Oral tales of the early American frontier tell of wasting, rotting, things. Things whose immortal blood animates them, but fails to sustain their witheringbody. Born poisoned and rotten, those of this Bloodline supplant their own flesh with that of others to stave off their anatomical entropy. Their descendants spread across the dark of the old wilderness, becoming things that festered in the wounds of the mountains and fetid silt of swamps.