The Mirelit Wood is a thin coastal woodland built on dark sand, peat, and brackish seep-ground. Cold wind and salt air keep trees low and bent. Since the Drying, fresh water is the main limit on life. The coast still provides fish, kelp, and shell beds, but it cannot support large towns. People survive in small clusters that guard wells and cistern yards with the same security used for weapons and grain.
Fog rolls in often and cuts sight to a few paces. Needle brush and salt grasses hide sinkholes and shallow pools that taste of metal. Storms come hard off the sea and can destroy a season of work in one night. Paths stay narrow because wide tracks become easy ambush routes. Most routes are marked with bone stakes, rope lines, or faded elven stones set high enough to see in fog.
Fresh water is measured, locked, and traded in stamped casks. Wells are sealed with iron collars, keyed caps, and watch locks. Many homes share one well house, and that well house controls who can stay. A broken seal is treated as sabotage, not accident. Brackish seep pools exist, but most are unsafe to drink. People use them for curing fish, tanning hides, and mixing pitch.
Fishing crews use tarp docks and light skiffs that can be dragged above storm lines. Kelp is dried on rack lines, then ground into bitter meal or used as cord and packing. Smoke sheds try to preserve fish, but damp air and rot spoil stores fast. Many families keep shallow salt pits, guarded at night, because salt keeps food stable and supports trade. When storms hit, nets vanish, casks crack, and hunger follows within days.
Settlements are clusters of half-dug homes set close to a locked well house or pump shed. Roofs are driftwood, tar cloth, and packed peat. Most yards keep one dry fire pit and one ash barrel, since wood is scarce and fire draws attention. Watch rings rotate around cistern yards at night. Refuge is never free. New arrivals are screened, searched, and often turned away unless they bring proof of value.
The Stillsong Enclave maintains small outposts and contracted crews along the Mirelit coast. They do not rule the wood, but they control key parts of water handling. Their engineers build pump sheds, filters, and sealing valves that keep wells stable under salt pressure. They trade parts and repair work for fish oil, kelp cord, salvage iron, and escorted access to specific inlets. Their crews travel with written clauses and strict schedules. Locals resent their fees, yet many still pay, because a failed seal can ruin a well and force a cluster to flee.
Old elven sites lie under roots and peat. They are low stone rings, buried waystones, and collapsed watch posts cut with oath marks. Many were built before the Drying, when coastal travel was easier and fresh water was less controlled. Some stones were used as border markers, others as ward anchors. Most locals cannot read the marks, but they recognize warning cuts and paired symbols. Some families keep these places clear of brush and refuse to burn wood near them. This is done from fear, not reverence.
Sea-cults meet at night in hidden coves and rock hollows where shrines can be covered fast. They trade salt, bone charms, and drowned relics pulled from wrecks and sea caves. Their public face is storm prayer and burial rites for the drowned. Their real power is social control. They offer food during famine weeks, hide debtors from inland audits, and punish outsiders who take from their coves. Some cult leaders keep sealed boxes of relic iron, black wax, and etched knives. These objects are treated as private property and proof of rank. Some are used in rites that weaken old wards.
Smugglers use shallow inlets as quiet ports. They move water and medicine past inland inspectors, and they move forged travel marks that bypass quarantine checks. They also move people: debt crews fleeing contract courts, deserters with sickness marks, and families cut off from wells. Smuggling here is a response to ration control, but it is also a predator trade. Many smugglers charge in water, not coin, and they enforce payment through violence.
Wolves are common because prey is scarce and carcasses are frequent after storms. They track fish waste, dead shore animals, and the smell of smoke sheds. They follow at distance and target the weak, the lost, and the wounded. Dire wolves are fewer, but they are far more dangerous. They grow large on battlefield carrion and drowned bodies washed inland. Dire wolf packs learn the layout of cask yards and attack when guards shift during fog. In hard winters they test fences and doors, and they will push through torchlight when hunger is severe.
Orcs appear in the Mirelit Wood as seasonal raiders and displaced warbands. They do not hold fixed forts on the coast. They come for water casks, iron fittings, and captured workers who can be traded inland. Some strike from the woodland edge, then flee to hidden boats. Others use old elven choke paths to ambush travelers. Orc leaders respect supply control and often target pump sheds first, because breaking a seal forces a settlement into surrender.
Infernal influence is not constant on the Mirelit coast, but it appears when relic trade, broken oaths, and weak wards occur together. Old elven stones can act as anchors that hold deep breaches shut. When those anchors are cracked, moved, or defaced, the risk rises. A demon presence also spreads through bargains made in secret, especially when hunger and thirst make people accept terms they do not fully understand.
Glabrezu appear through bargaining chains tied to smugglers, sea-cult leaders, and desperate well keepers. They offer quick fixes: a hidden cistern map, a forged clean mark, a rival found dead, a storm that breaks a dock. They ask for small signatures first, then expand the debt. When a glabrezu is active, one group often gains sudden water access while its neighbors suffer a matching loss. Officials usually respond with raids, audits, and scapegoats, which creates more despair and more bargains.
Marilith appear when a cult turns from secret rites to armed control. A marilith acts like a war captain. It trains followers, sets curfews, and enforces weapon checks. It prefers organized tribute, not chaos. In the Mirelit Wood, a marilith is most often tied to a seized pump shed or a hidden cove base with stored casks. It targets leaders first to break resistance. When one is active, coastal raiding becomes disciplined and predictable, and even orc bands may avoid the zone.
A balor appears only when a major seal fails. In the Mirelit Wood, that failure is most likely at an old elven stone ring that once held a deep breach closed. When a balor rises, it burns storehouses and breaks gates. Heat dries wood and peat fast, so fire spreads even in wet air. Clusters may abandon whole stretches of coast rather than face it, sealing wells and cutting paths behind them. After a balor event, nearby states justify harsher ration law, stronger inspections, and broad purges against anyone linked to cults, smugglers, or damaged oath stones.
Most clusters enforce harsh rules because they cannot afford mistakes. Curfews near wells are common. Outsiders are searched for seal tools, ink, and false tokens. Many settlements require a witness mark before anyone can draw water. Disputes are settled fast, often through exile, because prisons cost food and water. Some places hire Stillsong engineers to judge seal damage, since a skilled lie can trigger a purge.
Despite the danger, the Mirelit Wood is a key coastal supply zone. It produces fish oil, smoked fish, kelp cord, and salvage iron from wrecks. It also provides routes that avoid inland audit stations, so it attracts smugglers and debt crews. This pressure keeps violence high, but it also keeps people from abandoning the coast entirely.
The Mirelit Wood is never stable for long. Storm seasons erase stores. Famine seasons drive wolves and orcs closer. Sea-cults and smugglers keep the coast supplied, but they also invite infernal bargains. The Stillsong Enclave prevents many wells from collapsing, yet its presence adds another layer of control and resentment. Old elven oath stones remain under roots, and many believe they still hold something back.