Fable - Ask Welcome to the Delta

[Dmitry]

A figure stirred in a dusty stone room, now becoming lit by the morning light creeping through a window. A pile of charcoal lay a few feet in front of him, the charcoal only holding a few stubborn embers. A yawn proceeded a pair of brown eyes opening slowly, a hand brushing through a head of short, dark hair. The same hand then rubbed the young man's face, before he pushed himself up off the ground and walked to the window from the corner he had been sleeping against. As he rubbed his eyes, the man put a hand on the edge of the window, removing his other hand from his eyes to take a look at the morning scenery.

"Another pretty mornin'..." He mumbled, scratching his face. An expanse of a marsh stretched out before him, reeds and cattail scattered about and shallow pools of water all around. A tree line could be seen within an hours walk and a line of peat could be seen between those trees and the partly sunken tower the vagrant was looking out from, about two stories up at the building's current height. The stones making up the outer wall were almost completely taken over by vines, mushrooms, and other growths.

"Well, back to it, I guess." The youth said with a sigh, reaching for a belt next to the wall he was sleeping against. In the same spot was a tattered cloak sitting atop a wooden frame adored with two straps and an assortment of woven rush cords, along with a short, broad bladed tool that curved forward just at the end. With all of this gear retrieved and adorned, he pulled a piece of dried lizard meat from his pouch, placed it into his mouth, and scaled the window before climbing down the various growths on the wall.

Upon reaching the bottom of the tower, his wading boots sinking slightly into the muck beneath the shallow layer of cold water, the now hooded vagabond approached a tree stump about half his height and twice his breadth. After affixing the straps of the back pack in such a way that it hung from the stump, he removed a small, wooden shovel and a bucket strapped to the side before heading over to a spot near the tower and plunging the shovel into the mud and scooping it into the bucket. Throughout the area, there were several sticks and tree limbs stuck into the ground, marking areas that were previously checked already.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Remind me again why we didn't hire a local guide?" Garrod asked, his voice groggy and filled with tired. The sleepiness was still there crusted around his eye, which he rubbed at with his gloved hand.



"Come, Garrod, you have agreed to the venture from the outset, thus, you have no room to quibble." one stuffy and over-robbed researcher corrected. "Besides," he said as he examined the bit of swamp scum that had collected by the roots of the tree he leaned down beside. He uncorked a phial, and dipped into the water. "I've been around these parts many times, I just need your steel, that's all," he popped the stopper back onto the phial, and set it into the wooden carrying case he had set down beside him. It was loaded with phials and bottles and all sorts of expensive looking glassware, occupied by some dirty looking substance or the other.

"Right," Garrod yawned, and kept a look out. "And because you want swamp hydra droppings, right?"

The scholar nodded, quick little bobs of the head. "Yes, yes, precisely that, and swamp hydras don't tend to have a wide spread territory, oddly enough." He packed up his travel pack. "They are ambush predators, you see, like to stick to one small patch of wilderness for some time before they move on." He closed up the case, and slipped his arms through the loop. "It helps that they actually don't eat very much in addition to their small territories."

"Do tell, professor Dieder," Garrod feigned interest.

"Well you see, because of their slower metabolism rate-"

 

[Dmitry]

As the sun began to climb, the hooded figure now had a roughly five foot wide pit dug about three feet down in the muck. He had fully consumed the piece of meat he had in his mouth earlier and was now placing his shovel into the ground for a short rest, pulling a water skin from his belt and taking a sip. Wiping his forehead with the edge of his hand, the digger leaned on his shovel and surveyed the environment for any changes, his panting soon mellowing into normal breathing. After putting away his water and grabbing hold of the shovel at the haft, his eyes widened as he felt a thud at the end of the tool. Testing the area a few times, a grin came upon his features as he tossed the shovel to the side and began digging his hands into the silt.

