the Things the Marsh Remembers ((Closed to Archanex))

[DarkDelights]

((most of my posts will be about half this size. I'm just getting back in the swing of things and the first one came out long))

“Now now my love, we'll be there by nightfall, don't you worry,” the scaled wagoneer spoke soothingly to his wife who sat uncomfortably on a straw pillow, leaning on her husband for moral support. The wagon jostled violently and the woman blanched. “Coddswallop!” the dracari wagoneer cursed. “I'm sorry Pet, its just... Its like someone pulled up every second brick! By the Four, I don't toil like a slave so those winged toads can just neglect the damn roads!” The human woman groaned again, loudly this time, but was cut short by the howling of a wolf in the distance. She looked about, startled, but not frightened, for they were stout farmers both and the countryside was their domain. They had not, however, been in the country side for some hours now. Surrounded by willow trees on both sides, their pale green branches hanging nearly to the ground like a lady's frock and glistening from the last rain, neither traveller could see from where the howls came. It seemed far enough off and there was no cause for panic.

The dragon-man was no different in form than any human male, save that his skin was covered in scales, a deep, rich brass in color, and his eyes were like molten gold, with black vertical slits in place of pupils. His fingers ended in cracked, blunt claws that he skritched affectionately on the woman's bulging tummy to sooth her as the wolves bantered behind the veil of willows, this time further off. The dracari smiled, his brown lips parted exposing slightly pointed teeth. The pair of Suthainnian draft horses which pulled the laden wagon along - whether it wanted to follow or not – had been a good investment. The towering beasts were more than enough to scare away a small pack of wolves. He touched his wife's belly again, still smiling.

One of the black draft horses whinnied, reared, and the heavy wagon halted. The golden-eyed serf peered down the road, thankful the mists of earlier had dissapated. The road forked up ahead, left and right, and a weatherbeaten signpost as big as a totem pole stood in the center of the intersection. Driving his agitated horses slowly, he approached the small clearning where the cobblestone road split three ways, and examined the waypoint pillar, frowning. It seemed to have been defaced. No useful information was legible, replaced with lewd graffiti and carven scoundrel poetry. He caught his wife sniffing the air with great interest from the corner of his eye, and then he too caught wind of the aroma. Grilled leeks. Stewed tomatoe. And something else. Mint?

“Hail, friends!”

Both figures on the forefront of the wagon sat upright, a sudden chill creeping up their backs that not even the ominous howling of wolves had achieved, and the horses huffed again in alarm.

“Won't you join me for a meal?”

-

Harchibald fluffed the straw pillow for his wife who gratefully repositioned herself on the fallen tree, working the straw with her behind 'til it suited her.

“You two are too much. If that isn't true love, I don't know what is,” honeyed words flowed out of a dark, shapely mouth. “how far along did you say you were Melinda?”

The pregnant human absently rubbed her large belly and smiled. “I'm due at the end of the month,” she looked up dreamily. “It's twins.”

“You are surely charmed by the fey, good woman,” the third traveller spoke through the smile she wore as a mask. There was a brief uncomfortable silence as Harchibald and Melinda sat on the fallen tree. The human woman fussed with some mud on the hem of her white linen dress, and adjusted her puffy bonet needlessly while her dragonkin husband's eyes wandered. The newcomer bent over low, the hem of her form fitting black dress rising, and stirred a small kettle on the campfire she had been maintaining all day, her back to the wed couple. Black smoke from the damp firewood drifted lazily into the willow branches that surrounded the small clearing to the side of the fork. Harchibald checked himself as he realized he was staring, and cleared his throat with a rumble, attempting to rekindle the dying conversation.

“You know, you frightened us,” he said with a throaty chuckle. “We didn't see you there. What did you say your name was again, miss...”

“I didn't.”

“I beg your pardon?” the seated reptilian asked.

“I didn't tell you my name,” the camper said, standing up from the cooking fire with a wooden ladel in her hand. It still dripped with hot brown stew. She turned once more to face the couple, flashing a broad, toothy smile. “Almost ready!”

“Great, because I'm starving,” Melinda spoke up cheerily. “I didn't even realize how hungry I was until you invited us to share your lunch.” In truth, it was her husband who had accepted the invitation, and Melinda didn't like the woman much, dispite her apparent generosity. She didn't like how she had tried on more than one occasion to touch her belly. She didn't like the way she “bounced” when she giggled at her husband's silly jokes. Plus her breath was foul. Still, Melinda hadnt eaten since supper the night prior, skipping breakfast in favor of making good time to Suthainn. She scolded herself, thinking so poorly of someone who was about to feed a pair of hungry travellers.

