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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4148927" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Cut Throat's Gold - Part 2a: Landfall</strong></p><p></p><p>The Sulfur Marsh was a steaming, stinking pile of vegetation, mounds of earth, spiky brush, and trees with arching roots. Small clusters of islands were huddled together here and there. All throughout, the stench of sulfur suffused the air.</p><p></p><p>“So…why aren’t we taking a boat into Sulfur Marsh?” Ilmarė gingerly stepped from sucking pool of water to bubbling puddle of mud.</p><p></p><p>“Won’t work,” the ss’ressen shook his head. “The water is deep in some places, shallow in others.”</p><p></p><p>“Great,” Kham looked over at Dril. “Well, judging by the stench of this place, we’re going to have to be very careful about firing any flintlocks.”</p><p></p><p>“Why?” Vlad had sheathed the dwarven-forged blade Grungronazharr in favor of the ssanu Vrosh’s spear. He used it to poke about in the marsh and shove aside vegetation.</p><p></p><p>“Sulfur is a key ingredient in blackpowder,” explained Kham. “Mix it with the explosion from a pistol and we all go boom.”</p><p></p><p>Dril adjusted the rifle over his shoulder. “If it comes to that, I’ll take my chances.”</p><p></p><p>“That’s why the Black Talon ss’ressen live here,” said Vlad. “No Milandisians want this territory.”</p><p></p><p>Sebastian stumbled along behind the rest of them. “I can see why.” He scratched at himself every few seconds. An array of oddly colored bumps were scattered over his face.</p><p></p><p>“I told you not to touch anything,” said Cal. “The ashûussaalliiss plant can’t penetrate ss’ressen skin. But it can hurt weaker races.”</p><p></p><p>Dril shot Cal a glare. “Weaker races?”</p><p></p><p>Bijoux’s head hung upside-down in front of Dril. “He means races that are not as hardy.” She was gliding from branch to branch above them.</p><p></p><p>“Bah!” said Beldin, stumping along up to his chest in the muck. “Dwarves could survive in the swamp. They just don’t want to. The elder races knew where to make their homes, right Ilmarė?”</p><p></p><p>Beldin was answered with silence.</p><p></p><p>“Ilmarė?”</p><p></p><p>Everyone turned to look. There was only a small pool of bubbles where Ilmarė had stood moments before. </p><p></p><p>“Thûdhiis!” snapped Cal.</p><p></p><p>“What?” asked Dril.</p><p></p><p>“Quicksand!” shouted Beldin just before he too went under.</p><p></p><p>“Damn it,” shouted Kham. “Did we lose the elf again?”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4148927, member: 3285"] [b]Cut Throat's Gold - Part 2a: Landfall[/b] The Sulfur Marsh was a steaming, stinking pile of vegetation, mounds of earth, spiky brush, and trees with arching roots. Small clusters of islands were huddled together here and there. All throughout, the stench of sulfur suffused the air. “So…why aren’t we taking a boat into Sulfur Marsh?” Ilmarė gingerly stepped from sucking pool of water to bubbling puddle of mud. “Won’t work,” the ss’ressen shook his head. “The water is deep in some places, shallow in others.” “Great,” Kham looked over at Dril. “Well, judging by the stench of this place, we’re going to have to be very careful about firing any flintlocks.” “Why?” Vlad had sheathed the dwarven-forged blade Grungronazharr in favor of the ssanu Vrosh’s spear. He used it to poke about in the marsh and shove aside vegetation. “Sulfur is a key ingredient in blackpowder,” explained Kham. “Mix it with the explosion from a pistol and we all go boom.” Dril adjusted the rifle over his shoulder. “If it comes to that, I’ll take my chances.” “That’s why the Black Talon ss’ressen live here,” said Vlad. “No Milandisians want this territory.” Sebastian stumbled along behind the rest of them. “I can see why.” He scratched at himself every few seconds. An array of oddly colored bumps were scattered over his face. “I told you not to touch anything,” said Cal. “The ashûussaalliiss plant can’t penetrate ss’ressen skin. But it can hurt weaker races.” Dril shot Cal a glare. “Weaker races?” Bijoux’s head hung upside-down in front of Dril. “He means races that are not as hardy.” She was gliding from branch to branch above them. “Bah!” said Beldin, stumping along up to his chest in the muck. “Dwarves could survive in the swamp. They just don’t want to. The elder races knew where to make their homes, right Ilmarė?” Beldin was answered with silence. “Ilmarė?” Everyone turned to look. There was only a small pool of bubbles where Ilmarė had stood moments before. “Thûdhiis!” snapped Cal. “What?” asked Dril. “Quicksand!” shouted Beldin just before he too went under. “Damn it,” shouted Kham. “Did we lose the elf again?” [/QUOTE]
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