"C'mon, c'mon..." he muttered, getting his hands around a large object stuck in the mud, the damp soil in the pit shaking as he tugged. Eventually, the mud began to writhe and twist until what looked like an enormous splinter came out, about the size of a dog. Wiping the side of it off revealed wood the color of tar, causing his grin to widen as he stepped out of the pit and began rinsing the object in the surrounding water. After getting the main layer of wet earth off of it, he pulled it up to reveal a shard of pitch black wood with several pieces of amber attached.

It was a shard of the old Iuk-‘u Life Tree, which shattered ages ago, long before anyone was living there. Nobody he'd met knew much about it, only that it shattered and spread its pieces all across the Delta a long, long time ago and that it possessed strong magical properties. Both facts made these shards extremely valuable to mages and alchemists, well worth the effort. Upon hefting the shard over to the pack he'd hung on the trunk, he pulled out his knife and began prying off the various pieces of amber. Like the shards, they held their own power, though they weren't sought after the same way. As such, the young man placed them into a pouch on his belt and began strapping the shard to his pack, not long before a pair of travelers appeared from the tree-line.

"You folks lost?" He called out as they neared him, neither of them appearing to be bandits or scavengers.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"So, a full grown swamp hydra only needs about one meal per month!" The professor exclaimed excitedly.

Garrod leaned against his sword, its point stuck in the soft mud. "Right, that makes sense." His eye scanned the water, saw some bubbles break the surface, and his posture straightened up some, his hand turned and ready to pull the sword free. "Professor,"

"I'm glad you think so Garrod, You know, for a roguish brute, you are quite inquisitive, and that is a rare trait among many folk not just-"

"You folks lost?" came a voice from the near-distance.

Garrod looked over and saw a young man at the bank, mucked up and carrying stuff in his pouches. "Maybe not quite lost," the sellsword called back.

"No!" The professor exclaimed, happily. "We are quite fine, young man, hurry along now," he said without even looking up.

Garrod frowned at the man, but something caught his eye. More bubbles seemed to roil at the surface. "Professor! Move away from the bank," the bubbles popped closer.

"Oh, come now, I told you I-" A gauntleted hand snatched the fabric of his coat and yanked the obsessive older man away from the shore line.


The surface of the water tore open in a surge as a large multi- spade-headed turtle snapped up at where the professor had been but a moment ago with one of its razor sharp beaks. Its other four maws hung open, cavernous and hungry as reptilian yellow eyes all focused on the professor.

The man laughed. "Yes! Yes! I knew we were in the right place!"

Garrod yanked up his sword and got in front of the professor. "Stay back!" he let the blade run long, kept it between himself and the creature.

"No, you fool, do not harm it! It's worth far more alive!" Professor Dieder scolded.

 

[Dmitry]

The marsh dweller rose an eyebrow at the old mans words, wiping his hand off on the side of the tree stump and retrieving another piece of meat from its pouch. "Seems like you folks are lost." He said, taking a bite and leaning on the dead tree as he observed the explorers.

As his incredulousness grew, the swamp hydra he'd managed to avoid the last few days emerged from the water and mud and began threatening the duo as it searched for its next meal. "Yup, you folks are definitely lost." He repeated before placing the dried lizard in his mouth and removing his pack from the stump, carrying it over to tower.

"You might want to get up something," the young man called out as he climbed back up the tower, pack on his back. "Unless you plan on being that 'one meal a month', yeah?" Upon reentering the window he originally left from and setting down the pack, he retrieved one of the ambers he'd taken from the blackwood shard. "You folks just tell me if you're willing to buy some help."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Alive?!" Garrod snapped.

"You might want to get up something," came the voice of the stranger.

The biggest head stretched out of its shell, long leathery neck unfurling from the folds of tough hide that surrounded it. It's large eyes gleamed hungry, and it stared as its head hung there a moment.

"Yes, yes, alive my boy, alive," the professor said in a hushed tone as he slowly inched back away from the bank. His hands busy as they closed up his pack with a practiced efficiency. "I will mark this spot on the map, and,"

"You might want to get up something," came the voice again.

