The Witherplains were once the pride of central Illdoridri—an immense stretch of fertile farmland, golden fields, and thriving human settlements that fed much of the region. Today, they stand as a bleak, wind‑scorched wasteland, a stark reminder of how swiftly prosperity can collapse into desolation.
The decline began with a drought so sudden and absolute that no scholar, druid, or elemental priest could explain it. Rain clouds ceased, rivers thinned to muddy trickles, and the once‑fertile earth cracked open like parched skin. Within a single season, the farmlands were dying. Within two, they were gone.
Whispers persist of something unnatural—an unseen catalyst that originated from the small islands off the western coast. Few dare to investigate, and those who return speak of strange tides, eerie lights, and storms that form without warning. The Covenant keeps these rumors quiet, but they circulate freely among farmers, travelers, and brigands.
In the absence of life, order has eroded. The Witherplains have become a lawless expanse, ravaged by marauders, starving beasts, deserters, and rogue brigand clans drifting north from Hearthglen. With little food and fewer laws, human desperation has transformed the region into a battleground of survival.
Only one beacon of hope stands amid the ruin: Edgemill, a newly commissioned Covenant stronghold. Still under construction, its half-finished walls and skeletal towers loom over the cracked earth like the bones of a giant. Edgemill’s garrison is determined, but the sense of futility is heavy—many wonder if the stronghold’s completion will be too little, too late. The Witherplains may already be beyond saving.
Dust storms now roll across the plains like slow, suffocating waves. Abandoned farmhouses stand crooked and silent, torn apart by wind and looters. Deep fissures split the landscape, some venting hot, dry air from unknown depths. Wildlife is scarce, twisted, or desperate. Travelers report hearing eerie groans beneath the earth at night, as if the land itself is grieving. For most of Illdoridri, the Witherplains represent not just danger, but tragedy. A fallen heartland. A mystery left to rot. A warning of forces far beyond mortal control. Those who pass through do so quickly.
"Those who linger risk joining the land in its endless, silent withering."
Off the western coast of the Witherplains lies a chain of small, uninhabited islands long ignored by travelers and chart-makers. For generations, the only unusual feature was the thick kelp beds that washed ashore each season. But a decade ago, sailors began reporting something strange—dark waters, violet glows beneath the waves, and an unnatural stillness in the wind.
These were the first signs of what would later be known as the Blacktide Bloom.
The Blacktide Bloom is a unique algae-like entity born from a micro‑fissure of the Void beneath the seabed. It is neither plant nor fungus — but something in between, a parasitic lifeform that feeds on atmospheric moisture and etheric water essence.
Though small and harmless in its early stages, the bloom grew rapidly as the Void fissure widened, spreading across the shoals and waters around the western islands. Soon, the air above the islands dried to a brittle, lifeless stillness. Then the mainland began to suffer.
As the bloom expanded, it created a moisture vacuum. Rain clouds drifting inland from the ocean collapsed the moment they passed over the islands. Within weeks: Rivers feeding the Witherplains shrank, Groundwater dropped, Dry storms replaced rainfall and Entire harvest cycles collapsed. By the time farmers realized the drought wasn’t natural, it was already too late. But the Dominion noticed.
Dominion scouts operating along the Sword Coast detected the atmospheric anomaly before the Covenant ever connected the dots.
When the Dominion’s arcane tacticians realized the bloom’s potential, they sent a covert team to the islands: The Order of the Black Flame, a Necromage sub-faction skilled in Void studies.
Instead of destroying the Blacktide Bloom, they encouraged its spread by:
Their reasoning was cold and strategic:
The Witherplains were the heart of human agriculture. Turning it into a wasteland meant weakening Celestia without ever lifting a blade. And it worked.
(Last Updated on 14/12/2025)
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