After we had attended to the matter of the goblin's den, some of us were all for striking back to the road, to make camp and proceed on our journey to the witch. Apple Rabbit would have none of it. In a strangely energetic mood, considering all we had been through, she exhorted us to continue into the swamp, insisting that the way would be shorter and more direct. In any case, she refused to camp anywhere near the goblin remains, and so we set off through the mire.
After a journey of an hour or so, we found a spot adjudged to be a good place for a camp: the ground was relatively high and dry, and there seemed to be no immediate threat in the area. It was unusually quiet; AppleRabbit seemed perturbed that there weren't more tracks or spoor in the area. We choose to remain nonetheless, and to post double-watches throughout the night: first Apple and Eckbert, then Zinna with Urik and Rorick with his bird in the darkest hours, and finally C'hallah and I to welcome the dawn. I settled in for the night, not really expecting to be able to sleep all the way though until my watch. I hate it when I am right.
I was awakened by shouts from Rorick that we were being advanced upon. It was pitch-black; I could only assume my companion's dwarven eyes had seem something in the dark. I murmured a spell and threw magical light on a stone in the ground, illuminating the scene. I could see Rorick standing steadfast on the edge of our little rise, and at the edge of the torchlike light I barely made out a group of unearthly figures moving toward us. I sent C'hallah to defend Rorcik and roused myself for battle, as my comrades were doing.
We formed a skirmish line as the creatures advanced; they looked something like the undead I have fought in the jangwa, but were the opposite of those desiccated skeletons - they were foul, soggy, pale creatures. They bounced like the marionettes I have seen in market shows, and moved as one, like a flock of birds, but were orienting themselves by smell, as I have seen camels do. The padded through the shallow water in a most unnerving way and were on us even before we could completely form up.
The attacks were vicious and the conflict ferocious; our best efforts seemed for naught as the creatures seemed to absorb our strikes with little damage as they clawed at us with vicious determination. Those struck - first C'hallah, then young Eckbert - not only felt their wounds, but also collapsed as if suddenly struck with disease or illness, rendering them unable to fight. Once bloodied, our ghoulish foes would concentrate their attacks on the injured, as if to destroy them completely.
It was that bloodlust that provided us with the strategy that allowed us to drag victory clear from the mud of despair: the wounded retreated behind our ranks, and as the monsters single-mindedly went for them and made to get past us, we were able to attack when they were vulnerable, finally turning the tide in our favor. Our success became guaranteed when dim Zinna finally realized that edge of her swords were more effective than the points against these monsters; once this stratagem penetrated her mind, she began to make quick work of her foes, and even sliced one gruesome combatant into pieces with a series of coordinated blows.
When the battle was finally ended, Urik set to work like a butcher, hacking the monsters' bodies into bits as the rest of the party caught our breath or vomited out the noisome effects of the injuries. The witch doctor seemed particularly unnerved by these creatures, muttering over and over how unnatural they were and naming them unfeeling where I saw undead, as if that distinction were more important.
After this episode, we were exhausted, especially those that had been sickened, and wanted nothing more than to continue our interrupted sleep. AppleRabbit, however, had other plans for us. She insisted that we could not stay at this campground - that the blood we had spilled would attract other predators. She elaborated that nighttime was particularly unsafe in the swamp, as it was when most threats abounded, said that only in the muggy heat of the day could we safely sleep, and demanded that we keep on the move until full daybreak. So we slogged on.
I cannot express in writing how awful the swamp is. Every step makes one wetter, from standing water, from splashed water, from dripping water, from humidity, from brushing wet foliage, from the sweat of exertion. The trees make a canopy that blocks the feeble light from this northern moon, and stars - forget stars. It is nothing but a dank, dark box, a basket woven of shit and compost. Rorick was clearly ill at lease, less concerned with the wet than with the lack of any really solid ground for his dwarven feet to plant on: he looked like he was walking on the eggs of poisonous snakes. Eckbert and Zinna just looked miserable as they trudged, and even Urik was not spouting his usual platitudes of pain. In contrast, Apple was in fine spirits: I have no idea how she navigated through the gloom, but her urgings moved us forward doggedly through this moist hell, until, of course, as usual, it got worse.
Our first notice of trouble was Zinna's sudden stopping. She had been taking point, and all of a sudden she froze, like a bird dog who has caught scent of a zombie. It turns out she was not vigilant, but stuck - as Urik found when he hastened to her side and was similarly caught. Both had stepped into some kind of sticky trap that held them fast.
Exactly what kind of trap we soon found out, as Eckbert and I both dodged webs sprayed from some spiderish creature in the overhanging branches. Something had laid an ambush for us, and it was effective. After the first fusillade, more webs sprayed down, and Eckbert and I were held as fast as the two half-orcs. Applerabbit managed to hide outside the webbed area near a tree with C'hallah, who was in no condition to render anyone aid, and began firing shots with her sling. Rorick managed to use his blink magic to move out of the sticky mess and engage with his axe.
It was a slow torture. First one creature, a sort of spider-man, harassed the van; then his brother or mate appeared behind me and raked my back most viciously. The horrible creatures attacked us, entangled as we were, almost at will, and with each blow we could feel poisons eating away at our vitality; some of us managed with effort to fight off the symptoms, but some of us succumbed and became slower and less effective, hastening us to our dooms through increasingly futile defenses. Zinna squirmed and danced but could not free herself for the longest time; Eckbert took many blows and I saw him fall, bloodied and bowed yet still conscious. It looked grim.
Finally, Zinna freed herself and joined Rorick and his bird in their assault on the first creature to devastating effect. Urik cast blood on the creature attacking me and felled him, giving me the chance to deliver a serious blow on his helpless form. By the first faint fingers of dawn I saw Rorick cleave his foe; my hopes flew high, but were dragged back to the fetid earth by a severe blow from my enemy, who was still fighting. My vision swam and the world turned blacker.