“Yes, I think its done,” the woodland gormand said, bringing her palms together excitedly. She turned around again, obscuring the view of the kettle for just long enough to loosen the phlegm from the back of her throat and drop the yellow loogie into the roiling stew with a barely audible 'plop'. With one more generous stir, she doled out a generous portion into a pair of wooden bowls with tin spoons already within. Harchibald rubbed his scaled hands together enthusiastically as she handed out the food.

“Thank you very much!” the dracari said graciously, his wife seconding the notion. “So, as I was saying earlier... Oh! Haaaashhhh-haaaa... Hot. Mmm, that's quite good. Hot. So as I was saying, we decided that as the big day draws near, it would be more practical to move to Suthainn and be nearer to the midwife. So after settling our affairs, we packed our worldly belongings onto the wagon, and here we are! Say, is that coney I taste?”

“Caught it in the marsh this morning,” the cook said, pleased her food was being well received. She made her way to her seat on a willow stump where her still-steaming earthernware mug sat nearby. She picked it up and pressed it to her lips, slurping noisily and exhaling profoundly.

“Say, are you not eating?” they asked her.

“Oh, I've already had my fill, please, indulge yourselves. There's more than enough.” It wasn't completely a lie. She had eaten earlier that morning, just before dawn. She happened across a cluster of peculiar mushrooms with violet caps and white speckles. She greedily consumed the largest of them, and decided she would keep the rest for tea. Her pupils were still dialated from its effects, but her dining companions had never met her brilliant green eyes long enough to notice. She crossed her legs femininely and took another long pull from her mug. “So you're going to the city. That's too bad. The bridge is in such disrepair. I don't know if it would hold your wagon. In fact, I'm certain it will not.”

The pair looked up from their already empty bowls and eyed eachother. The bridge being out could mean another three days of travel including the back tracking they would have to do to get back out of the marsh's fringes. Noticing their concern, their host lowered her mug and smiled warmly. “Don't despair yet, you can simply take the other road. It may add another day to your travel, its true. But after it passes under the bridge, it eventually rejoins the main road further along! The lady will be nesting in your new home before supper time tomorrow!”

“Truly?” they asked in unison, their spirits lifting. Melinda raised an eyebrow as the cook got up again to collect their bowls for a refill. She noted the light, and very unnecessary brush of a finger along the contour of her husband's muscled shoulder as she passed. “I've lived here a long time and I can't recall anyone ever using the left road. Where does it even go?”

The woman shrugged after bringing their seconds, and then helped herself to a seat next to Harchibald, mug in hand. He could catch wiffs of the pungent tea mixed with her personal scent of marsh lily and... something else. Something both earthy and unsettling at the same time. “People lived on the cusp of the marsh, once. It was a long time ago though. You may even see some of the ruins of old houses reclaimed by the swamp.” She did not miss the questioning looks between the guests at her campsite. “But the road was built on a causeway above the water and I'm certain your wagon will have no trouble navigating it,” she shrugged. "If you're afraid, simply go whence you came. Take some stew to keep you warm on the extra days of travel.” She loosened the black slipper off her heel and dangled it with her toes, ever so lightly brushing her heel against Harchibald's leg. “Or, stay here tonight, decide in the morning, and share my camp.” Melinda did not miss the gesture that came with the invitation.

“Well, thank you so much for lunch. Really, it was so nice of you. But the day wears on and I can't bear the thought of sleeping in the wagon for more than one more night. I'm sure the side-road will suit our wagon fine. The horses are strong and Harchibald is a master of wagon steering, and we'll get by.” She rose with effort, grabbing Harchibald's blue tunic and almost flinging him off the fallen tree and away from the strange woman.

“Master,” the hostess parroted the word silently, only moving her luscious lips while maintaining intense eye-contact with the handsome dragonkin. She shrugged again, feeling her stomach turn as the tea began to hit her. She pouted dramatically. “Well then, I shan't keep you a moment longer!”

The trio slowly walked the very short distance through the willows back to the fork where the wagon and draft horses patiently awaited their return. Melinda practically pushed Harchibald to the wagon as he stuttered his way through a final thank you and farewell.

