Desdichado
Hero
Module I: "Blasphemous Rumours" Part IX
The mist which already overwhelmed them became even thicker as they approached the swamp. Visibility dropped to only a few feet in front of them; the world disappearing into a vast, fetid and humid muted grayness on all sides. Dark trees; slick with green moss and humidity rose like haunted standing stones out of the fog, and they had to step very carefully to avoid the gaping pools that appeared suddenly in front of them to stare balefully and hungrily at them.
They could hear strange slurping sounds from time to time, which fell like dead things to the ground, muffled by the oppressive mist. Konrad kept them moving very slowly. The trail was easy enough to follow, but the ground was constantly suspect. He also stopped frequently to look around. Soon, Tson and Rosham started catching his nervousness. "Are we expecting something to jump out at us?" Tson whispered to Konrad after a particularly long pause.
"Yeah," said Konrad, pulling up his sword and gesturing forward, his eyes glued on the mist ahead. Tson and Rosham readied their weapons as well, peering intently into the mist, not sure what they should be looking for. Then they saw the first hints of movement; a darker gray against the otherwise featureless gray wall around them. Then figures starting appearing slowly. At first, they looked like thin people, but then their ghastly features became more noticeable. They looked like corpses; thin, emaciated, skeletal with just stinking rags of flesh left on them, but they were covered in dark, swampy moss and lichens. Their teeth and nails were elongated and hard as iron, dripping with a sickly black ichor. "Oh, and I'd keep an eye out for those claws; those look nasty," he added.
Konrad, Tson and Rosham rushed to attack the shambling creatures before they could get them first. Konrad's pistol sounded dull and dead in the misty blanket that surrounded them, but he blew the head off of one creature. Tson's chain slashed two more, but he grunted in pain as the black-dripping claws raked his back, steaming and hissing with their vile poison. Rosham found it difficult to hurt them much with his rapier, as the blade slid easily through their bones and desiccated flesh without doing much damage. He ducked out of the way, picked up a large rotting log and swung it like a heavy club at one of the corpses. It fell apart with a heavy thud as the log slammed into its ribcage, but his log also split with the sweet smell of rotted wood. He looked up from his broken log to see two more of the shuffling creatures bearing down on him.
"Time for a little tactical maneuver," he said to himself as be ran away. A little out of the creature's shambling range, he dropped to his hands and knees, digging through the rotting leaves on the ground for another log.
Tson was bleeding and steaming from a number of gashes, as he had been heavily surrounded by the creatures, but he was carefully whittling them down like so much dried firewood. Konrad had struggled as well; several of the creatures were trying to push him under the water. He fought them off as Rosham came back with his log, pounding them down. Finally, panting, covered with black slime, stinking black mud, and dried leaves, the three stood up, their weapons lowered, the last of the swamp corpses destroyed. The Konrad's eyes narrowed again.
"There!" he snarled. An elderly man with a scowl on his face had been watching them, and on seeing them overcome the swamp corpses, he sneered, but turned and ran off into the swamp. Rosham, Tson and Konrad hurried after him, into a small, mud-covered hut that he hadn't seen earlier through the mist. As Tson burst through the door, a horrible screeching sound like rending and twisting metal shrieked through the air. Black tendrils of life-sucking energy blasted through Tson's form, and he doubled over in agony.
Then Konrad bashed the head in of the old man and the tendrils stopped. "OK there, then?" he asked Tson, who nodded grimly as he stood back up.
They proceeded to ransack the hut for any clues. In a rank cellar, they found more moldering bodies, some being fitted with strange, rusted iron fists and tubes, just as the creatures that had been described attacking the caravans.
Rosham found a book and a clay tablet that immediately sparked his interest, although looking at them for even a moment made him feel dizzy and slightly nauseous. He quickly put both in a spare pouch for examination later.
"Aha!" shouted Konrad from the other end of the house. He had apparently found a watercolor portrait of a dark gray-skinned woman with no hair, as drawn by an apparently loving admirer. "Looks like our old necromancer here had a sweeter side to him after all!" he laughed. The portrait was labeled Abarraine. "So now we have a name to go along with the elusive murderer of all those caravan guards." But the real jackpot was in the notes below the portrait, which referred to a hideout of sorts below ground at the wellhead that was the source of the Wellhead Swamp. Looking at those notes, Tson was grim. "I think it's time to put an end to all this... after we have Elroy patch us up a bit first, of course."
