About Morass

Morass fills the southwestern tip of Adamah with decaying cypress, tupelo and swamp oak, muggy rain and water that hides crocodiles and blue poison frogs. Villages stand on stilts and rotting bridges. The Bane River winds past the haunted Mewling Greens toward Dead Lake, and the Sea's Solace offers a web-like passage for those brave enough to try it. Every king takes the name Akshar on coronation, and the current one, a seven-foot giant who was once a boy called Calvin, believes himself immortal.

Morass has no deity, and its people trust no one. What faith exists gathers around Freyja, a priestess of love, beauty and death, painted green with a black handprint across her face, who whispers into the king's ear and carries a pouch of poison darts. The Swamp Foxes, two hundred elite guerrilla fighters, are the kingdom's real strength. A tyrant who has already laid waste to the deserts of Betharaba is now looking north.