“Keep the marsh to your left shoulder, and don't let your horses drink of its water. About two or three hours down, you should find a pool on your right. Its waters are cold and clean, and you can fill your canteens there. Safe travels my friends,” she practically spat the words through the veneer of her smile. The couple, resituated in their wagon, raised their hands in good-bye, then made their way left at the fork, speaking rapidly in hushed, heated voices, leaving the woman alone on the street. She stood motionless, still smiling as the cart clattered out of view. She felt a wonderful numbness creep into her fingers, and whimsy took her. The delicate tips of her fingers found the edges of a loose brick in the road, and she began to pry while singing melodiously.

Here today, and gone today,
Fed and watered, led astray.
Now it's the Kotaj's tax you'll pay,

In blood and tears and screams you'll pay,
the Kotaj's tax, without delay.
Fed, and feeding, profusely bleeding,
While I sing the day away.

While I sing and wait for more,
Travellers who's feet are sore.
So many visitors at my home's door,
So many travellers whos feet are sore,
Unaware they'll soon be gore,

She grunted with satisfaction as the brick came free from the road, worsening its condition. She threw the cobblestone over her shoulder and into the brush with a flourish and a pirouette on her "slippered" toes.

The Kotaj will feed upon that whore!

She cackled feverishly, then, calm and sober as a chaplain, went to work on the next loose brick.

[Archanex]

It was a side job that lead them all the way out to Dheathain.

The mistress looked at Archanex for a long moment that morning. "If the information was not valid, we would not be out here."

Archanex looked away for a moment, considering all that had happened of late to them. "If you command it, I will go."

"No hesitation at this point?" She asked of him, she wanted to be absolutely certain.

"As you say, if the information is reliable it is worth looking into the location of the relic." Archanex rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

She frowned a moment. "You are my favorite play thing. I don't wish to harm you anymore than necessary, but, for certain things you are expendable as well You are more competent than the other members of my guild here."

In other words, she was trusting him to have the job done to the letter. Archanex thought about what he was hearing. "When do you want me to part to the location of the relic?" He asked of her.

"As soon as you are able to." The mistress said calmly.

***

Archanex, took a look back at the safe house in the small town owned by the guild. It was well away from any of the Dheathain main cities, done deliberately. So they could do their dark deeds without too many eyes on them. He kept his staff with him at all times, he was always an older gentleman. He'd physically aged much sooner than most of his people do, but was in incredible physical good shape.

He used his staff as a walking stick, and after having memorized the map he'd been given in it's entirety...he made sure to destroy the evidence. There was never any physical evidence with the jobs of their guild. Very little ways to track back to the safe house without considerable effort on someone's behalf. He narrowed his eyes and started to walk forward...

A wind came in from the west. The marshland that surrounded them was full of many dangers, so he had to be weary. He personally doubted the relic would be found, but he wanted to make sure the mistress's source was completely accurate. It would prove invaluable information in the layout of the new land. Archanex was an outsider to Althanas looking in...

He was impressed with how many diversified regions there were on that planet...

[DarkDelights]

Even with both hands, she had a hard time dragging the relatively small stew pot, still over half full. She dragged it from the small campsite to the road, and after stopping for a moment to catch her breath, she began the process of dumping it in a line at the base of the willow trees.

“Here, doggy doggy doggies, come get some of the nice meal I've prepared for you,” she said with a husky laugh, because she wasn't talking about the stew. She was talking about herself.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she heaved the pot into the hedges where most of the cobblestones she spent the better part of the day pulling up went. With any luck, the sabotauge would wreck a wagon wheel or sprain a traveller's ankle. The damage she had done to the bridge of which the road to Suthainn depended, was considerable. It needed but a wind and a prayer to fall to pieces. She had been working on it for many days and took pride in the results. The only road now lead into the maw of the swamp, and it hungered, she knew. Resting her ample buttocks on a broad stone and adjusting the neckline of her illusionary dress to accentuate her porportions, she waited.

A wailing maiden, I want you to see,
So a wailing maiden, I'll truly be!

To win your trust, you must save a life,
Behind my back you shan't see the knife!

The Dark One's told me to wait for my knight,
And to serve them truly is my life's delight!
For your desperate maiden, you'll surely fight!
Its a man that I seek, who will do what is right!

Come quick, oh brave one, quickly to me,
From jaws of the beast i need be set free!

Oh brave Sir Gallant, is that you I hear?
Come quick, for the beasties are drawing so near!