"Oh, yes, yes, good advice to be sure," the professor replied, arms wrapped around the trunk of a nearby tree. He started to do a funny hump, squat, shuffle as he tried to work his way up. "Hmm," he thought.

The Hydra's main head hung high as the others began to stretch out and snap in futile attempts at Garrod, who stepped back and used the length of his blade to keep the attacks at bay. One after the other, they snapped, and their rhythm increased, while the big head went on, looming over the swordsman.

"Garrod! I need a little assistance." The professor cried out as he tried to hop up and latch onto the tree. What little height he gained lost as he slid back down to the ground.

"I'm a little busy!"

"Well, what am I paying you for then, hmm?"

The big head struck down, and Garrod raised his sword up, braced the blade with his off hand. The axe beak jaws glanced off, but struck with so much force Garrod was thrown back onto the wet earth with a squelch. "You, crawling up the tower!" He growled as he worked up to his feet, instinct quick. "five silvers if you get the professor up that tree!" the hydra lumbered toward him, and its small heads snapped at him, slow again, they struck air as Garrod stepped back and began to cant a spell beneath his breath, the runs along his sword glowed hot and blue and electric.

 

[Dmitry]

Now resting on the window with his chin in his hand, the excavator let out a sigh at the price and task mentioned. "You want me to climb back down, slosh through the muck, skirt around a hydra, and push some old man up a tree for five silvers?" He shouted back, rather audibly disappointed with the offer. With a brief look about the area, the scavenger noticed an enormous tree towering above both the swordsman and the Hydra, one large branch in particular hanging above the reptile.

"How 'bout this, then." He said as he removed a length of braided cord from around his neck, holding it at one end and looping the other over his finger. "Make it 15 silver and I won't sit here and watch that thing eat you." With that offer, he placed the amber in a leather nook in the middle of the cord and leaned back, before swinging it overhead and launching it out the window.

Upon impact with the stiff bark of the enormous timber, the amber shattered and detonated at the base of the branch. With a deafening boom and a resounding crack, the branch sagged a bit before detaching entirely and landing on the various heads and necks of the Hydra, pinning it down. As the turtle like beast began to struggle and thrash, part of the branch became impaled upon the sharp ridges and spikes on their shell.

"Might wanna move while you can."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"15?!" Garrod half laughed as he shouted back his response, the turtle, spurred on by the sound, snapped its bight forward again, and its beak clanged against the metal of Garrod's great sword with a splash of blue sparks.

Blue streaks of electricity webbed up the runed run of his sword and crackled and hissed as they snared around the creature. It gave a sharp sound of pain and recoiled away, even took a few measured steps back towards the water.

Something caught Garrod's eye as it twifted overhead. A thunk, shatter, and boom came next, with a flash of gold and yellow and Garrod flinched back as he covered his eye.

"Might wanna move while you can." came the uncaring voice of the swamp local.

The branch groaned as its fibers snapped and popped and gave way, and Garrod doubled back as the hunk of tree crashed onto the hydra. All of its heads snapped every which way, and its feet struggled to get itself out from under the weight of the large branch.

Short, sharp claps came from nearby, and Garrod turned to find the professor.

"Bravo!" the stout academic shouted with glee. "Very good, young man, very good! 15 silvers Garrod, pay him."

"What?!" Garrod growled. "I never agreed to the price." he swung his sword up and rested its blade on his shoulder, he took a few more steps away from the hydra, which went on with its struggle.

"Come now, fifteen silvers is a fine price."

"Then you pay him," Garrod huffed.

"I did not offer him any reward for assistance, mind you,"

"Yeah, well, we were still in negotiations," he glanced back at the man. "I'll give you eight for the help," he offered, "Twenty if you act as our guide for the day."

