This Cursed Place

This place is CURSED – bridges and roads that lead nowhere – tracks that stop abruptly at marshland eager to swallow you, boots and all – even the ancient road seems washed out after barely an hour's rain, as if it can't stand any of the constructions here, now or in the past. Weaver's Fen – ha! The Marsh is naught else but a great spider, its web the swamp itself – no wonder we've lost so many caravans to this place, and we're likely to lose dozens more. If not for the oil, one would not care at all – and to us, it hardly seems worth it to suffer the Fen's dangers if we're unlikely to ever have a home here.