Witch Heather

The goblin's wicked arrow found its mark upon my shoulder, but I deftly rolled with the strike, aided by the strength of my armor. It prevented the foul shaft from piercing too deep, yet a searing pain emanated from the wound. Swiftly, I retaliated with a precise shot from my trusty bow, a testament to my skill. The goblin crumpled to the ground, life extinguished. With a few steps forward, however, the world around me began to spin, a dizzying dance that threatened to consume me.
The minuscule arrow lodged in my shoulder carried a treacherous poison, its effects now coursing through my veins. Panic surged within me as I swiftly assessed my dwindling supplies, realizing the absence of any remedy to counteract the venom. In that desperate moment, I comprehended the dire consequence of my potential demise in the untamed wilderness. No one would warn the Hamlet of Cear Ulthwyrn of the impending raid orchestrated by the nefarious Sceptic Wound tribe. Innocent souls, men, women, and children, would have their throats slit while they slumbered or, worse yet, awaken to find themselves shackled as slaves. All would be lost due to my failure.
Failure was an inconceivable option, an ideal that had never graced my existence. I was Abbie, once a Fianna, the epitome of prowess and valor. A princess by birth, yet a poet, warrior, and sage by virtue of my training. My hand trembled with urgency, for I knew I must at least slow the poison that clouded my sight and set my blood ablaze. Determined, I forced myself to concentrate, delving into the knowledge bestowed upon me concerning the history of the Talroch Isles, the feuds between high clans, and, most importantly, the ancient wisdom and lore of the druids. Every leaf, bark, and root within my recollection danced through my mind's eye as I extracted the shallow arrow from my stricken flesh.
A conflagration of pain engulfed me as I staggered, each step fraught with fiery chaos. My vision vacillated between moments of lucidity and a haze of bleeding colors. Up the hill, an ancient henge beckoned, promising a potential salvation amidst its timeworn stones and neglected altar. Each stride felt like traversing a scorching inferno, threatening to consume me in eternal darkness the instant my resolve wavered. Yet, I was a Fianna, Abbie, the eldest daughter of the noble MacMoehrin clan. I bore the weight of my mother's pride, and my departed father, may the gods keep his soul. I was not prepared to reunite with him just yet. No, I would battle the grim reaper with every ounce of strength remaining within my beleaguered frame.
The henge stood before me, humble and weathered, its sacred purpose long forgotten since my great grandfather's era. Overgrown with wild flowers and intermingled weeds, it welcomed my weary form as I tumbled onto my hands and knees. Pain and vertigo threatened to claim me, an insidious force pulling me ever closer to the embrace of my grave. "Not like this," I whispered to myself, a fervent plea repeated in my mind like a sacred mantra.
Amidst the struggle, a strange realization swept over me, borne of the gods' whimsical sense of humor. I almost laughed, for destiny had led me to a peculiar patch of weeds, verdant and slender, adorned with delicate blue, purple, and violet blooms. Reminiscent of heather, yet far less abundant in its kaleidoscope of hues. I seized the opportunity, stuffing the petite blossoms into my mouth, devouring them like a famished sheep. Miraculously, the burning torment began to subside. Compelled to regain my focus, I tore the stems asunder, grinding them into a poultice, which I applied to my poisoned wound. As my vision slowly cleared, I dug into the earth, unearthing the minute white roots, shaking off the clinging dirt and ingesting each bitter morsel. Their medicinal taste felt akin to a benevolent gift from the divine.
Witch Heather, they called it, a name befitting its mysterious nature. Its flowers held the power to assuage suffering, its stems transformed into a salve that expelled venom from festering wounds, and its roots bestowed vitality upon the weary. To most, it was merely a weed, scarcely worth acknowledging as a wild flower. Yet, it refused to thrive anywhere except in the proximity of the druids' sacred abodes. This humble plant had become my savior. Gathering a sufficient amount, I prepared a potent Witch Heather Tea and crafted a proper poultice to tend to my injuries. I owe my life to that unassuming weed, and the readiness of Caer Ulthwyrn to repel the goblin's nocturnal assault rests squarely upon my scouting efforts. Even now, as the mantle of leadership has passed to me, Lady Abbie MacMoehrin, I carry Witch Heather within my healer's pouch. No assassin's draught or the poisoned needles of cowardly foes shall strike fear within me, for as long as the Witch Heather safeguards me. -Lady Abbie MacMoehrin leader of Clan MacMoehrin, heroine of the Goblin Hill Raids of 482 ASD.