The professor nodded. "Yes, very good, now let me," he crept closer to the hydra, eyes wide with curiosity. A head reached out and snapped at him and he leapt back with a fright and a shout, and then a nervous laugh. "Fiesty!"

Garrod sighed. "Professor, don't go getting yourself killed now, please."

"Pish posh, Garrod, I am find, just getting a better look at this beautiful specimen."

 

[Dmitry]

As the two bickered, the young man was making his way down the tower once more, the pack on his back once again. When he joined the newcomers, he now wore a breastplate and arm guards made from a beetle carapace, his sling once again tied around his neck.

"Twenty-two and you got a deal. Unless you got a lot of lead on you, then maybe I take your twenty." He said as he approached, his voice now just loud enough to hear clearly. "Gotta learn to negotiate fast in these parts, tourist." The would-be guide grinned a moment before his eyes drifted over to the other 'tourist' and the hydra. "You know it ain't really trapped, right? Give it a few minutes and that branch is gonna go." Upon realizing the old man wasn't going to heed his advice, he turned back to the mercenary.

"Got a skiff nearby, good route to the port if that's where you're heading." he said with a flick of his head in the general direction of the vessel in question. "What exactly do you need from the hydra anyway? Whatever it is, you better get it quick."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"No lead, I'm afraid, so twenty and two," the monster-hunter-turned-bodyguard echoed, and stared at the hydra, as it wriggled its legs about in the muck and snapped its heads in the professor's general direction. "Sounds like a fair enough price." He laughed at the comment on speed and negotiation. "Tourist here, my friend, but no tourist to trade. Fast deals lead to fast ends, as they say, and I count my coin among the many things I'd want to keep from coming to an end."

"Droppings my boy, we want its droppnings!" The professor called back as he went on examining the creature. He had pulled out a small pad of papyrus paper, and was sketching at it with a stick of coal.

"He wants its droppings," Garrod corrected as he walked over behind the professor, and grabbed him by the tunic. The Professor yelped, but Garrod hauled him away with one arm from the momentarily trapped creature. "From what the professor tells me, they line their nests with droppings, yes? Any chance you know where such a nest would be?"

The professor laughed with a hoot. "My, how sharp of you to recall my lecture, Garrod,"

"Not that I had much choice," the spellsword grumbled. He turned his eye to the guide, "So, guide," he took up his purse and jingled the coins for effect. "Let's get to this skiff of yours before this monster gets out, hmm?"

The hydra snapped at them, closer by an inch, but still too encumbered by the debris.

 

[Dmitry]

The young man raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head. "Don't even wanna know..." He said before turning north, waving the two over as he walked. "You're a bit early, but their might be a few nests around the dryer parts. These parts are too wet, eggs are liable to get eaten or the young drown while they hatch." He then attempted to lead them through the nearby brush, entering through an already cut patch of it and leaving the hydra behind.

After a short walk through a small patch of relatively dry, but still damp soil, the vagrant reached the flat, shallow boat he had taken to get here. "Might have to squeeze in a bit, but she should hold the three of us." He said as he pushed the skiff into the river. "Folks 'round here call me the swamp rat. As good a name as any."

Once everyone was loaded in the vessel, he pushed off with an oar and began paddling down the river, alternating which side he pushed from. "I can get us to one of the larger chunks of land, then it's just a matter of getting to the higher points of that." He said as he rowed. "Not that anything around here get's that high..." After a few minutes, the Rat's eyes narrowed as he heard the rustling of tall grass and bushes, scattered on both sides of the river.

"By the by," he said to the swordsmen in a hushed tone. "May wanna keep that magic to yourself if you can help it. Some things around that have a taste for it."

(OOC: So sorry for how late this was.)

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Swamp rat," Garrod parroted. "Can't say i've come by anyone wearin such a name, so I s'pose you are right," the monster hunter mused. "A good name is memorable, and swamp rat, well, it isn't much if it ain't memorable,"

The small vessel began to glide through the water, piloted by the steady push and pull of their guide's oar. He listened too him mention the plan.

