The Gorefens (ɡôr•'fens)
South of the ruins of Learsport and some one hundred miles east of the TTU rail line, sits an ominous and most vile swamp. With murky water the color of partially congealed blood and barren trees danglin' with moss that resembles arteries, the Gorefens sprawl across a peninsula of some 30,000 square miles. Terribly difficult to navigate because of an ever-present pink ground fog and bog-pocked ground, explorers and profiteers still brave the fetid morass in an attempt to harvest rare plant and animal life desired by th'urges the world over.
Must upsettin' though are the stories shared amongst conductors on the Double Tee You line, talk of passengers in the sleeper cars going missin' along the stretch nearest the Gorefens. Some say there's entire tribes of feral vampires livin' in the 'Fens, drawn out by the lights and commotion of the passin' locomotives, that secret onto the cars and steal people in the night for sanguine feasts. Others claim they've seen some kinds of crimson mass, little more than animate blood or a crimson ooze, twice the size of a horse, pacin' the train, and they swear, disappearin' into one of the car windows! 'Course, it's most unlikely people are goin' missin' from these trains all that offen.
Then again, conductors ain't really there to keep track of when you get off, only when you come on.
Geography
Bordered on north and east by the Forgotten Ocean, Whaler's Bay to the south and a crusty expanse of mudflats called the Scablands to the west, the Gorefens is difficult to access to say the least. Just east of the rain shadow created by the Seltoan Mountains, the mire manages to catch the remnants of that tropical moisture as it sweeps north along the coast. Most of this rainfall comes in the form of fat, cold drops that condense high in altitude as the clouds are driven up by both mountains and warm air. This weather keeps much of the indigenous plant life lush, even as it's stunted by the red, peaty undergrowth.
Scientists and natural philosophers seem convinced that the crimson color of the waters and much of the plant life must be tied to run off from the Scarlet Wastes somehow. A few posit a deep water current along the bottom of Whaler's Bay which has been depositing ruby-colored silt along the Bay's northern bank for untold eons, slowly building up the peninsula like some kind of enormous sandbar. A more popular idea is that the Scarlet Wastes and the Gorefens were once connected and that erosion from some long dead river slowly formed Whaler's Bay, separating the regions.
Moving inland from the coast, much of the Gorefens stay near sea level, with the occasional muddy hill rising from the mire's bed. The highest point on the peninsula, Burling's Horn, little more than a colorful limestone escarpment a few hundred feet tall, lies within fifty miles of the northeastern edge of the mire, easily visible from the surrounding Scablands.
Because of a general rise in elevation along the western side of the 'Fens, most of the moving water flows towards the ocean and the bay along the other edges. While this leads to countless small, sluggish streams of red mudded water, it also creates a disturbing buffer region between the 'Fens and the rolling grassland of southern Tierra Ug-eres. Called the Scablands because of the unnerving resemblance to a large, thick scab, these mudflats stretch along the western edge of the 'Fens, ranging from five to twenty five miles across. During the warmer months, crimson-hued heat mirages are common, while in the spring and fall added rainfall can turn the region into a clinging morass. Oddly, winter is the easiest time to cross the Scablands because even though it's numbingly cold, the frozen mud offers firm footing and an only slightly confusing uniformity to the expanse.
Most of the Gorefens, however, are disgust in their grisly wetness. Stagnant and slow moving channels of dark crimson muck cover most of the area. While the empirically minded have their numerous theories as to why these waterways so resemble blood and other bodily fluids, alchemists and experimenting th'urges have found something even more disturbing: magical, spiritually, and even chemically, it is in fact blood.
Scientists and natural philosophers seem convinced that the crimson color of the waters and much of the plant life must be tied to run off from the Scarlet Wastes somehow. A few posit a deep water current along the bottom of Whaler's Bay which has been depositing ruby-colored silt along the Bay's northern bank for untold eons, slowly building up the peninsula like some kind of enormous sandbar. A more popular idea is that the Scarlet Wastes and the Gorefens were once connected and that erosion from some long dead river slowly formed Whaler's Bay, separating the regions.
