Region: MOTHER MARSH (Tiles: L, R, Q, U, V, W)
MOTHER MARSH (Tiles: L, R, Q, U, V, W) The wetlands stretch from Mother's Bay to the mouth of Father's Way River—naming that tells you who's been mapping here. Canoe Folk call it home. Imperial surveyors call it impenetrable. Both are right. This is maze navigation through braided waterways, where SCOBY mounds breathe in the fog and Memory Mother's presence presses close enough to touch. The dead don't leave here—they're preserved in fungal tissue, accessible through communion. Ancestral memories run thick. Marsh Folk build stilt houses above the water and have for generations. They know which channels open with spring melt, which shortcuts appear in drought, where the solid ground hides. Without a guide, you're lost in hours. The waterways look identical. Landmarks shift. The sun-crows that gather to watch you realize this before you do. They'll follow for days, mimicking your conversations, calling predators, waiting for exhaustion to set in. Fort St. Bastion (Tile V) sits on a tiny island in this region—a European-style fort, surprisingly populous, stubbornly colonial. It supplies expeditions that vanish into the marsh. Winter Crest Island (Tile W) is sacred to the Ulutak people. Trespass there at your peril. The marsh protects itself. It drowns roads. It rots equipment. It swallows those who don't belong. What you need: Canoe. Marsh Folk guide. Respect for what the dead remember.