charter stamp or levy seal
a tally clerk to record output
locked sheds for tools and food
guarded cask racks for water
Slag piles and spoil heaps mark older work sites. These piles create new hazards. They shift under foot, hide sink holes, and hold sharp scrap that cuts boots and skin. Injury is common, and infection is feared.
Fort-towns are built around three structures: the gate, the cistern yard, and the tally hall. The gate controls movement. The cistern yard controls life. The tally hall controls blame.
Most towns also keep:
a public relief house tied to Life faith or to crown duty
a quarantine shed tied to Death faith or to fort command
a small seal office tied to Fate oaths and transport law
Conflict is routine. Fort captains want water reserved for patrols and escorts. Relief houses want water reserved for sick and children. Levy crews want water reserved for claim work that pays the crown. Each group can cite law, but none can create new water.
In the western border culture, commanders use March Writs during crisis. A March Writ allows seizure of stores, tools, and water casks “for route survival.” In practice, it turns hunger into a legal matter. A stamped writ can take a family’s winter food in one hour. A stamped writ can also save a convoy that keeps a whole town alive. People fear the stamp as much as raiders, because both can take your supply.
Goblinoid road-camps strike for casks, tools, and captives. They prefer old roads and ruined crossings, because those places force wagons to slow. They often set watchers on ridge lines and use gullies as kill lanes. Raids are not only violence. They are also supply capture. A raider group that holds a cistern yard for one night can trade stolen water for weeks.
Some human gangs work like raiders as well. They hide under forged seals, claim “escort authority,” and take a toll in water, not coin. This is harder to punish, because proof is paper and most witnesses are already thirsty.
Bloodhollow has many ridge-top ruins. Some are old forts. Some are older shrines built along river-era routes. The common belief is that these places were built for travel, trade, and water rights long before the Drying. People also believe the highlands remember old disputes. This shows in how quickly violence returns to the same passes, even after patrol lines shift.
Many miners carry small charms tied to Fate, because oaths and consequence feel close in a place where a single error kills a crew. Many guards carry Death marks, because burial is frequent and clean rites reduce panic. Life faith is strongest in relief yards, where triage is daily work.
Bloodhollow’s monsters are not random. Each one fits the pressures of the region: wind, stone, isolation, and counted water. These creatures shape patrol doctrine, claim law, and where towns dare to build.
Air elementals form in harsh wind seasons. They move along ridge spines and through watchtowers, because towers funnel air through gaps and shutter cracks. They carry grit into eyes, lungs, and open wounds. They can tear tents, scatter ration lines, and knock sentries from platforms. In the highlands, their worst impact is on water control. A single strike can split water skins and ruin a cistern draw hour, leaving a yard in panic.
Signs people watch for include sudden torch gutter, dust bands that spiral against the wind, and a fast rise in coughing on a route. Forts keep shutters sealed and store papers under oilcloth because a torn ledger can be as dangerous as a torn waterskin.
Earth elementals rise near broken mines, quarry cuts, and old dry channels. They are drawn to ore seams and buried moisture. In Bloodhollow, they often appear after crews breach an old seal or dig into a salt seam stained with blood from past collapses. They crush supports, collapse tunnels, and trap crews until thirst ends the work.
This has changed mining culture. Many claims use shallow shafts, short shifts, and heavy bracing. Some crews leave salt and animal blood at tunnel mouths as a rough appeasement. Officials deny this practice, but it continues because the loss record is clear.
Ettins live in ruin forts, narrow ravines, and gullies that overlook pass roads. They track convoys by sound and smoke. One head watches for patrols while the other counts stolen casks and meat. In the highlands, ettins are also used by smugglers and border gangs as living toll gates. They keep hostages to force payment, because a hostage costs less effort than a fight.
Their presence has created “quiet passes,” where caravans avoid lighting fires and move in smaller groups. This makes travel slower and more expensive, which increases hunger pressure in the forts that rely on steady deliveries.
Grimstag-Giants prowl cold moor pockets, high grass shelves, and the edges of hard forest where the highlands break into scrub. They favor fog and low visibility. They target riders first, then take tack, weapons, and water skins as trophies. They do not hold territory like a fort. They move, strike, and leave bodies behind to draw scavengers that hide the next ambush.
Their attacks have forced changes in escort practice. Some forts reduce mounted patrols in certain months and use foot scouts with wider spacing. This slows warning time, but it reduces the number of riders lost in a single rush.
Cloud giants claim high ridges and storm layers above the passes. They hoard rain catchers, fog nets, and sky cisterns built from wrecked towers. In Bloodhollow, they are feared because they treat water first as tribute, and coin second as insult. They can force a convoy to surrender casks at spear point from above, then vanish into cloud cover before a response can form.
Their presence also affects settlement placement. Forts avoid building too high on open crowns unless the position is worth the risk. Some towers keep decoy cistern bladders and empty casks as sacrifice stock, because surrendering something small can prevent a full yard raid.
Storm giants are rare inland, but Bloodhollow sits under strong western fronts and long ridge spines that pull storms across the highlands. When a storm giant appears here, it is usually tied to old high towers, lightning strike points, or ridge ruins that act like storm anchors. They demand tribute in salt, iron, and sworn service, and they punish refusal by breaking infrastructure and scattering convoys.
Because sea trade is already thin across the continent, any storm giant activity that disrupts western routes can echo into broader shortages. Fort commanders treat sightings as strategic threats, not only monster reports. They record them in sealed ledgers and restrict travel until the front passes.