Description:
is a sinister marsh herb shunned by fenwalkers and bog-herders alike. It grows in silence beneath veils of mist, its bitter scent and ink-dark roots marking it as an ill omen. Named for its habit of thriving in shadow and rot, Myrkwither is said to wither the soul as well as the body. Its poison moves slowly—seeping like the fen itself, creeping inward until the heart forgets how to beat. Few dare harvest it, save witches, oathbreakers, and those who deal in quiet ends.
Structure & Growth:
- Grows knee-high with drooping, hollow stalks and lolling umbels of violet-touched blooms
- Broad, lacy leaves with serrated edges and a waxen sheen that repels dew
- Stems are streaked with dark veins that pulse faintly when bruised
- Roots twist deep into the muck, clinging like claws to bone or stone
Color & Toxin:
- Petals fade from pale lilac to blood-violet as they mature
- Root sap is pitch-black and thick, staining skin for days
- Toxin causes numbness, then slow paralysis, followed by stillness of breath
- Boiled improperly, the fumes alone can cause fainting and fevered visions
Scent & Reaction:
- Carries a bitter, acrid scent—like boiled nettle and sour peat
- Contact with sap may cause rashes or a creeping cold in the limbs
- Used in old executions, where victims were “fed to the fen” through slow draughts
- Can be reduced into a lacquer used by assassins to blacken blades or arrowheads
Folklore:
“Where Myrkwither grows, the land remembers drowning. Some say it sprang first from the spot where a jarl’s daughter sank beneath the ice, her vengeance curling up through the bog. Fensfolk whisper that if a Myrkwither root writhes in your hand, you’ve been marked by the dead. In funerary rites, its smoke is never used—for it draws the drowned and those whose bones lie unrested. Yet some witches keep a bloom beneath their cloak, claiming it speaks truth to treachery and listens for hidden guilt.”
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