Fog Islands
Once true islands before the Great Dry pulled back the sea, the Fog Islands now stand as a maze of towering hills and jagged canyons shrouded in perpetual mist. Few dare to venture into their depths, for it is the domain of the Fogmen. Pale-skinned hivers with cold black or blue eyes who descend from the haze to seize travelers and beasts alike, dragging them into the labyrinth where only distant screams betray their fate. Beyond these terrors, rumors whisper of something more, ruined cities, forgotten shrines, or perhaps an entire civilization hidden within the fog. Yet no explorer has ever returned with proof, and so the heart of the Fog Islands remains an enigma, half-nightmare, half-legend.
Reports from Watcher-Threee,
Northern Vain Scout
Northern Vain Scout
First Log
The fogmen are not old. That is the part that troubles me most. Barely a century past, the hive in the mist was whole, civilized, organized, allies in trade and defense. Then, like an insect struck dead mid-step, they collapsed. No war, no famine, no warning. One day they were our friends, the next they were pale shadows, dragging prey into the fog and tearing them apart with their teeth. The change was so sudden it feels as though something was taken from them all at once, some anchor to their mind. None know why, but every drone of the Western Hive feels the disgust of looking upon them, kin, yet not.
Second Log
We fortify the northern ridges of Vain. The fog does not reach this far, but their raids do. They do not march like soldiers; they pour out like water, silent until the screams begin. My brothers burn the bodies, though the stink carries on the wind. I feel unclean after every fight.
Third Log
A question eats at me. If the fogmen were once civilized hive, how did they lose their Queen so swiftly? And how do they endure without one? They swarm like ants without order, yet still they multiply. It is unnatural. It is… wrong. They are hive without Queen, body without heart, kin without soul. It makes my carapace itch to even write it.
Fourth Log
Some of the others say the Fogmen are a warning to us. I don’t know about that. What I do know is they don’t stop coming. No Queen leads them, no order holds them, but still they pour out of the mist in numbers that shouldn’t be possible. Every raid feels the same... screams in the fog, bodies dragged off, and nothing left behind but bones. I can’t explain it, and that’s what makes my skin crawl.
Type
Natural Wonder
Local Flora
Hivewax - Found smeared on canyon walls.
Skittermoss - Found growing from long forgotten husks.
Skitter Seed - Found crawling away from long forgotten battles.
Redmeat Vine - Found growing near fresh corpses, possibly carnivorous.
Bone Vine - Found twisting through graveyards and battlefields.
Local Fauna
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