Moving inland from the coast, much of the Gorefens stay near sea level, with the occasional muddy hill rising from the mire's bed. The highest point on the peninsula, Burling's Horn, little more than a colorful limestone escarpment a few hundred feet tall, lies within fifty miles of the northeastern edge of the mire, easily visible from the surrounding Scablands.
Because of a general rise in elevation along the western side of the 'Fens, most of the moving water flows towards the ocean and the bay along the other edges. While this leads to countless small, sluggish streams of red mudded water, it also creates a disturbing buffer region between the 'Fens and the rolling grassland of southern Tierra Ug-eres. Called the Scablands because of the unnerving resemblance to a large, thick scab, these mudflats stretch along the western edge of the 'Fens, ranging from five to twenty five miles across. During the warmer months, crimson-hued heat mirages are common, while in the spring and fall added rainfall can turn the region into a clinging morass. Oddly, winter is the easiest time to cross the Scablands because even though it's numbingly cold, the frozen mud offers firm footing and an only slightly confusing uniformity to the expanse.
Most of the Gorefens, however, are disgust in their grisly wetness. Stagnant and slow moving channels of dark crimson muck cover most of the area. While the empirically minded have their numerous theories as to why these waterways so resemble blood and other bodily fluids, alchemists and experimenting th'urges have found something even more disturbing: magical, spiritually, and even chemically, it is in fact blood.
Ecosystem
Whatever the origin of this seemly bleeding earth, it's effects are seen throughout the 'Fens. Plant-life seems to resemble veins and capillaries, often leafless and the blacks, blues, and purples of fresh bruises and dried blood. Those vines and stunted tree which do bear leaf have foliage which is pale and fleshy, with thin arteries that seem to throb with their own pulse.
Similarly upsetting, the wildlife seems to feed almost exclusively on blood, bile, and other unwholesome fluids. Everything from stirges the size of large dogs to aquatic worms which swim in one's orifices and dwell in their circulatory system have been seen by, and killed, those who venture into the 'Fens. Strangely, most of these creatures don't seem to be predatory in the proper sense, however. Experts on things that crave sapient flesh note that most of the creatures found herein are, in fact, parasites. Additionally, they seem to be unconcerned with locating hosts most of the time, almost as if they're satiated and without a need to feed. Some seem to think these creatures feed on the partially coagulated fluids throughout the mire, sustained by its blood-like qualities.
Similarly upsetting, the wildlife seems to feed almost exclusively on blood, bile, and other unwholesome fluids. Everything from stirges the size of large dogs to aquatic worms which swim in one's orifices and dwell in their circulatory system have been seen by, and killed, those who venture into the 'Fens. Strangely, most of these creatures don't seem to be predatory in the proper sense, however. Experts on things that crave sapient flesh note that most of the creatures found herein are, in fact, parasites. Additionally, they seem to be unconcerned with locating hosts most of the time, almost as if they're satiated and without a need to feed. Some seem to think these creatures feed on the partially coagulated fluids throughout the mire, sustained by its blood-like qualities.
Fauna & Flora
Most of the plant life in the Gorefens is stunted and dark in color.
Natural Resources
As unnatural the environs and unpleasant the experience, resource harvesting expeditions have only increased in the past few years.
One plant which stands out is the Vellumwood. The Vellumwood tree is of great importance to th'urges, mostly wizards and magi, who record magical writings with a necromantic leaning. While the name is a bit a of misnomer, the soft, fleshing bark of the Vellumwood can be pounded and stretched like the skin of an animal into the smoothest of writing surfaces. Demand for this bark has risen since the end of the War
One plant which stands out is the Vellumwood. The Vellumwood tree is of great importance to th'urges, mostly wizards and magi, who record magical writings with a necromantic leaning. While the name is a bit a of misnomer, the soft, fleshing bark of the Vellumwood can be pounded and stretched like the skin of an animal into the smoothest of writing surfaces. Demand for this bark has risen since the end of the War
History
Even the wisest of investigators is puzzled by all the gruesome phenomena about the 'Fens, although some local legends may offer insight.