The mist which already overwhelmed them became even thicker as they approached the swamp. Visibility dropped to only a few feet in front of them; the world disappearing into a vast, fetid and humid muted grayness on all sides. Dark trees; slick with green moss and humidity rose like haunted standing stones out of the fog, and they had to step very carefully to avoid the gaping pools that appeared suddenly in front of them to stare balefully and hungrily at them.
They could hear strange slurping sounds from time to time, which fell like dead things to the ground, muffled by the oppressive mist. Konrad kept them moving very slowly. The trail was easy enough to follow, but the ground was constantly suspect. He also stopped frequently to look around. Soon, Tson and Rosham started catching his nervousness. "Are we expecting something to jump out at us?" Tson whispered to Konrad after a particularly long pause.
"Yeah," said Konrad, pulling up his sword and gesturing forward, his eyes glued on the mist ahead. Tson and Rosham readied their weapons as well, peering intently into the mist, not sure what they should be looking for. Then they saw the first hints of movement; a darker gray against the otherwise featureless gray wall around them. Then figures starting appearing slowly. At first, they looked like thin people, but then their ghastly features became more noticeable. They looked like corpses; thin, emaciated, skeletal with just stinking rags of flesh left on them, but they were covered in dark, swampy moss and lichens. Their teeth and nails were elongated and hard as iron, dripping with a sickly black ichor. "Oh, and I'd keep an eye out for those claws; those look nasty," he added.
Konrad, Tson and Rosham rushed to attack the shambling creatures before they could get them first. Konrad's pistol sounded dull and dead in the misty blanket that surrounded them, but he blew the head off of one creature. Tson's chain slashed two more, but he grunted in pain as the black-dripping claws raked his back, steaming and hissing with their vile poison. Rosham found it difficult to hurt them much with his rapier, as the blade slid easily through their bones and desiccated flesh without doing much damage. He ducked out of the way, picked up a large rotting log and swung it like a heavy club at one of the corpses. It fell apart with a heavy thud as the log slammed into its ribcage, but his log also split with the sweet smell of rotted wood. He looked up from his broken log to see two more of the shuffling creatures bearing down on him.
"Time for a little tactical maneuver," he said to himself as be ran away. A little out of the creature's shambling range, he dropped to his hands and knees, digging through the rotting leaves on the ground for another log.
Tson was bleeding and steaming from a number of gashes, as he had been heavily surrounded by the creatures, but he was carefully whittling them down like so much dried firewood. Konrad had struggled as well; several of the creatures were trying to push him under the water. He fought them off as Rosham came back with his log, pounding them down. Finally, panting, covered with black slime, stinking black mud, and dried leaves, the three stood up, their weapons lowered, the last of the swamp corpses destroyed. The Konrad's eyes narrowed again.
"There!" he snarled. An elderly man with a scowl on his face had been watching them, and on seeing them overcome the swamp corpses, he sneered, but turned and ran off into the swamp. Rosham, Tson and Konrad hurried after him, into a small, mud-covered hut that he hadn't seen earlier through the mist. As Tson burst through the door, a horrible screeching sound like rending and twisting metal shrieked through the air. Black tendrils of life-sucking energy blasted through Tson's form, and he doubled over in agony.
Then Konrad bashed the head in of the old man and the tendrils stopped. "OK there, then?" he asked Tson, who nodded grimly as he stood back up.
They proceeded to ransack the hut for any clues. In a rank cellar, they found more moldering bodies, some being fitted with strange, rusted iron fists and tubes, just as the creatures that had been described attacking the caravans.
Rosham found a book and a clay tablet that immediately sparked his interest, although looking at them for even a moment made him feel dizzy and slightly nauseous. He quickly put both in a spare pouch for examination later.
"Aha!" shouted Konrad from the other end of the house. He had apparently found a watercolor portrait of a dark gray-skinned woman with no hair, as drawn by an apparently loving admirer. "Looks like our old necromancer here had a sweeter side to him after all!" he laughed. The portrait was labeled Abarraine. "So now we have a name to go along with the elusive murderer of all those caravan guards." But the real jackpot was in the notes below the portrait, which referred to a hideout of sorts below ground at the wellhead that was the source of the Wellhead Swamp. Looking at those notes, Tson was grim. "I think it's time to put an end to all this... after we have Elroy patch us up a bit first, of course."
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