She heard an expected growl from the bush, as if arriving to play audience for the culmination of her song, drawn by the smell of food. The woman stood up, and crouched low, her arm held forward between her face and the one, two, then three wolves who also padded onto the road, no more than ten feet away. Dheathain marsh wolves were small by the standards which wolves are judged, with brick red fur growing in mottled patches over grey skin. Partially submerged in the bog, they were well suited to disguising themselves as a mound of dead grass while they waited for larger predators to pass them by. But when confronting single, helpless prey, they were highly agressive and were fueled by the rabies that every third or fourth member of their species posessed. Still able to function as the shocktroopers of a pack, the rabid wolves were always the first on the scene and the first to bite. Their disease heightened agression and fueled action by way of pain, but was not fatal to its host as was the case with most other strains of the disease. An animal, or person, could live a good long time if it had enough room to stalk, kill, and eat.

It wasn't solely insanity that caused the woman to approach the closest of the beasts, slowly, her arm outstretched. It was her orders. Someone was coming, she knew. Someone she was decreed to meet by her malicious patrons, unlike the unfortunate couple she chanced upon earlier in the day, to their misfortune. Someone is coming, the stagnant air, ripe with swamp gas whispered. She made her move, knowing if it was the will of the powers that she should die, then she was doing naught but her due-dilligence. She lashed her arm forward at the closest wolf as the other two circled her. It didn't take the bait. It skittered back two paces, and gnashed it jaws, barking shrilly, and spraying foam into the air. Its eyes were bloodshot and whitish-green gunk pooled and crusted in their corners. It gnashed its teeth and snarled again, and the woman lept forward with hostility, keeping her arm blocking the path from the wolf's maw to her throat. The wolf took the bait. It clamped its jaws down on her arm like a vice, as the other wolves bayed with excitement, waiting for their turn to join in the killing. Blood coursed from the wound and the woman shuddered in extacy, almost forgetting her mission; the part of the damsel in distress. So keenly she felt the call of the grave, and service in a bleak, slimy, cold afterlife. Paradise.

She wailed.

The wolf dug its jaws in cruely and did not letup the assault.

“Help me!” she shrieked. “Won't someone please help me!?”

[Archanex]

Fog somehow crept up around the area.

He was not sure why, but fog seemed fairly common in the swampland area he was currently within. He noticed it, there was sections of brick on the made road that had been carefully sabotaged...he sighed. But before his mind could piece together anything else...he heard a woman's call for help. The old sorcerer would have jumped at the chance to help someone in the past...but not after all that the mistress...Miranda had done to him. His eyes narrowed and he maneuvered in the direction he heard the cry for help from.

His eyes went wide there, a small group of something similar to dire wolves was attacking a lone woman.

They are tearing her apart. I have to intervene here... He thought to himself, he readied his staff in a centered combat position and ran at the nearest wolf. He wasn't ever a speedy type of combatant, but he was no slouch. He was physically fit for an elderly type, he swung his oak staff at the nearest of the wolves. Aiming at the head of the creature he hoped to the gods, that his strike would connect. He had a chance to study the woman before him...she was exotic looking. Archanex did not know what was considered beautiful or not by normal Althanas women, but he had seen enough of them to see beauty in the woman before him.

There was a beauty everywhere if one knew where to look.

An eternity felt like it passed when he swung at the wolf's head. So intent were they on making a quick meal of the woman they did not notice Archanex come in for the attack. He bashed the first wolf hard across the side of it's skull, and the wolf yelped loudly. It went crashing a few paces away, Archanex was not physically weak, but he was quite skilled with his chosen weapon. The wolf looked up at Archanex with a knowing fear of the old man.

Concentrating, Archanex had summoned up the mana energy necessary for a single fully powered energy bolt...the intent to kill was there. To protect the woman before him, he would kill the dire wolves. His eyes narrowed, the wolves saw the glowing energy in the old man's hands...and somehow respected the Overmage's power. They decided to go hunt safer prey at that point and ran off. Archanex held on to his energy bolt for a moment longer before dismissing it, and looked towards the woman. "You're hurt." He said carefully and noticed the injury on her arm, she was bleeding. "I know a bit of herbology I am going ot try to cover your injury." He ripped a sleeve off his own robe, and used some solvent ingredients he'd prepared in the safe house. "This will sting a little, but you seem like a strong woman I am sure you won't mind." He smiled softly at her and wrapped her injury, after cleaning it himself.

[DarkDelights]

In the separations of skin, she imagined she could see them. Wriggly black worms of corruption, burrowing deeper into her body, swimming down her veins like a rabbit through its warren, taking up residence inside her, occasionally creeping out her nostrils or ear canals for air. There were no crawling parasites or visible traces though. What was creeping into her blood stream was much smaller, and much more insideous. Microbes of a baterial disease, transmitted by the wolf's bite were in fact, looking for a new home inside her, but it was the nature of the primal magic that fed her that she should not suffer from the disease. She would carry it, and introduce it to others. Spread it. She could feel it vividly, although there was no telling how much of that was her intimate connection with corruption, and how much was the mushroom tea. Either way, she could feel it, and feel that it was weak. Hardly a plague that would help bring about the end of times. She pouted. Her arm throbbed relentlessly and she couldn't muster the will to flex her fingers, which were slick and red with her own blood.

