Things are not always
what they seem, and that is most certainly the case for one of
Shiloft's darker peculiarities. Mythrin Forest sits just a day's ride
north of Vellonae, nestled against the Falstaff Mountains and
stretches very nearly to the Backbone. From a distance, it appears as
though the nearby mountain range is casting an unnaturally dark
shadow over the land... though even up close, things don't change all
that much, I suppose.
The forest pines are
of an unnatural color, and taking not three steps into their realm
invites a kind of uncomfortable weight upon your shoulders, a subtle
feeling of dread, and an icy chill that seems to have no right to be
there—and it is certainly there throughout all seasons.
On that, you can trust
me. I was fairly bored one year.
Scattered about the
forest are abandoned towns and homesteads that have been overtaken by
the ravenous wood. Homes are still filled with various odds and
ends; there are still pictures hanging on some of the walls, child's
toys tipped over on the floors, barrels of dust that were once filled
with grain and rice. In some of these towns, it appears as though
their denizens simply dropped whatever it was they were doing and
walked away. Even amidst all the decay, these places impart the
feeling that they've been relatively untouched by man. Preserved,
with all their treasures still safe out in the open.
Moving from west to
east through the forest, travel is difficult. Hills and rocky gullies
are a constant, and any path you might hope to make towards your
destination will be positively choked off by the trees and rabid
overgrowth. Making camp anywhere in Mythrin will be an inconvenience,
as even ground is painfully sparse.
You will have back
pain the following morning, and you will hobble along through the
rest of your journey, cursing at the wildlife and occasionally taking
out your aggression on the nearest tree.
On that, you can trust
me.
Two days on foot will
bring you to the ravaged banks of the River Wild, which neatly parts
the forest in two from north to south. Crossing it is nearly
impossible without some kind of construct, as the waters spilling out
of the Backbone of the World are far more aggressive here than
anywhere else on their run to Lake Terim.
There are a few places
here and there where one might be able to navigate a fallen tree or
an outcropping of rocks to get to the opposite bank but, overall, I
do not recommend any of these options. I very much recommend that
anyone looking to cross the River Wild should make the hike further
north to the last standing bridge over the raging waters, the name of
which I have yet to ascertain. Much of the bridge has eroded away
since its construction, and I hesitate to think it'll still yet stand
in another few decades, but it is there, and it will carry you safely
across to the other side.
I must lament that I
only discovered this bridge after thrice attempting to cross a fallen
tree, and thrice being carried away by the currents into very sharp
rocks. I simply must lament.
Further east, the
forest will grow darker and darker until even at high noon, it will
feel as though the sun had set hours ago. The trees take on a twisted
form here. The overgrowth remains, but most of it is dead and fragile
to the touch. Animals bay and howl, and even I am unsure what
creatures exist that could possibly make those noises. They are
terrible to hear. I often conjure them in my nightmares and they
never fail to rip me from a previously peaceful slumber.
It's here that one is
able to glean the evil magics that run through the roots of Mythrin
Forest, and that in itself is a suitable explanation for why so many
towns tried to establish themselves in this region, and why none
remain. It is the only explanation we have.
But to say that
nothing good exists would not be true... It would almost
be true, but not quite.
There
exists a city within this blighted area of the Realm, which few
outside its own citizens have explored. The Commonwealth of Mythrin
Flats is densely populated by creatures who were once members of the
race of man, but have now become something else entirely.
They
are immortals, but before you even begin to find elation in that
notion, know that their existence is a troubled one. They are
immortal only in the sense that they must feed on the meat and blood
of living creatures. Raw meat cut from a freshly slain beast is their
preferred mode of sustenance these days, but this wasn't always so.
The
vampires, as they are called, descend from the cursed bloodline of
Nalina Vamperi: the First, the Fallen One, the Betrayer, the
Oathbreaker—and other various titles which shouldn't be printed
verbatim. It is enough to say the vampires of the present have no
fondness for the First. Their curse is such a potent one that the
very image of Nalina causes a physical reaction within a vampire.
Any
who are afflicted with the curse have it forced upon them through
malicious means, and vampire mutates in such a way that he or she can
imbibe the blood of a human at an alarming rate, a matter of minutes
if some reports are to be believed. Being unable to reproduce,
conversion is the only way to increase their numbers. A victim has to
be almost completely drained of their blood before they are afflicted
by the curse and converted.
Up
until thirty years ago [T.Y. 193], conversions were at an all time
high. In Kanter, the Order was already beginning to formulate plans
to escalate offensive measures against the vampires. This was until a
cursed one calling himself Baron Arhen Tanreus was able to rein in
the out-of-control creatures, taking them all into the darkened deeps
of Mythrin Forest. It's unclear whether this was done forcibly, if
there was any resistance, or if the transition was peaceful, but
since then, not one vampire has been seen outside of the forest.
Though,
rumors certainly exist that the cursed ones have broken the borders,
they are unsubstantiated and likely the onset of an emerging urban
myth.
Since
then, the vampires have lived without incident in a reclaimed city
that was abandoned by the Order at the turn of Antamur's Cycle [T.Y.
1]. They've stayed out of Shiloft's way, and regained control of
their bloodlust.
Who
can tell how they were able to accomplish this? Not me, for I
resolved to give the city a wide berth. This is one instance where I
felt not the least bit comfortable with continuing on for the sake of
this journal. One instance; maybe not the first. I am an on-again,
off-again coward, it must be said.
Mythrin
Flats must remain undiscovered country for now, but perhaps there
will be a group of braver adventurers—less prone to falling into
rivers, mind you—who would be willing to break those borders and
discover just how the Baron was able to bring order to an orderless
species.
Perhapses
and maybes. But I have a good feeling about the matter.
On
that, you can trust me...
~Falren the Wanderer
P.S.
- You can trust me because I have a divining orb. If I came off as
sounding mysterious, I apologize.