Old Ur'Ghkar legends claim that the peninsula where the Gorefens now are was once a fertile plain, abundant with wild orchards of fruiting trees. The people who lived here, a group who's name is lost in time, lived a simple life eating of the fruit and hunting the plentiful game amongst the trees. The legend states that among these people lived a being of great size, made of moonlight and birdsong, a great spirit or even a god of the groves. Long before the rise of Krym'Galar, a band of war-like Ur'Ghkar discovered this bounty and set to claim it as their own. They slaughtered those living on the peninsula, because even though the hunted the local beasts, they did not have weapons and knowledge for making war with intelligent beings.
Soon, only the spirit of the orchards remained, and it retaliated against the Ur'Ghkar, fighting with great zeal and grief at the lose of their companions the Ur'Ghkar had slaughtered. It slayed many of the invaders, crushing them beneath great hooved feet and lancing them upon antlers of hardened moonbeams. But in the end, the Ur'Ghkar's bloodlust and skill at arms was too great, and it too was mortally wounded.
As this little nature god laid dying, it cursed the Ur'Ghkar who had slain it, damning them to live forever in land only plentiful in the blood they had spilt, including its own. As it sighed its last breath of cherry blossoms and fallen leaves, blood as red as ripe plums began to well from below it, spreading quickly across the land which the newcomers had massacred for. It grabbed at their legs and pulled them under its surface, filling their bellies and their lungs. According to the Ur'Ghkar of the southern Vorok Mountains, this how the first vampires came to be on Veraqez.
It is also told as a fable to teach against the failings of jealousy and senseless violence. Many an old Ur'Ghkar grandmother will warn against "drawing blood, lest you begin to crave it".
As to whether this myth holds clue of how the Gorefens came to be is unclear. But some a few fortune hunters who have returned from the depths of the fetid mire claim to have found a hole in the shape of a prone body, weeping fresh thick, red fluids, surrounded by circle of gnarled trees bearing heart-shaped fruit.
Old Ur'Ghkar legends claim that the peninsula where the Gorefens now are was once a fertile plain, abundant with wild orchards of fruiting trees. The people who lived here, a group who's name is lost in time, lived a simple life eating of the fruit and hunting the plentiful game amongst the trees. The legend states that among these people lived a being of great size, made of moonlight and birdsong, a great spirit or even a god of the groves. Long before the rise of Krym'Galar, a band of war-like Ur'Ghkar discovered this bounty and set to claim it as their own. They slaughtered those living on the peninsula, because even though the hunted the local beasts, they did not have weapons and knowledge for making war with intelligent beings.
Soon, only the spirit of the orchards remained, and it retaliated against the Ur'Ghkar, fighting with great zeal and grief at the lose of their companions the Ur'Ghkar had slaughtered. It slayed many of the invaders, crushing them beneath great hooved feet and lancing them upon antlers of hardened moonbeams. But in the end, the Ur'Ghkar's bloodlust and skill at arms was too great, and it too was mortally wounded.
As this little nature god laid dying, it cursed the Ur'Ghkar who had slain it, damning them to live forever in land only plentiful in the blood they had spilt, including its own. As it sighed its last breath of cherry blossoms and fallen leaves, blood as red as ripe plums began to well from below it, spreading quickly across the land which the newcomers had massacred for. It grabbed at their legs and pulled them under its surface, filling their bellies and their lungs. According to the Ur'Ghkar of the southern Vorok Mountains, this how the first vampires came to be on Veraqez.
It is also told as a fable to teach against the failings of jealousy and senseless violence. Many an old Ur'Ghkar grandmother will warn against "drawing blood, lest you begin to crave it".
As to whether this myth holds clue of how the Gorefens came to be is unclear. But some a few fortune hunters who have returned from the depths of the fetid mire claim to have found a hole in the shape of a prone body, weeping fresh thick, red fluids, surrounded by circle of gnarled trees bearing heart-shaped fruit.
Alternative Name(s)
The Bloodfens, the Bleeding Marsh
Type
Wetland / Swamp
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