Not paces away from where she fell, the dazed but not dead marshwolf was coming back to its senses but the fight was knocked out of it. She locked eyes with the beast as it prepared to flee, chastising it with a look. It was weaker than she anticipated, not even a challenge for her would-be rescuer. No matter, they played the part adequately in her unfolding fiction, and it was her turn to play her's. She applied pressure to the gash on her forearm and kicked her feet to put distance between herself and the rabid canine, shreiking shrilly though she saw that the creature was preparing to flee itself. She then took a moment to examine the cause of the marsh wolf's fear.

Simple oak staff in hand, it was no youthful knight in shining armor that had come to her aid. He was much older than she expected, and she prepared herself to be disappointed once again that day. Then she had to supress a smile and force herself to remain the helpless maiden, as the man began to conjure. Energy was gathering between his hands, some sort of wizardly projectile or the like. Whatever he was planning to do, the show of force was enough on its own to scare the beasts and defeat them outright. They scampered away, yelping. She thought, perhaps, she should have baited a Grolluk or even a jaguar if there were any left. At least then she would have got to see what that bolt of energy could do. She didn't like not knowing. She let the magical radiations wash over her as they disapated. They weren't even intermediate. Beginner's magic like her own. And then, when the coast was clear, he turned his attention to her. “The glamor will hold,” she thought. “My will is stronger.”

The man drew near, retreiving first-aid supplies and speaking soothingly.

She reclined on her hands. Her black slippered feet showed no dust or grime, and her bare legs displayed only a few recent scratches on her otherwise flawless white skin. She sat up, but no road dust clung to her behind. Brushing herself once was enough to restore her illusionary dress to a pristine state. She could have removed the scratches on her legs too but they were accessories to her costume now. There was nothing she could have done to conceal the bite on her arm if she wanted to. It hurt far too much, and still pulsed blood as she proffered her arm to the stranger who prepared to bandage her.

He touched her.

The illusion held.

She remained a vision of health, wide hips, smooth skin, ample breasts, and voluminous raven-black hair. Clad in a black dress that only accentuated her shapliness and contrasted her alabaster skin, now crimson at the hands.

“You, you saved me,” she said, shifting so a tuft of her hair, clean and soft by the graces of the glamor, fell into her face and covered one of her almost-too-large green eyes. “I am in your debt, Sir Mage.” He completed the binding on her arm then she stood to her feet and barely reached his chest in height. He was quite large, and she looked at his face without raising her own, peering instead through the curtains of her black eyelashes, emerald eyes sparkling in the waning daylight.

“My camp is just beyond the willows. Will you escort be back?” she asked, smiling.

-

“I regret that I'm recently out of tea,” she told the newest guest to her campsite. She shrugged as she raised her own earthernware mug which she had filled with the last of it. As fun as it sounded to drug the new comer and watch him tirade through the swamp, out of his senses, she was greedy, and wanted the rest for herself.

“I don't suppose you have any food? I'm so hungry I could eat a wolf!” she beamed. She lied. Her stomach was already cramping up again as the last round of tea was beginning to take effect. “Thank you again for saving me, I know not what would have happened if you didn't chance upon me. An angel must watch over me,” she glanced skyward mischievously. It was nightfall and the mists had returned, gently blanketing the soft marsh floor like a carpet. The only light came from the campfire that separated the two, though the air was alive with noise. Crickets chirped and the campfire crackled. A stubborn wolf howled in the distance.

“Tell me though, why did you come when you did? I havent seen anyone on this road for days now.”

She adjusted the straw pillow she sat upon, and awaited a reply.

[Archanex]

Because of what Miranda had done to him...trained him with...he was always naturally weary of strangers in general.

But the woman seemed all right. It was in his people's nature to help. The woman was attacked by the wolves and he'd acted without thought or desire for reward. He sat in silence for a moment as she asked questions. "Was the right thing to do." He answered plainly, in the mannerisms of his people. He had a gentle nature in his voice, the way he spoke was similar to scholarly types. He considered what she was asking of him. I can't place the safe house in danger, what do I tell her? He nodded after a moment. "A job lead me out here." He was only half-lying himself, he simply didn't completely trust her. Something about the whole situation left a bad feeling in his gut he could not quite shake.

