The Blightbark

The Blightbark

The Blightbark is a south-central woodland near the Plaguelands. It is a damaged belt where scarcity and blight overlap. Since the Plaguelands spread, rivers and lakes across Oblivion Vale are gone. Settlements here survive on wells, cistern pits, and guarded roads. Safety is limited, and control is harsh.

Trees, ground, and air

Trees grow warped and thin, packed close together. Trunks are gray-brown with black seams where sap leaks and crusts. Many trees bleed bitter sap when cut or broken. The sap ruins tool edges and eats leather straps. Leaves are sparse and dull, often flecked with pale mold. The ground holds dead brush, snapped branches, and pits where old wells collapsed. The air smells of sour resin and smoke from burn piles. Fog sits low on many mornings and makes distance hard to judge.

Soil failure and local food

Farming fails in the soil around the woodland. Fields near the tree line turn sour within a season and stop taking seed. Villages shift to fungus beds, root cellars, and trapped game. Meat is dried or smoked hard because rot starts quickly. Many families also eat insects and grubs gathered from deadfall. Livestock is rare. Animals that graze too near the trees often sicken from sap and mold.

Water sources and control

Water comes from a few hard wells and sealed cistern pits. Some are old and stone-lined. Others are crude shafts that collapse if neglected. Each working source is treated as a state asset or temple trust, even when a village dug it by hand. Well-Wardens and Reservoir Guards inspect locks, casks, and ration tallies. Border fort crews enforce closures during fever weeks. Life priests run small relief yards. Death priests oversee burn lines and quarantine declarations when outbreaks rise.

Settlement pattern and camp failure

No major town stands inside the Blightbark. People live on the edge in small villages, ration yards, and short-stay camps. Refugees often try to hold shuttered clearings with tents and torn cloth fences. Most camps fail fast. They cannot keep water clean, cannot separate the sick, and cannot defend the well line at night. When a camp collapses, it leaves pits, scrap boards, and broken carts. Those remains become cover for raiders and beasts.

Roads, ash posts, and quarantine lines

Travel is slow because deadfall blocks tracks and new brush hides old lanes. Locals mark routes with ash posts and nailed boards. Posts show the least tainted paths, the next guarded well, and the current quarantine edge. Signs are not always true. Raiders move them. Cults repaint them. Patrols also change them without notice when a cordon shifts. Many crews refuse to travel without a guide who has walked the route within the last week.

Economy under ruin

People still take value from the woodland because they have few choices. Bitter sap is collected under quota and poured into sealed casks. It is boiled down into a harsh pitch used for sealing and rot resistance. The work burns eyes and throats, so crews rotate fast. Timber is cut mainly for fuel and repair boards. Charcoal pits sit in safer edge zones, watched by armed hands, because one raid can destroy a season of stock.

Law, bribery, and who gets to drink

Water law shapes every dispute here. Tokens, tallies, and seal marks decide who drinks first at a yard. Inspectors can cut a family off with a stamp. Bribery still happens. A guard may look away from a light cask. A runner may remove a name from a quarantine list. Contract agents push casks through closures when profit is high. When fraud is found, punishment is public and severe, because officials fear riots more than theft.

Human threats in the woodland

Orc warbands use the outer thickets for cover. Hunger drives their timing. They strike caravans, well yards, and ration sheds, then vanish back into brush before a response forms. They raid for casks, tools, salted food, and captives. Orc leaders often aim to seize a single well and hold it long enough to feed their band, then bargain for safe withdrawal. Plague cults hide in shuttered clearings. They trade charms and false cures for food and blood. They sometimes sabotage a well yard, then offer a cure in exchange for tribute and obedience.

Quarantine structures and burn practice

Quarantine in the Blightbark is practical and ugly. Villages build crude pens downwind of wells, using fence rails and wagon panels. People inside are fed last and guarded with poles to avoid touch. When bodies pile up, crews dig burn trenches and mark ash lines so others cannot claim ignorance. Many villages keep a burn cart ready with oil rags and stamped boards, because they must prove they acted fast if an inspector arrives.

Plaguelands influence

The Blightbark shows Plaguelands damage in daily, physical ways. Mold spreads fast on cloth and stored grain. Small wounds swell and refuse to close. Insect bites fester. Some clearings feel wrong to animals. Dogs refuse to enter and birds avoid the canopy. Locals call these shut clearings. Many are tied to old camp pits, collapsed wells, or buried burn trenches. Digging often finds blackened wood and sealed scraps of clothing.

Monster presence and why it makes sense here

The Blightbark supports predators that follow roads and wells. It also supports plagueborn creatures that use fear and spoiled water. Monsters are a consistent part of travel planning here, not rare accidents.

Pox Wolves

Pox Wolves stalk caravan lanes and fence lines near collapse pits. They hunt in small packs and target legs and hands. A bite carries a wasting fever that slows travel and locks joints. That forces a group to spend clean water and time they cannot spare. Packs often trail raids and camp movements, feeding on the wounded and the abandoned.

Plaguehogs

Plaguehogs root through ruined farms, midden heaps, and edge sheds. Their bite and drool rot wood and leather fast. A herd can ruin door bars, harness straps, and water skins in one night. They do not need to kill to cause a supply collapse. Their churned pits and infected scraps also draw worse plague creatures into the same lanes.

Spore-Callers

Spore-Callers appear near damp sinkholes, failed cistern chambers, and shut clearings. They raise a spore fog that causes panic and hallucinations. People run, drop tools, and break formation without a fight. The Spore-Caller then guides plague beasts toward the confusion. Some cults treat this as proof and follow it, which often ends in mass sickness or slaughter.

Giant constrictor snakes

Giant constrictor snakes lair where damp still exists, such as seep pockets and collapsed well pits. They wait near narrow paths where carts must pass close. They kill by crushing and drag bodies into brush. Survivors often flee and abandon packs and casks, which then draws raiders and wolves.

How the threats overlap

The Blightbark is dangerous because its problems feed each other. Plaguehogs break stores and ruin water skins, forcing people to move. Movement creates trails that Pox Wolves hunt. Orc raids create wounded stragglers and dropped gear, which increases predator pressure. Spore-Caller fog turns an organized escort into a scattered crowd, which lets every other threat close in. A single failure often becomes a chain of failures, and the woodland keeps the results visible: broken posts, empty casks, and ash rings that mark where bodies were burned.

What people watch for

• Locals look for signs of failure.

• Bitter sap on bark means tools will break and animals will sicken.

• Fog that clings at midday can mean a spore zone or a seep pocket nearby.

• Chewed leather and black drool crust can mean plaguehogs.

• Quiet insects and new fungus caps can mean a Spore-Caller passed through.

• Dragged brush lines near pits can mean a constrictor is close.

• Cut saplings and moved ash posts often mean orcs are near.

Why the Blightbark matters

The Blightbark feeds nearby roads with small but vital supplies, and it kills many people for those supplies. Every guarded cask hauled past the trees is a gamble. Every patrol that enters returns thinner and more willing to enforce harsher rules. In 3A 3192, the Blightbark remains a contested survival belt on the edge of plague change, with no stable recovery in sight.