"Sounds sound enough," he said with a nod.

The professor too nodded, though the gestures were quick and sharp. "Yes, yes, a fine plan, young Swamp Rat, a fine plan indeed."

Then broke from the bushes creatures that went further into the growth. Not a scale scene by the hunter's eye, only the wake of their tracks. Swamp Rat gave a warning. Garrod looked down at his relic-strapped hand. Would they sense its magic, he could not help but wonder.

Let them come, oh bearer mine, and let me have a taste of their souls. The demon inside the jewel smiled, for Garrod could hear it in his voice. Could see the faintest trace of the entity's mouth curling at its ends. Up and pleased.

"Swamp Rat," the professor began. "Do you know what the local population of the swamp hydras are? I've come to understand they are seen as a nuisance to settlements, and have oft been the target of unjust killings and poaching," he nodded. "Rather silly really, if the people knew how much a learned man would pay for their fecal matter... well, no matter, such complex accounting is beyond most in these parts i am sure."

 

[Dmitry]

The Rat gave a light shrug as he rowed.

"If what I've seen today's any indication, I'd guess all the 'learned men' got eaten about five minutes into the Delta." He said with a mild amusement. "Far as the hydras go, I know their meat's foul and they haven't anything worth killing for. Let alone dyin' for. Occasionally, they snatch up a muck beetle or two, so a farmer or such might clear any in the place out."

The rustling in the surrounding brush seemed to die down a bit and the young guide began to wonder if they were clear of any immediate threat. The tourists hadn't used much magic, just enough to give off a slight scent. The route they were taking would be hard to follow on foot as well and he'd never known krait to swim. Still, there was disturbingly little he knew about them to start with, despite knowing most of the other creatures front ways and backwards. Ultimately, he could only keep an ear open and his wits about him, so he shook his head and refocused himself on the waters ahead.

"Comin' up on a decent spot now." He said to his passengers as they approached a patch of relatively dry land, drag marks adorning its shore. "Alright, clear on out. Gotta beach the skiff." As the trio hit land, the Rat dragged the boat onto land, stowed the oar, and began gathering branches and large leaves for camouflage.

"It'll likely be about half an hour's walk inland," He remarked after hiding the skiff as well as he could. "Hope you don't mind a hike."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"I say, Swamp Rat, that is a most astute observation! Perhaps my colleagues have simply failed to make proper inroads with the local populace," he hmmed to himself. "And now that the laws of cosmic occurrence have put us here, in this place, together at this very point in time, well, now is our opportunity!" he mused aloud.

Garrod grumbled and looked out at the water as the boat glided through it. Their guide warned them of land's approach. When they made landfall, Garrod looked for the terrain that seemed the most solid, but Swamp rat was already hopped off and moving. Following where his guide went, Garrod hopped off after Swamp Rat, and the Professor followed there after, stuck in the mud some before he waded his way out.

"Hike is fine," Garrod affirmed.

"Yes, yes, gives us more time to talk about this here potential business venture, my dear Swamp Rat." The Professor went on. "Why, is that truly your name, Master Swamp Rat?" He asked curiously.

 

[Dmitry]

As the tourists rattled on about this and that, the Swamp Rat glanced at a spot in the muck, before turning his attention elsewhere and finding some drag marks in the soil. "Couldn't tell you what me mother called me out of the womb." He said as he began walking along the trail in the dirt. "Swamp Rats what they call me, so I suppose that's what I am. Now c'mon, this way."

Only a few feet from the water was a patch of brush, the trail leading through a rather enormous hole in that vegetation. "Keep your ears open, we're heading in deep." He said back, still in a very quiet tone. "And keep it quiet." It would be another 20 minutes of walking before they reached an enormous mound of dirt, accompanied by an equally enormous stench.

