Lightcreep
Along the Low Escarpment by the forgotten East Heath the forest grows wild. Protected from loggers who cannot forge into its heart and guarded by some spirit of the wood, this shaded, rocky region remains insular. No one lives here; no elves or halfings or intrepid humans either dare call it home. If one travels to the region one will find the dilapidated homes and tents and cottages of the settlers that ran away from the fear in the night.
If one were to be unfortunate enough to find themselves in the region at night they would first notice the sun sets sooner and the twilight momentarily flickers before turning to night. At night the insects can be heard. Large crickets the size of cats creep along, too large to properly hop. They carry their beetle-sized young on their crusty backs and chirp with their large hairy legs. Squirrel-sized flies likewise buzz languidly and land on drooping branches. A few luminescent moths flitter slowly about, landing gracefully on branches. Even large spiders crawl in the brush, their many eyes seeking food.
Underneath the carapace feet of the large creatures are the drooping, glowing flowers with four or five petals. These beautiful flowers only bloom in the moonlight and only in this region, no doubt connected by some mother-flower hidden deep in the escarpment or some hollow. The deciduous palms with their thick, brown leaves provide nests for the owls that burrow into the tops or make hollows with their sharp, shovel beaks.
The most beautiful — and feared — plant is the Lightcreep. It's a fungus that grows along the floor. It can grow a foot a night, winding like a luminescent snake. This fungus is rope-like with crinkled protrusions along its flanks to soak in the moonlight and release spores. These crinkles are soft and with small rivets to breathe. The soft green and yellow light it produces illuminates up to ten feet in bright light and another twenty feet of dim light. The light transitions between green and yellow in unknown patterns, but patterns nonetheless. The fungus, if threatened, splits itself and grows into two separate strands. These strands can further divide if threatened.
The threat of the Lightcreep comes from how it overtakes the forest floor. Many animals, enticed by the sight of it, try to eat it. The fungus, if given enough time to respond, will shoot out acidic spores that cause nausea and vertigo. It is also poisonous to eat. The stomachs of those poor creatures who eat it vacate by any means necessary. The vines grow around trunks and branches, using its underside to suck nutrients out. It can also use its underside on walls or roofs to disrupt them and cause weak points. Indeed, any of the ruins one sees in the region have the signs of Lightcreep effects: vine-like depressions and black specks from its acidic spores.
For this horrid fungus the brave settlers fled quicker than they came, for large insects are nothing to a sword or waraxe or bow, but a fungus that disperses acid and eats away the foundations? That problem is unsolvable.
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