The River Heart

The River Heart is a valley choked with colossal evergreens whose branches blot out the sun. Mist clings to the forest floor, and the ground is damp and treacherous, with hidden bogs and sinkholes that swallow the careless. Crumbling ruins—broken shrines, vine-draped towers, and fragments of obsidian fortresses—dot the landscape, their foundations sinking into the earth. Few paths remain; those that do twist in endless loops, as if the forest itself resists passage.

At the edge of the forest, wildlife is still recognizable—stags, foxes, and great flocks of ravens. But the deeper one ventures, the more predatory the land becomes. Wolves and bears stalk the shadows, but they are the least of a traveler’s concerns. Owlbears and drakes hunt the game trails, while twisted plants—blighted oaks with clutching roots, thorned vines that move of their own accord—wait to ensnare prey.

Dark elves’ magics still cling to the soil, animating corpses into restless undead and feeding the presence of twisted spirits. Remnants of the Pale Wars, half-rotted soldiers and escaped infernal minior still wander the River Heart, bound to an ancient, forgotten commands. At the forest’s blackest heart, even an adult dragon has been rumored to nest, drawn by the abundance of prey and the aura of power.

The River Heart was once home to a great confederation of dark elves, orcs, and goblinoids, who carved their shrines and citadels into the forest’s roots and cliffs. For centuries, they warred with the Empire of the Sands and the high elves to the north, until at last they were driven out and their power shattered.

Though the conquerors claimed victory, none dared to linger. The land itself had been scarred—soaked in blood sacrifice, shaped by curses, and twisted by rituals meant to bind the River Heart to its people. In time, even the echoes of civilization fled. Now, the ruins stand empty of intelligent life, claimed only by beasts, spirits, and the remnants of evils best left forgotten.