"There it is, in all its rancid glory." He said to the two. "Now be quick about it." After about five minutes of waiting for his clients to finish their business here, he began to hear more rustling, this time from multiple directions. "Gonna need to speed this along now lads..."

(Sorry again for the wait)

 

[Garrod Arlette]

And deep they went. The smell growing ever more putrid as they ventured forward. Garrod, ever careful to keep his blade free of the stagnant water, resting its road against his shoulder and across his chest as they traipsed through the mire.

Then came the shit. A massive mound, bout two times as large as the Hydras themselves.

"Gods," the monsterhunter groaned with a wry smile across his face. Everything he could suppressed the want to laugh. "How horrible,"

Professor Dieder hurried forward, having plugged his nose with a wooden clip at some point in his rush. "Magnificent!" He cried out with a honked voice. He wasted no time in gathering what he needed. Sample sizes of gratuitous amount. Vials filled to the brim. Corked. Pouches. Even a box.

Then came the skitter amongst the brush. Garrod's eye perked up, his grip on his sword re-adjusted and he lift its weight from off his shoulder. Lowered it, point out in one of the directions of the movement.

"I think we got company," he would utter out.

Professor Dieder went on with his scooping. "Yes, yes, do as you've been paid to, I am almost done collecting what I need," he said with some annoyance, and he milled about the mound of waste until he turned over a pile. "Oh, here we are now," he said as he bent low to his work.

Dmitry

 

[Dmitry]

The Rat clicked his tongue, his patience worn fully out.

"Time's up, fat man." He hissed, his voice now jagged and cold. "You can leave with what you got or you can swim home, assuming the krait don't have you for a snack." Without waiting for the other two, the guide hurried through the path they took earlier. It was now clear that the sounds around them were krait. "If you're still with me, break left when we clear the brush," He called back. "Go about a dozen feet and draw them in. Forget about keeping the magic down, go wild. Fat man, you're helping me with the skiff." It didn't matter to him if they listened or not. If they did, they'd probably live. If not, the krait would definitely go for the swordsman and his boss, giving Swamp Rat more than enough time to scarper. After all, no payday is worth his life. "Here we go!" He shouted just before breeching the tree line. Now clear of obstacles, the Rat ran as fast as the terrain would allow and started flinging off the makeshift camouflage.

If Garrod made it out of the brush, he would be quickly followed by a tall, grey, emaciated and eyeless horror. Instead of colliding with the mercenary, this creature would run straight at him only to veer left with a swipe. It then disappeared back into the brush, just as another burst out and tried the same in reverse. A great deal more noise could be heard deeper in.

Whether alone or with help, Swamp Rat eventually managed to uncover the boat and push it into the water. "Alright, get on if you're comin', but I ain't gonna wait long!" He eyed the spot he noticed earlier, now between him and the spot he directed Garrod to. "C'mon, you dregs," he muttered. "Come to Mama..." He'd only wait a short time before pushing off and retreating.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod's eye narrowed as he listened to Swamp Rat lay down a plan of action. Seemed sound enough. Minus the whole, him being live bait. But, Garrod grinned and his eye twinkled with delight, the monster hunter could not say he wasn't fond of the wild and mad.

Such is your lot in life, Oh Bearer Mine, to chase that which few dare chase. Belephus cooed happily.

His green eye seemed to shimmer all the brighter in the low light of the bayou. Sun filtered through thick mist and near-stagnant air. Garrod drew his sword, drew in breath, bent his knees and felt the earth beneath him give, just so. The air about him moved. Swirled about and whipped as little wings beat their filmy membranes against the magick-born currents.

Rustles rattled in his ears and Garrod broke forward wit ha windswept dash, blade carried low, pointed peak aimed out in front of him. He moved with an unnatural lightness, and when the first monster broke free from the rushes, he twist to catch slashing limbs along the edge of his weapon. Momentum did the rest, flesh rent down to the bone, and the eyeless horror yowled as it crashed into the reeds. Garrod dug his heel into the muck, near slipped but found that his boot found purchase there in the last inches of the dig.