"I'm hunting relics for a local temple." He said, also not necessarily a lie. He couldn't tell her the truth on Miranda's orders...the guild was far more important and the secrets he held in his heart. He would never place Miranda and the guild itself in any sort of danger, he was loyal to a fault. "I keep some rations and supplies, yes." Archanex responded to her question about food. "I'd be glad to share with you."

He kept his eyes on the woman before him. "Are you okay being out here by yourself?" It dawned on him to ask. "I know some people prefer to be alone...but it is really quite dangerous here. Me...as I said earlier I'm on a job so I did not mind helping you but you could have really been in a very bad situation there." He said plainly.

He studied her reactions carefully, that strange gut feeling he could not shake off for some reason. He prepared the food for her, using the single campfire. "I will ready the meal shortly just bare with me." He said to her with a smile as he prepared a simple meal of basic food he always kept with him and some he got from the safe house as supplies for his own cooking ventures. He prepared the meal for her and handed her the plate of it. He sat down on the ground after watching her eat. "Reminds me of my own home." He said to her calmly.

[DarkDelights]

A hearth, stoked by servants at all hours.

Above the mantle, a portrait of a family, mother, father, daughter.

They are all smiling in the picture.

“I live here,” she said while chewing. It wasn't the worst cheese she ever had. She set the remainder of the offered food in the short brown grass. A fly rubbed its hands together, delighted.

“Always have.”

She took another bite of the white cheese. “Have you ever seen a Grolluk? They're like,” she took another bite of the cheese and continued while chewing. “...A freshwater octopus I guess you could say? But I'm not sure how many limbs they actually have. More than eight for sure. They're black, like my hair!” she shook her head playfully. She set the other two-thirds of the cheese on top of the cooling food at her feet. The fly was overjoyed and called a friend.

“Anyways, so, they grab something with their arms that have these boney little growths like thorns running allll the way along them. So they'll grab it, and pull it towards the center of its writhing body where its mouth is, all the while it watches with its big white, milky eye. Grolluks differ from an octopus, in that they're smart enough that they understand how frightened their dinner is, and for them, it makes food taste all the sweeter. Now, their mouths are little puckered circles and inside all around it are long, needle-like teeth. If you manage to pull one from the Grolluk's mouth and live, you'll have exceptionally good luck for one year, and one day.” She neglected to mention how big they were.

“Oh, but I'm rambling. Don't be afraid though, Sir Mage, such things only dwell in the heart of the swamp where the sun hasn't touched the water in a thousand years. Now, relics and temples you say? I don't know much about those things beyond my borders, but that's not to say I know nothing at all," she began slowly, a plan formulating in her mind. "If you follow the main road out of the swamp, there's a temple to one of the four pagan gods the dracari worship,” she said, then shook her head as if reconsidering. "No, any relics to be found there would surely be under heavy guard by dracari champions. It would be impossible to retrieve any relic from their vaults, unless of course you're a master burglar. Are you a master burglar, sir mage?" she laughed offhandedly, stalling while fabricating the finishing touches of another half-truth.

“Perhaps what you seek is somewhere closer at hand. Did you know that before the dracari made their home, or rather, before there were any dracari. You know, when it was just dragons. There was an ancient civilization here. One of the first races of man, its said. They worshipped all sorts of primordial things, gods, I guess you could say, but I don't know if that's quite the right word. There are ruins not far from here which are the bones of a holy site where such worship was practiced,” she gestured through the willow trees in the direction the old road would lie. “There was a town here once, when it rained less and the swamp was smaller. They just had enough time to build a causeway for the road before the waters came in and drowned the town and all the poor people who lived there.” She pouted for emphasis. “They built their town in the shadow of an old religious reliquary and the road runs there, but after about a day of travel, the way is washed out and its another day's travel by foot through the marsh. My home isn't far from there.”

She pressed her short, slender index finger on her chin, thoughtfully.

“I could take you in the morning if you like. Its really no trouble, and its the least I can do for rescuing me and sharing your supper.” She laced her fingers together and stretched her arms out, popping up her chest. She winced as her bandage arm throbbed, and bit her lower lip, forcing back a smile.

"I'm tired though, and its best to have the campfire out before the moon gets too high. I'm going to get ready for bed. If you're still here in the morning, I'll happily take you. If you decide to go on without me, I shall come pull you out of the bog later,” she laughed merrily. “No peeking now. Good night, Sir Mage, and thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” she pressed her palm to her lips and blew a kiss.”

