I've started work on a hexcrawl. It's swamp, but also some hills and a small peninsula.
It is said that there is a bright green star that can be seen from no where else in the world. It burns in the southern sky, as constant as an emerald on black felt.
It is said that the bog mermaids have begun to return from the cold slime in which they slumbered. They blink their dark eyes at the humans in their land. Their sharp teeth speak languages that have been dead for centuries.
It is said that farms have gone dry, and violence spills from the earth. It is no longer safe to travel alone.
It is said that the city of Angelspit is sinking into the bog, while the dullard inhabitants sit on their heels, placidly eating frogs and snails.
It is said that the Tree Palace of the Ape King grows higher every day. The ruler of that place grows fat with tribute brought from pirates.
It is said that panthers speak all the tongues of the world, and use this gift to charm their prey.
It is said that the sprites speak of something called the Fragrant Mother. (Or perhaps the Odorous Woman. Or perhaps the Perfumed Vagina. Their patois is a bit thick.)
It is said that fossils have been discovered in the earth, and an elf has come to excavate them.
It is said that a cult has been discovered in the city of Angelspit. The heretics have been hung and their nest of sin has been burned. Yet something remains, hesitating like a voice on the wind.
It is said that a witch is poisoning the whole swamp with her necromancy, and is responsible for an outbreak of bilge shivers.
It is said that serpents have been seen migrating through the swamp toward some singular destination, as if of one mind.
It is said that echoes of metal and industry have begun to ring out from the dark halls in the hills.
It is said that a sea witch has begun to prey on passing ships with a mixture of magic and whales, one of which she rides inside.
It is said that the man who leads the poachers does not bleed nor sleep. Their traps have taken on a stranger and deadlier turn.