I awoke in a campground to the not-so-tender mercies of Urik. He and AppleRabbit were moving amongst the party, healing wounds and trying his best to stem the ill-effects of the spider-man poison. It seemed that the battle had been won after I fell; Urik had slashed himself free and between his attacks and AppleRabbit - little AppleRabbit! - landing a telling blow with her tiny club, the last creature was dispatched. The party and C'hallah had dragged me away with them and we finally made camp in the shelter of the swelter of the day.
A full cycle of sleep had passed ere I awoke, and several more hours passed as Urik attended to his healing duties. I felt awful, as we did we all, but grew stronger each moment as we rested; Zinna, Exckbert, and Rorick appeared not to fare so well, still showing some after-effects of the spider-poison. We finally were ready to make way again in the early afternoon; by whatever divination she was using, AppleRabbit assured us that we would find the oracle by sundown if we made haste.
We struggled on through the swamp; I cannot say that the daylight was more pleasant than the night and remain honest, but at least it was less dangerous. The falling sun filtered through the leaves above, making the going a bit easier, and the only creatures we encountered were herbivorous or asleep: nothing tried to kill us.
As night fell, we came to a decrepit shack on a small knoll rising from the swamp; it looked like nothing more than one of the squatter's shacks in the shantytown outside great Feck, with the added squalor of dampness and moss. My first thought (and I do not think I was alone in thinking this) was great disappointment - that AppleRabbit had been led astray and that our journey was fruitless. Then, in what would be the queerest night of my life, we found were were indeed in the right place. It is hard to remember it all, even though it happened less than an hour ago; I viewed it through the fog of fatigue and a veil of something else, something bewitching or beguiling.
We approached the house, if it can be called that, and AppleRabbit was beside herself with wonder, taking in the scene, dancing about, picking mushrooms - acting for all the word like C'hallah does when we discover a fresh oasis. Then, a beautiful woman approached us - more beautiful even than charming Sprig. - looking so out of place in this dreary landscape, yet clearly in it and of it. Apple nearly swooned - watching her was like seeing someone meet their lover, their mother, and their god all in the selfsame person. It was awesome, and just a bit disturbing.
Conversation ensued, friendly, but hard to follow. Isis - for that is indeed who she was, although she was known by other names as well - seemed to talk to us each in turn and yet all at the same time. Her mouth would sometime open but no words at all come out; then again, sometimes I would hear her speak and yet swear her lips were not moving at all. Rorick seemed to think she spoke with a Dwarven accent; I wonder if she was speaking at all of if we were hearing her in our heads. It was all very confusing.
AppleRabbit gifted Iris with the ring we had recovered from the goblins; the witch accepted it graciously if not over-gratefully and our little gnome once again blushed like lover. I attempted to offer her the fey-killing dagger we had taken from the Rashemi witch, thinking she might wish to rid the world of a threat to her; she wrapped it in a soiled cloth and disdainfully bade me put it away. I was happy to see my diplomatic skills had not changed; it gave me some grounding in the weirdness around us that I was still myself.
We entered the shack, which glistened like an apothecary with bottles and notions, to continue the chewing the meat of our conversation. Isis seemed only too happy to talk: in spite of - or perhaps because of - her being so deep in such an unwelcoming landscape, she seemed greedy for company. We continued our strange conversations - I noticed she gave me some signals about Urik, which I plan to discuss with him when I can, and another message that would be disquieting if not so ridiculous. These subtle communications - under-messages, if you will - are probably best dismissed, as is the babble of the marketplace and gossip of the caravan.
We addressed the purpose of our visit: Zinna gave Isis the bloody bag of bloody coins that she has been carrying ever since we found the dead miller. The oracle put them in her mouth one by one and seemed to be talking to the dead man. All I could discern from her mumblings was that the ambushers were not of the Seven Pillars; perhaps my companions will remember more, for that seems like we came a long way for very little intelligence.
Isis off-handedly answered another question in the course of her ramblings: without identifying who, she said that the rider whose tracks we had seen around the ruins of the pillaged caravan had taken the remains of the merchants back to Grelsh. And good friend Rorick revealed as Isis's prodding that he had originally been hired by Helion and the half-elves of Crespin to spy on the Nackle and that his encounter with us was no mere chance. His allegiance to us as a comrade-in-arms has never felt in doubt, but clearly he can present himself as a minion of Crespin and of Nackle and of the Stealer's Guild, so who knows where his real allegiance is. More mysteries.
Eckbert seemed to have had his full of mysteries and in the middle of the discourse burst out into indignant, inchoate rambling, then strode from the room.
The witch then seemed to want to converse more about the people we had encountered or heard of, but she spoke mostly in riddles so deep that poor Zinna faded to sleep on a bearskin rug even before the evening was over. The witch said quite a bit; I tried to write down her words as she spoke and have attached the parchment scraps hereto:
When talking was finally done, Isis said we would leave in the morning, and invited - no, commanded - AppleRabbit to sleep with her. The gnome was thrilled and stripped herself naked even before Isis was finished speaking, dancing her way to the messy bed. Urik found an uncomfortable place on the floor to rest, and I know not where Rorick took himself. C'hallah and I made our way outside to find Eckbert kneeling in prayer to Agrivarus - seeking to save his soul or his life, I do not know, but the boy may bear watching, given the strain he is - we are all - under.
That was it. I should sleep now. I hope I dream that I am back in Bandui, so at least while unconscious I can be dry and clean. For I know that tomorrow's - today's - journeys will be dreary and miserable. But at least we have accomplished our task and can return home.
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