My black, rotten heart!

-

The glamour melted away like peeling paint, and beneath she was caked in filth. The extent of her bleeding was much more than her illusion let on. She felt weak, and sick. It was delicious. Her feet were bare and the brown marsh-grass had sharp edges, and sliced them like paper cuts. She pirouetted on her toes, her arms outstretched. Her clothes were gone, and her womanly features were painted in black and green oily slime. Grease ran in brown smears from her hair and she licked it from her black lips which, still plump, looked like they had been attacked by frostbite despite the warm climes. Her eyes. Green emeralds were replaced by sickly yellows, brown pocks, and swirls and blotches of red, as she aligned the tatters of her soul with the dark core of the swamp.

She spun until she grew dizzy, and collapsed, laughing, and looking up, at the industrious spiders hard at work in the willow branches.

“Bring him to you, I will, I will. Bring him to you, I will.”

[Archanex]

She's trying to teach me something... He observed very carefully. There was a history lesson in there someplace probably half truths and half lies but their cultures fascinated Archanex deeply. He, a hungry scholar, absorbed every word she spoke and was greedy for more. Everything she said deeply interested the older sorcerer, it was not too much different than when two geniuses of any other races met. He nodded to her as he watched her speak and eat the food he'd prepared for her. "...I see." Archanex said calmly after she was done talking. He'd very little knowledge of Althanas proper itself yet, but he was still learning and he was eagerly learning more all the time.

He visualized the Grolluk in his mind, pretty similar to some aquatic monster types back home.

He nodded once more. "I will watch the camp while you sleep don't worry I won't go anywhere." He said to her. That was the truth. His eyes narrowed for a moment "Me...I'm not from Dheathain originally...I'm from a land called Ayenee." He thought about what was safe to tell the locals, they would not understand things like other world traveling and other dimensions. "It is a land beyond Kebiras." He was willing to tell her, that wasn't a far stretch either. He just knew he could not be like...I'm a god damned alien...how would they react to that? He chuckled for a moment at the thought. He watched her enter her tent and go to sleep for the night.

I'll watch her, I will watch all of them always...your adopted son... Archanex never slept. Instead, he started scribing things in his personal journals and parchments. Things with regards to his recent musings, his recent findings...he did not want to forget the details that he'd learned from her. So he wrote the things down in his people's original writing which was not Althanas common tongue. He went into a partial trance as he wrote the details he'd learned of Dheathain and even some of the history. He was no historian but he could fact check the girl later on.

He was certain there was some actual truth mixed in there...The swampland was her home...something is adding up.... Archanex at some point in the morning hours of the next day Archanex started smoking his hemp pipe. It helped calm his nerves and he was certain the journey ahead would be a long one.

[DarkDelights]

The six legged insect crawled across her eyelashes. The witch held her breath and remained still. Like a venus flytrap, she snapped her eyelashes shut, attempting to catch the bug, but its ability to sense vibration and intention were stronger than that of a human and it flew away, already clear of her face as the fluttery lashes shut. She sighed. Virtually every creature that walked Althanas was superior to humans in some way, and at the end of the day, that's all she was.

Human.

She spat the word like a curse. At herself as much as anyone else.

She hadn't slept, but her body rested in the grass as insects and nightcrawlers slowly made their way across her bare skin. She hardly noticed. It was the three-thousand, six-hundred, and sixty-fifth night she had spent just like this. She hardly noticed, but the human in her still counted the nights.

She sighed, and rose from the rough grass. Her putrid eyes flared with arcane energy as she channeled primal power. She blinked. Emerald orbs, sparkling in the sun that filtered through the willow branches. A ripple in the perception of reality moved over her form, starting at the head. Her matted, grungy hair writhed like snakes, shaking the spiders out and breaking free of the crust. It was thick and voluminous, falling over her shoulders in waves of slightly curled ebony silk. Her nose was slight, and just barely noticibly crooked from when an adolescent girl broke it with a balled fist. Her lips were dark beyond reason, and the corners curved in a smirk. Her teeth where white, and near to shade as her skin. Her limbs were lean, contrasted intensely by her hourglass figure. Rich black fiber knit itself across her alabaster skin, starting at the hips and neckline, and working their way to the form-fitting center. She stretched her bare arms – and winced. She looked at the brownish stain in the center of the mage's robe that a strange man had torn from his person to apply the first-aid. The bleeding had only recently stopped, and the pain had returned when the effects of her brew wore off. Her fingers on that hand were still partially unresponsive. Infection would not set in, she knew. It never did. They had a pact. Examining her clean form glumly, she supposed she would have to find some cheer at someone else's expense.

