The Witchmire Wood lies in the southwest interior of Oblivion Vale. It is a low woodland where the ground stays soft and foul, and fog settles often and without warning. The lack of surface water makes the region unstable, and people vanish here often enough that maps disagree on what still exists.
The wood is dense with low trees that have black bark and thick roots. The ground shifts between cracked clay and deep mud, making movement slow and tracks unreliable. Fog hangs between trunks and hides distance, shape, and sound. Old work sites scar the land with ash stains, tar pits, and collapsed racks. Rags, bones, and crude markers hang from branches, but many lead nowhere or into danger.
Travel in Witchmire happens in short pushes between known points. Camps stay small and move often because nothing here lasts. Noise and digging draw attention fast. Groups that linger lose people. Those that move too quickly get lost. Most deaths come from mistakes, not fights.
Paths are marked with simple signs meant to be seen in fog. Nails in bark, hanging rags, and bone bundles are common. Everyone uses them. That makes them unreliable. A marked route may lead to an abandoned camp, an ambush, or nothing at all. Some paths are marked twice on purpose to split groups or send pursuers the wrong way.
Witchmire produces hides, tar, resin, and bone work. Small work sites rise where materials are close and collapse when pressure builds. Smoke is hidden. Waste is buried or burned. Crude warning poles stand near paths, made from wood, nails, and bone. Some are meant to scare animals. Others warn of raiders. Many exist only to give workers a sense of control in a place that offers none.
There are no real towns in Witchmire. Only short-lived camps exist, built by workers, smugglers, or desperate families. When a camp fails, it is stripped bare and erased. Nothing is left behind that could be traced or reused. Attempts to control the wood fail because enforcement costs more than the land gives back.
Nearby forts treat Witchmire as both resource ground and threat zone. Patrols watch known routes and destroy camps when raids increase. These actions remove cover but also drive hunger deeper into the wood. Each burn pushes new groups in, restarting the cycle. Control never holds.
Orc groups move along the edges and deep cover of Witchmire. They raid at night and travel light. Hunger drives most attacks. They target camps, lone crews, and known supply points. When pressure rises, they scatter. When pressure fades, they return. Any camp that lasts too long draws them.
People entering Witchmire often perform simple rites. Some seek strength. Some seek clean death if they fail. Many swear silence, shared rules, and restraint. Shrines are crude and temporary. Dead are rarely buried properly. Many groups leave a share behind for those who did not make it out.
Green hags thrive in Witchmire because law is thin and desperation is constant. A hag may appear as a tired worker, a guide, or a healer. She offers help that seems to work at first. The price grows over time. Her most effective weapon is doubt. She poisons sources just enough to make groups turn on each other. She keeps victims alive to force obedience. Fear lasts longer than murder.
Hags often settle in old work sites where smell and rot hide them. Some warning poles and shrines are not human-made. Clean or well-kept markers are suspect here. Real camps do not waste time or effort on order. Anything that looks untouched is likely a trap.
Succubi move through Witchmire by following need. They pose as helpers, survivors, or officials and isolate targets quietly. They offer short relief in exchange for agreement. Afterward, they use lies and planted claims to turn allies against each other. They prefer control that lasts, not quick kills.
Fog limits sight. Mud erases tracks. Markers are reused by enemies. Raids happen at night. Hags create mistrust. Devils rewrite stories. Survivors often change details to avoid blame. The result is a region where truth breaks down fast and control becomes impossible.
Even the reckless follow habits here:
Stay quiet. Sound carries.
Keep fires small and hidden.
Do not linger.
Share supplies in turns.
Sleep ready to move.
Witchmire still matters because it produces materials no one can ignore. Scarcity keeps people coming back. Fog makes force unreliable. Threats from raiders, hags, and devils turn every shortage into violence. No power can hold the wood without losing more than it gains.