Faulmoor Overview

I have journeyed far across the lands of Norvostra, but none have left such an imprint upon my mind as the accursed region of Faulmoor. A land once spoken of for its stark beauty and rugged wilderness, it now lies ravaged under the oppressive weight of the Rotmire Blight. The air here is thick, not just with dampness and decay, but with an overwhelming sense of despair. The land itself fights against travelers, as treacherous marshlands, dense forests, and the imposing Ash Peaks loom ominously over the cursed expanse. These jagged mountains, standing defiantly at the heart of Faulmoor, conceal abandoned mines and ancient secrets within their mist-shrouded slopes.

The journey through the Weeping Fen and Siltmarsh tested the limits of my endurance. Mud and water pull at every step, and one must always be wary of what lingers beneath the surface. Disease festers in the stagnant pools, and worse yet, unnatural horrors seem drawn to the unwary.

At the heart of this forsaken land lies Valkenheim, a city that still clings to the illusion of order. Its towering walls, once meant to keep invaders at bay, now serve to hold its own people within. The Baron's rule is one of iron and isolation, the populace suffering under harsh quarantines and unrelenting scrutiny. While it remains one of the last bastions of civilization in Faulmoor, I wonder if it is truly the Blight or the city's own fear that will be its undoing.

Further to the west, Blackholt Fort has become a place of last refuge. It was once a mighty symbol of military strength, but now it groans under the weight of countless displaced souls seeking shelter. The fort’s resources are stretched thin, and desperation lingers in every corridor. In contrast, Greymire thrives in the shadows, a haven for smugglers and those who would take advantage of the desperate. If one has the coin—or the nerve—anything can be bought in Greymire, from supplies to secrets best left buried.

I passed through Oldfen, or at least, what remains of it. The town has been reduced to a graveyard, its streets haunted by the memories of those who once lived there. Similarly, Ashenmoor remains a settlement in denial, its people clinging to a future that no longer exists. In the southern reaches, the Harrowgate Ruins whisper their forgotten secrets to those willing to listen, drawing both zealots and scholars in equal measure.

The noble houses of Faulmoor remain ensnared in their ceaseless struggle for power. House Valkenmar, ruling from Valkenheim, has turned to ruthless enforcement to keep control. The people resent their heavy hand, yet none dare oppose them outright. Meanwhile, House Wilthorne, based in Ebonmere, sees opportunity in the Baron's faltering grip, quietly diverting resources and influence in their favor. Then there is House Harrowden, once insignificant, now holding wealth that makes even Valkenheim take notice. The silver veins of their domain ensure they remain relevant, though how long that will last remains to be seen.

Survival in Faulmoor is an ordeal of will. Trust is a rare commodity, and desperation breeds cruelty. And yet, as I travel these lands, I see glimmers of defiance, of hope not yet extinguished. The Rotmire Blight may have claimed much, but those who still call Faulmoor home are not yet defeated. Their battle against decay and despair is one I will not soon forget.