Back near the camp where the old overmage had stood vigil the whole evening, the green curtain of branches parted and a vision of good health emerged, save for the ghastly wound on her arm.

“Still here, I see. Didn't bolt in the night like a frightened lamb. That's a good portent, to be sure,” she said with a curtsy. “My arm feels much better today, thanks to your skill and care. I thank you, and if you still wish to find your relic, I would still be at your disposal, Sir Mage,” she smiled. The sort of auto-pilot of playfulness she enacted when others were around took over and she pranced across the camp, twirling as she passed Archanex.

“I've been thinking about what you said last night. About Ayenee,” she turned her head dreamily skyward. “I would love to see such a place!”

Burnt to the ground.

“You simply must tell me more,”she tugged on the old man's arm, leading him back towards the road and the fork, where one path led to the ambling country side, one to the Dheathainian capital city of Suthainn, and one... the path they would take that lead somewhere different entirely.

If she had her way, the witch would have insisted they travel immediately the previous day, but there was no guartantee that the Kotaj had found its dinner yet, and the road was not safe to walk when the Great Sleeping Thing was hungry and active. Not even for her. Enough time had passed though, and she was certain that it would be contented and have returned to its slumber by now. There was still a great deal of danger on the road.

She smiled darkly as she lead the man across the damaged court of the crossroads.

She was counting on it.

“Its about a days walk by road. Maybe a little more. Then we hike. Normally I would be concerned about you making the journey at... an advanced age. But you seem pleasantly hale,” she winked her, and fluttered her fly-traps. “There are so many interesting things to see on the walk, I promise you shan't be bored! You mentioned your passing knowledge of herbalism! I am something of an enthusiast myself,” she said, taking his arm as an escorted maiden would take her man's. “Did you know there are exactly fourty-two species of toxic flora in the marsh? And nearly as many venomous species of animals! Some have been here since before the founding of Suthainn. Actually, most of them more likely. Oh, but I could go on. You'll see the beauty here, oh I know you will,” she looked up to meet the tall man's eyes. “When you've seen all the wonders of the swamp,” she gave a hearty laugh, “Why I doubt you'll want to leave!”

The witch was talkative and pleasant as they put distance from the fork. The road curved and ducked under the massive moss-covered timbers of the old bridge which led to the highland and out of the swamp. The bridge she spend the better part of a week sabotaging. They passed under, following the deep ravine, until it turned into the causeway, a long patch of man-made hill that lifted the road out of the marsh that crept up on both sides. The water was dreary and brown, with speckles of green lily-pads which frogs sat on lazily, singing to the travellers. Twisted trees and low, thorn addled shrubs grew in clusters where they may. She ventured down to the water's edge, plucked a pale-pink lily and tucked it into her hair near the forehead. It suited her current form. Returning to her escort, she looked down the old road. They had many miles to go, but she would stall as often as she could. For now...

“Oh please, Sir Mage, tell me a story to help pass the time. Tell me of Ayenee, and the temple you are employed to! And of your travels so far! How did you come to be in Dheathain?”

[Archanex]

Tell me of home... The old man thought to himself as he walked alongside her.

"Where do I begin?" He nodded to the girl as they walked. He could only tell her half-truths, but some of it would be honest. "It is a distant land you see?" Archanex said to her very calmly. "Beyond Kebiras on the other side of Althanas." He told her. "It is not too different from some parts of mainland, here, but it has known a different set of wars." He figured she would be interested in hearing some of the past history. "My people, Overmage...are an eccentric group of people as you have no doubt guessed already."

"I myself, have studied the arcane arts sine youth. My village....most of my family and friends were from there. I was chasing someone through a neighboring town when I ended up here in Althanas." It wasn't the entire truth, but it would do. "Not quite sure how exactly I ended up here, but I had. Maybe some spell gone awry." He said to her. "Either way, I was saved by the Temple that I work for now." He nodded, he had to protect the safe house at all costs. "The relic I seek is a talisman of sorts. I can pay you for your assistance if you require any money at all." The older man said to her, attempting to barter and negotiate with her.

She had an excitement about her, but the older man had seen many things in his life.

The feeling in his gut never went away, but he kept his eyes on her handsome form. "Let me see your injury, in case I have to bandage it once more." He suddenly said to her...he had prepared some extra bandages for her in the night while she had slept. Or he had assumed she slept...