~squish~

"Fething Korthyr’s balls!"

Breaking a branch, Talinvor scraped the offal from his boots and flung it as far into the distance as he could manage. The subsequent plop of it hitting the muck did not appear to improve his mood.

"It’s time," he argued to himself, rather matter of fact. It was only partly because he despised the swamp, but more because he felt that enough time had finally passed that Kothos might feel a little more desperate for his aid in saving Reynai from her horrid dreams. Reynai had been targeted more specifically with nightmares, seeing through Pashtal’s illusion. Her terror caused her to tear out her eyes in fear. The physical deformity could be healed, if she wished it - but for now, it was her internal belief that blindness was her safety.

“Why did I even offer to travel this wretched swamp again?” he wondered to himself. The sweat began to bead on his forehead and his clothing was stifling. Fanning himself, the erratic movement was less about cooling off as to keep the gnats from trying to fly up his nose.

The lack of any sort of breeze made the air thick and rancid. A burning sensation slid up his throat, and he retched as the scent of a decomposing creature lay halfway across the path. Pale maggots squirmed down into flesh and fur and emerged again as flies through the mouth, leaving and returning again in this cycle of decay.

"Putrefaction. Rot. These are the traits that Ivas claims now," he muttered to himself as he stepped carefully around to avoid soiling the bottom of his boots in something foul yet again. He hadn’t travelled through the Vipershroud much and the last he was at the temple here, the place was abandoned - absorbed in the same fester as the swamp. He wondered if it was the temple that caused the area to turn to swamp, or if the swamp caused the ruination of the temple. Still, it seemed that Kothos had made something of a home here and he hoped it was a bit more hospitable with creature comforts of wine and a hot clean bath when he arrived.

His mind found itself diving down that rabbit hole of philosophical questions, in an unexpected attempt to distract his sense of smell. He paired Arkati to their Lornon and Liabo counterparts and still failed to identify how Ivas paired with diseases and the rotting of flesh as this temple’s art depicted.

There was no breeze here, so the encompassing stagnation and stench of the air simply lingered. His mind forced himself to ignore it and continue his journey toward the temple. He considered his own teachings of Ivas were those of dangerous seduction - and reminded him how much he despised this particular representation of the Arkati. It fit more with whatever was the opposite of Imaera. “Was there one once?” he wondered to himself. “Can the Arkati absorb facets of each other when they die?”

He passed brackish water that stunk worse than old outhouses, causing him to struggle in maintaining his composure. The scent of sulphur made his eyes water as he passed a disgusting yellow pool that reminded him of a pustule. He watched it oozing over that cesspit as the foul air suddenly burst from its skin. Reaching into his pouch, he pulled a scented cloth over his nose and mouth but it did little to help. The air just started to smell like shite and flowers.

But before long, he was waving it like some tiny flag of surrender to the true masters of the swamp.

Bugs. Particularly the flying kind.

He had finally reached the large tree that was carved through for passage. The air steamed with the putrid scent of insects and held the deafening drone of a million tiny wings. His hand irritatedly waved before his face, then clamped the cloth to it again as he choked in breath. He scanned quickly for the way through, but had to quickly squeeze his eyes shut again to dissuade the tiny monsters from trying to purposely fly up into them and resenting that his spells required him to actually open his mouth.

He had to concentrate to escape this infested six-legged sanctuary, his fingers aiding as needed. A shiver of disgust ran though his body as something very leggy slithered over his hand. Finally exiting that confined space, he was relieved when the swarms left him alone to return to their haven. Taking a large inhale of breath in relief, he immediately regretted it again.

"Fething swamp! Fething bugs!"

His foot squished. Again. This time, the mud would not release it and his boot stubbornly stuck like a sentinel fortress surrounded by a moat of filthy water. Hopping to regain his balance, he tugged his boot free and slid his foot back within its cold clammy soaked leather. His fists clenched as he took a calming breath, then scraped what he could off a nearby log. In so doing, he disturbed a group of slugs freshly sliming a trail in their meagre escape. In irritation with his other boot he simply squished them in turn. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he scraped off the ichor by stubbornly scuffing a few steps down the trail.

He exhaled another long drawn out sigh. “Ivasians. Sheruvians. Will we have Koar zealots from Tamzyrr next?” He had meant to say that in his head, but it came out in a vicious oath of frustration as he trudged on, swatting at mosquitoes as he growled under his breath. "I did promise, didn’t I?” he muttered to himself for the hundredth time since his first step in the swamp. He needed to fulfil his agreement both to Reynai and to Kothos, and going to the temple would demonstrate sincerity when he said such things.

He recalled that promise too, reminding himself again why he was here. The children had simply been moved off the island, but the damage was in their heads. And nightmares aren’t something that distance will fix. He knew something of the subconscious mind and how to retain lucidity. Self control. The realm of dreams and emotions could be tapped into by his particular bardic skills. His fingers reached into his case, touching the small paper kite that had proven it.

Calling his attention away from his thoughts, a sharp buzz near his ear caused him to growl once again in annoyance as the little pests were simply too numerous to kill with any real permanence. Still, he pulled up his hood to shadow his face. A smirk played across his features as he added the words to his bardic undertone, "An’sui Dhar!" The enchanted air around him shimmered until it exploded into a resonating ring of force. Thousands of insects exploded outward with a squish and fell like rain with a satisfying plop to the ground.

With his vengeance satiated for the moment, he slogged through the boglands as quickly as he could. He actually looked forward to meeting with Kothos and hoping to the entire pantheon and Noi’sho’rah himself, that he had a stocked bar.


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