Basic Information

Anatomy

Witch Heather, scientifically known as Lepidoflora magica, possesses a unique and enchanting anatomy. The plant features slender stems adorned with small, lanceolate leaves that alternate along their length. These leaves exhibit a vibrant green coloration and are delicately veined, contributing to the plant's ethereal appearance. Atop the stems, clusters of petite flowers bloom, showcasing a mesmerizing array of hues, including shades of blue, purple, and violet. These blossoms possess intricate patterns and intricate arrangements of petals, resembling miniature stars. The roots of Witch Heather delve deep into the earth, anchoring the plant firmly and absorbing vital nutrients for its growth. Despite its modest stature, Witch Heather exudes an aura of enchantment and holds within its unassuming form the power to heal and protect.

Ecology and Habitats

Witch Heather, believed to be an invasive species originating from the realm of the Faerie folk, exhibits a unique ecological niche and habitat preferences. This enigmatic plant draws sustenance and energy from both conventional sources available to plants and the ambient magical energies permeating its surroundings. Its growth is limited to specific regions, predominantly the Talroch Isles and Vistaghast, although historical evidence suggests it once thrived in Serrosia and Paladius before going extinct in those areas.
What sets Witch Heather apart in terms of its ecology is its intriguing aversion to proximity with active human settlements. It adamantly refuses to grow within a day's journey of such settlements, seemingly shunning the works and creations of cities and towns. Instead, the plant flourishes most abundantly near ancient, abandoned sites that hold sacred significance to nature spirits and the fey. Those seeking Witch Heather would be wise to venture far beyond the confines of civilization and explore remote locations, such as sacred springs, forgotten henges, untamed groves, and enchanted mushroom rings.
The exact reason behind Witch Heather's avoidance of human settlements remains a mystery, steeped in the mystique surrounding its fae origins.

Dietary Needs and Habits

Water, sunlight, good soil and ambient magical energy.

Additional Information

Uses, Products & Exploitation

Witch Heather proves to be a valuable resource for herbalists, healers, and survivalists due to its diverse range of uses. The plant offers a multitude of benefits and can be harnessed in various forms for different purposes.
The delicate flowers of Witch Heather possess mild, non-addictive pain-relieving properties. When consumed, they have been known to alleviate headaches, migraines, and fever, providing much-needed relief. The stems and leaves of Witch Heather can be crushed, dried, powdered, or boiled to create a potent tea or poultice. This preparation is highly effective in aiding the recovery from a wide range of poisons or diseases. Whether applied externally or ingested, Witch Heather acts as a valuable ally in combating ailments and promoting healing.
Furthermore, the roots of Witch Heather, although bitter in taste, offer a remarkable burst of energy. They are often consumed raw or utilized to create a robust, albeit bitter, tea. Some individuals even incorporate them into their culinary endeavors, although acquiring a taste for their distinctive flavor requires an adventurous palate. Nevertheless, Witch Heather is entirely edible, and those who consume its greens attest to improved health, vitality, and even an extended lifespan. It is a testament to the plant's nutritional value, abundant in essential minerals and vitamins.
Given its wide array of applications, Witch Heather is highly sought after by those who possess knowledge of its properties. Herbalists and healers prize it as a vital ingredient in their concoctions and remedies. Survivalists value its medicinal capabilities, particularly in situations where traditional medical resources may be scarce. It is also a potent addative for the crafting of healing potions and many brewers of such magicial healing draughts claim Witch Heather outstrips any other base ingrediant. The fact many view Witch Heather as a useless weed keeps it the treasured secret of many and may be a factor preventing its extinction due to over harvesting.

Scientific Name

Lepidoflora magica

Geographic Distribution

• Nations: The Talroch Isles
• Nations: The Vistaghast Islands