In the northern reaches of the Hool Marsh, lies the Drowned Forest, a place of still waters, dead trees, and creeping decay.

Once a thriving woodland of oak, ash, and cypress, this region began to die when the marsh slowly consumed it. Over the decades, the rising waters from the Hool Marsh and the Dunwater River drowned the roots of the forest, transforming it into a stagnant wasteland. The air is thick with humidity and spores, the silence broken only by the croak of frogs and the slow drip of water from branch to pool.

The Dunwater River cuts through the heart of the Drowned Forest, its once-clear current now sluggish and brown. Even bandits and smugglers will not venture into the Drowned Forest. The first sight of dead cypress and fungus-cloaked trees marks the border of a cursed land. To those who know the river, this is the sign to turn back.

The trees stand like skeletal sentinel, grey, barkless trunks rising from dark water. Tangled roots twist through the mud, glowing moss, lichen, and mushroom caps spread across the landscape. A constant fog of spores blots out the sun, casting the entire forest in a sickly half-light.

Locals whisper that the Drowned Forest is alive, a place where death and decay have given rise to something unnatural. Fungal blooms pulse faintly at night, and travelers who venture into the forest never return.