A second monster growled out in a reverberating shriek that shook the bones and rattled the mind. Garrod grinned all the wider. He could not see it. But he could hear it. Pack beasts. Yips and yowls, shrieks and screams. Disorienting tactics meant to rattle the prey. What a joyous day. His sword still in a high guard, he kept the point angled back, dropped the peak of his great-sword down to lay horizontal with the earth as his head and shoulders turned about, feet pivoting at the ankles as practiced muscles repositioned.

His eye caught the beast's shape. A target he aimed to hit. But his stance was awkward, his footing poor. Come the weight of the creature, a cut would occur, yes, but shallow, just wide of the vitals. There was no stopping power to it. The beast just crashed into him, momentum blowing the hunter down onto the ground. The creature was angrier for taking the wound. Teeth gnashed and tried to rip away at exposed human flesh. Luckily, the clawed wide guard on the monster-killing blade caught the beast, held it back as its claws scrabbled against steel plate and the mud sucked at Garrod's back. Cold and wet. The talon on the sword's guard was a finger deep in the creature's neck, and the wound oozed black ichor out.

Garrod smiled, the runes along his swords blade burned white hot. He let out a shout, voice clapped like thunder. Arc sizzled and webbed and traced up along the sword's long edge. Zapped the monster. The blade glowed hotter, whiter, a bolt of lightning spit out from the magicked weapon, pierced up into the clouds before its energy dissipated. The moisture about its trace evaporated. Swirled. The monster ceased its gnashing and slashing. A charred husk. Garrod grunt as he shoved its weight off of him and he worked himself up to his feet. Tired. Yes, quite.

How amusing, how grand. Your want to go on without me. Belephus roiled like gathering smoke.

Pant after tired pant, Garrod eyed his surrounding, saw Dieder run after the Rat with a satchel full of turtle shit. The hunter nod, and ran after, as so many things rustled and rattled and traced to his swell of magick. All the while, the hunter smiled. Wyrd as wings spread on the wind.

All got to the boat. All heard the Rat mutter on about dregs and mommas and tired as he was, Garrod heaved the ship free of its muddy dock. The wet earth sucked back at them, but he heaved on none the less, and as their guide hopped in, he too hefted himself up. Turned back, and saw Dieder staring at him wide eyed, hands outstretched as the vessel pushed out. Garrod grit his teeth and lunged out, gauntlet-clawed hand latched onto the rail another hand reached out, desperate for purchase.

Grasps wrapped, but the whole ship tipped with Garrod's weight, and more so when he tried to heave the professor in.

Dmitry

 

[Dmitry]

Meanwhile, the Rat nearly jumped as the boat lurched, finding himself rising.

"Oh come on!" He barked as he moved to the forward of the skiff, plunging the oar into the ground beneath the water and placing his foot on the edge. The guide then pushed against the oar as hard as he could while squatting and putting his weight against the boat. "Lean back, damnit!" The skiff rocked forward again, pulling Dieder clear out of the water as its pilot barely managed to pull back in time.

The shaking didn't stop, however, as the krait converged on the river. As the first of them hit water, the ground erupted in a familiar spray of muck. As the water and mud fell, the krait was now held between three of eight scaly heads. A pair of enormous feet created another splash as they made landfall and the swamp hydra quickly tore its prey apart. Before the heads even finished their meals, the beast spun itself around with alarming speed and caught another running krait with its outer most head. Yet another was knocked aside by the shell as it leaped, gouged at the midsection from the sheer friction. Most of the others fled as the remainder were feasted upon.

