Baelmarsh

Baelmarsh
Spirit	Baelon
Significance	A land that remembers; what is lost is never truly gone.

Baelmarsh is a realm of still waters, tangled roots, and the weight of memory. It is a land where time does not erase but preserves, where the past lingers beneath the silt and waits to be uncovered.

Here, villages stand long after their inhabitants are gone, their doorways yawning, their lanterns unburnt. Ancient roads vanish into the mire, yet footsteps still echo upon them. Ruins remain half-sunken, not crumbling but waiting—as if their stories are not yet finished.

Baelmarsh is not a land of decay. It is a land of unfinished endings.

History

The history of Baelmarsh is not written—it is buried. Unlike other realms, whose pasts are shaped by war and conquest, Baelmarsh’s past is silent, sunken, and preserved beneath its waters.

Once, there were cities here. The marsh did not destroy them—it simply kept them. Some say the ruins belonged to an ancient kingdom whose name has been swallowed by time, its rulers and poets lost beneath the reeds. Others whisper that Baelmarsh was always as it is now—a place where what is forgotten lingers, waiting to be unearthed.

The deeper one goes, the more history is uncovered—not lost, merely waiting.

Geography

Baelmarsh stretches across the southwestern edge of the continent, bordered by the plains of Vaelthar to the east and the forests of Celyndor to the north. Unlike the shifting dunes of Zanarak, Baelmarsh does not change—it holds.

The land is a vast, stagnant expanse of sodden glades, flooded ruins, and still-black rivers whose waters seem to drink the light. Pale mists coil through ancient trees, clinging to broken watchtowers and temples long abandoned. Beneath the mire, entire settlements rest, undisturbed yet whole, as if waiting for the day they will be remembered.

Notable Landmarks

The Drowned Wolds – Moss-covered stone ridges, rising like broken spines from the water. Some say they were once the walls of a forgotten city.
The Mireglass Expanse – A still, mirror-like lake where reflections show not just the present, but glimpses of what once was.
The Sable Flow – A black river that moves against the natural currents, as if drawn toward something unseen.
The Weeping Hollows – Towering, ancient trees whose trunks have split open, trickling dark water. Some claim the trees remember names, whispering them into the wind.

Climate

Baelmarsh is heavy with moisture and heat, its air thick with mist and the scent of moss, earth, and still water. The seasons do not shift sharply—there is no true winter, only a colder wetness, no true summer, only a denser heat.

Rain is frequent, but never in torrents—a slow, steady fall, as if the sky itself weeps for something long forgotten. Fog coils through the marsh even on clear days, and at night, the land is awash in dim, bioluminescent glows from unseen sources.

Flora and fauna

Baelmarsh is filled with life that lingers, endures, and mutates in time.

Flora

Lantern-Trees – Gnarled roots with pale, bioluminescent fungi, casting soft blue and violet light. They are never found in the same place twice.
Veilvines – Long, whisper-thin vines that drift upon the water’s surface, curling around anything that lingers too long.
Drownroot Blooms – Heavy-petaled flowers that grow from submerged ruins, their scent known to induce sleep or visions.

Fauna

The Mirekin – Figures glimpsed at the water’s edge, watching but never seen approaching.
Sable Eels – Ink-black, slow-moving eels that can grow as thick as tree trunks, their presence marked only by the absence of sound.
Glass-Faced Stags – Creatures seen only when the mist is thickest, their antlers entwined with glowing moss, their faces like perfect mirrors. Those who gaze into them see themselves as they could have been—or as they never should be.

Native Sophants

Baelmarsh does not welcome outsiders, and few truly live within it. Those who do are not merely residents; they are part of the land itself, shaped by its endless memory.

The Lurathi – Keepers of the Unforgotten

The Lurathi are a **strange and solemn people**, their forms reminiscent of **great, tusked beasts**, their faces long and narrow, their curved tusks arching toward their foreheads like spirals of polished ivory. Their skin is thick, ridged like the roots of ancient trees, marked with **lines that grow deeper with age**, like the growth rings of a felled trunk.

No one knows when the Lurathi first came to Baelmarsh—perhaps they have always been here. They **do not build cities, nor do they carve their names into stone**. Instead, they carry their history **within themselves**, their memories passed down through word and ritual. It is said that **a Lurathi never forgets**, that they can recall the **footsteps of their ancestors as clearly as their own.**

They live in **hollows of drowned trees, upon the ruins of cities long gone**, tending to places that no longer have names. To them, nothing is lost—only waiting to be found again.

It is said that if you ask a Lurathi the name of a ruin, they can tell you not only what it was, but **the color of its banners, the sound of its streets, and the words of the last prayer spoken within its walls.**

The Siltborn – Those Who Linger

The Siltborn are not a people. They are a fate.

No one is born a Siltborn—they **become**.

There are those who enter Baelmarsh and **forget to leave**. Perhaps they linger too long in a place that remembers too much. Perhaps they listen to a whisper **they should not have heard.** Whatever the reason, the marsh claims them—not as corpses, but as something else.

A Siltborn does not decay. Their skin turns cold and gray, their eyes take on the **milky sheen of waterlogged bone.** They no longer hunger, nor do they tire. Their voices are soft and thick, as though spoken from beneath the water’s surface.

They do not attack, nor do they flee. They simply **wander.**

Some say the Siltborn are not truly aware—that they are **shadows of the past**, half-formed memories wearing flesh. Others claim they are still alive, just... **stretched thin**, caught between what was and what is.

It is said that a Siltborn can **lead you to things thought lost—but at the cost of something you will not realize you have given.**

---

Notable settlements

Though Baelmarsh has few permanent cities, there are places where people linger.

Blackwater Rest – A settlement built atop a series of half-submerged ruins, where travelers stop only to leave again.
Harrowmere – A gathering of floating dwellings, home to the Driftborn and their ever-moving way of life.
The Weeping Hold – A fortress, long abandoned yet perfectly intact. No one knows who built it—or why.

Cultural significance

Baelmarsh is a land of unanswered questions, a place where history is preserved but never explained. To scholars, it is a realm of forbidden knowledge—to mystics, a place where the past speaks.

Rituals and Beliefs

The Still-Watch – At dusk, travelers stop moving, listening to the marsh as it echoes with distant voices.
The Bone Offering – Some leave tokens of the dead in the marsh, believing that Baelon will keep their memories intact.

Mythology and legends

Baelmarsh is a place of lost things, and many who enter do so in search of something forgotten.

The Half-Sunken Archive

A drowned library, its halls hidden beneath the roots of an enormous tree. The books are preserved, but their ink shifts when read, revealing truths that were never meant to be remembered.

The Mouth of the Mire

A black chasm of still water, said to be the heart of Baelmarsh. No sound returns from its depths, and those who stare into it for too long claim to see figures watching from beneath the surface.

The Hollow Procession

A ghostly parade seen on rare mist-laden nights—figures in tattered finery, walking a path no one can follow. Some say they were kings and courtiers of a kingdom that never was.