Blightburner's Story

 

Welcome to the Blightscar Marches, a Five Leagues from the Borderlands solo narrative campaign set in a grim dark world that feels like Wartales, Tainted Grail: Fall of Avalon, and Warhammer Mordheim had a filthy threesome. Hard-bitten grit. Horror-tinged low fantasy.

 The Blightscar Marches

Centuries ago the warlord Varak the Hollow dragged ten thousand souls into what is now the Unexplored Hollow and sacrificed them on a black altar fed by the green river. He wanted to bind the land to eternal victory. The earth cracked open instead and birthed the Blightwomb—a living, pulsing wound beneath the Marches, half plague-god, half hungry grave.

For generations the wound slept. People returned. They built settlements along the sickly-green river and its feeder streams. They told themselves the fog was only weather and the green water was only water. Now something has changed. Cultists chant louder. The river runs thicker. The land itself is waking up hungry.

Ironvein Trade Hub still rings with forges and the stink of pig iron. Mirefield Farms still tries to feed it with turnips and tough cattle that somehow thrive on sour soil. Blackthorn Manor still broods on the western ridge behind its blackthorn hedges. Grimford Market still opens once a month under watching oaks. Ashen Cloister still rings its bells at odd hours. Between them lie black-thorned hills, mist-shrouded woods, and places that suck at boots and remember blood.

Into this came six outsiders looking for iron, coin, and whatever glory a rotting frontier might still offer.

They met in the smoky Black Boar Inn three hard days north of the border. Sigrid Vale, bastard sword across her back and fire in her blood. Rose Blackthorn, long and lean with a centuries-old grudge and a fencing blade that already knew how to kill nobles. Dust, the quiet Halfling who moved like smoke and shot like he meant it. Old Grimwald, grey and cynical, come to look the Blightwomb in the eye. Then Garric Hale and Finn Vey joined after a tavern brawl—steel, blood, and a shared table sealed it.

They call themselves the Blightburners. They ride together. They split the spoils. They burn whatever needs burning.

Turn Zero – How the Blightburners Came Together Four northerners, two local hard cases, one bloody tavern fight, and a pact sealed in spilled ale. The warband is forged. The Marches wait. Read it here

 

 

Turn One – Mirefield Farms and the Roadside Fight They ride into sour fields under a sickly sky. An ogre contract. A missing hunter. Robbers at a roadside ruin. Steel, blood, a rescued woman, and a note sealed in green wax that changes everything. Read it here

 

Turn Two – The Ogre The lair stinks of old meat and sour earth. Sigrid goes down hard. Rose finishes the job with a final thrust under the jaw. Finn levels up in the aftermath. The Womb still hungers. Read it here

Turn Three – Cruel Deserters at the Crumbling Inn Curse of War filth holed up in a rotting wayside inn with a captive farmer. Snow on the ground. Arrows from the rafters. Sigrid’s bastard sword opens throats. The threat drops. A new friend is made. Read it here

 

 

Turns Four & Five – Onward to Ironvein and the Weight of the New Moon They leave Mirefield under a bruised sky. The Curse of War is quieter. The note still burns. They reach the trade hub, take a new contract, and turn northwest toward the mist and the Hollow. Read it here

 

 

 

Turn Five – Horror in the Hollow Mist, ruins, traps, flying vermin, and vile worms. Sigrid claims the Verdant Fang from a withered corpse. Grimwald goes down. Silvertree leaf keeps him breathing. They climb out bloodier and richer, contract complete, new map mark waiting north near Grimford. Read it here

 

Current Status The Blightburners ride toward the shrine named in the robber captain’s bloodstained note — a quest now burning in Sigrid’s pouch. The Womb still hungers. The new moon draws close.

Thanks for reading this far!