All the while, the rat continued to row, pushing them towards the east. "Well...that's her meal for the month." He merrily said between exhausted gasps, his voice roughly back to normal. "Maybe even the next month." A few moments later, he reduced his paced and began to breath normally, a calm settling in again as they left the carnage behind. "And now you know what happened to the 'learned men', eh? You're a lucky one mister mercenary." The sun had already passed its zenith, though it would still be some time till it set. "Most times, gettin' knocked on you arse by a krait's a death sentence. They plug you with them tendrils and drain you to nothin'." In truth, he was more surprised at the means by which the creature was dispatched. They were typically quite resistant to magic, as he understood. Perhaps Garrod was a special case.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Dieder sat in the corner, and looked as if he had evacuated his innards, so hollow was the expression on his face.

"Hard to resist a lightning bolt," Garrod grinned, "Specially when you got a storm rod five inches into your neck, and a gash in your side," he said, his great sword laid across his chest as if a baby he held proudly, point down, the black-stained claw of the cross guard near his face. He gave the battle-worn blade a pat, and kept his eye on the Hydra who went on tearing through the krait's it'd killed.

"Some quick thinking on your part, Swamp Rat," there was a small laugh in his throat. "Using me as bait for the bigger beasty to come by," his eye turned back to the guide. "I can see how you came by your name, and why you wear it with such pride," he kept his eye on the man, his smile still worn and still strange.

Dmitry

 

[Dmitry]

The man at the oar chuckled with a crooked grin. "Nothin' quick about it," he said. "Saw the big ol' bitch was hidin' in the muck when we got there. The krait weren't exactly keepin' to themselves either."

Before he could continue, he spotted a pair of bluish grey stalks that sported pink flowers. After allowing the boat to slow to a stop just next to them, he reached over the boat and dug his hands into the mud beneath the water, slightly more shallow where the plants were. With a quick, decisive tug, he pulled them from the ground and revealed a bundle of six pointed tubers beneath the stalks.

"Star spuds," he muttered as he placed them in a sack on the skiff. "Get one of them fully formed like that and they'll keep you fed the whole day. They got a dish of'em at the drowned hog, over in the port. Big ol' mess-o-stew with whatever was caught thrown in. Think Hubert uses hooch in the broth too." With a lick of his lips, the Rat began rowing again. "He can help you get in touch if you got a job for me down the line. Just don' let'em start waxin' poetic. Ripe ol' fool about that, he is..."

The surrounding terrain soon became more overcast, the canopy thickening and the river shore solidifying somewhat as the terrain transitioned from marsh to swamp. While they had plenty of depth to move through, the river became visibly more narrow as they approached the south eastern side of the port, though the settlement itself remained out of sight. "You can pay me after we arrive." He said as their surroundings began to shift.

"Oh, and you lads might wanna check yourself for leaches after that dip. Welcome to the Delta!"

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod could think of worse people to hire than a cutthroat schemer. Risky, sure. But competency had its benefits.

"Thanks for the tip," Garrod said flatly, though his eye still carried that light of humor, and his lips still curled upward. He checked the back of his neck with his gauntleted hand, and sure enough, the plump wetness of a leach was there to meet him. He pinched the little sucker off, and yanked it from his skin. A tangible pull there as its teeth came free with the smallest pop.

He looked at the wriggly thing as the scenery around them changed, wetland turning to narrow river, with large trees growing thicker about them. He squished the little sucker between his fingers and tossed the thing into the water. "Wonderful," he said dryly, and reached up to pinch another parasite off of him.

Whence they landed, Garrod looked to Dieter, who, seemed to be recovering from the shock, and motioned for the professor to vacate the skiff. He exited, and Garrod looked to their crafty guide. "I'll keep you in mind if I'm ever unlucky enough to be back round these parts, Swamp Rat," he said with an easy smile. He could still feel the leaches squirmin on his back, but, was just the price of work in these parts. His fingers pulled a single gold coin from his purse, and he flicked it to the man. "For your expert service," he bowed his head, and turned to walk away and plucked free another leech before he flicked it away. "Wonder if they got any running water in the Drowned Hog," he thought aloud as his boots clunked against the old-wood dock.

Dmitry