The Marshes

Well, this is it. As I stepped further into the darkness, I knew there was no going back. No magic, no higher power, no parents, no honorables would be able to reach me in this forsaken land. Where I now tread, few have been before. Most of them have not returned. Smoke bellows out of the ground, sulphuric clouds obstruct my view. The smell is putrid. My eyes are teary, my lungs are having trouble taking in oxyen. I know what is behind this cloudy mess I am in. Yet still, my heart is beating rapidly in anticipation.

Fortunately, I came prepared. My short sword, engraved with a large arrayof magical spells and also curses, hangs on my side. I trust that piece of metal more than anything. Why are there spells and curses on my sword? Well, I can show you in a minute, as I am convinced that a new spell will soon be etched into the hard metal. My shield is hung on my back. Not only is this a comfortable spot to keep it, but it also prevents my back from getting attacked. The hard wood, encased in a thin layer of metal, will prevent any blade or arrow from piercing my body. Although, it has been close once, the Organtho's ballista has succeeded to shatter my shield once. Good thing it wasn't on my back that day, I would not have lived then.

First, I must make my way through the marshes. It is a little less cloudy here fortunately, so any dangers from the front will be detected as soon as my eyes allow it. I draw my blade, just in case anything creeps up out of the bushes. Thick bushes make it a little difficult to traverse this terrain, but I have dealt with this before.

Rustling leaves tell me something is coming. I let my left left hand run over my short sword, the tiny letters engraved in it light up. I quickly lift up my right arm, extending the sword into the air, as I do this, a sudden bright light is emitted from the sword. As the fog clears for this light, I can see clearly who or what is hunting for me. It is a young Skruve welp, an easy enemy to defeat. In its younger years Skruve dogs are as big as a wolf, and grow way beyond that size in 1-2 years. The Skruve has bright red eyes, insanely muscular legs, which allows them to lunge at their enemies to deliver devastating blows with their knife-like claws, a long torso encased in tough, hairy skin. The older they get, the tougher the skin gets, which makes these creatures very hard to kill at a more developed age. This is just ideal for me, I think as I lower my sword, and take it in my hand backwards. I shift forward, making a 360 degree turn, the underside of my foot kicking the Skruve in the snout, while at the same time extending my arm holding my sword, piercing the still relatively soft skin of the Skruve, right in the spot of where the heart is. A loud cry of agony, and the deed is done. I rip out the two biggest teeth and put them in my pocket. At home, I have a fairly large collection of teeth, trinkets to remember my battles with the horrid creatures that dwell in these dark areas.

I walk on, cleaning my blade on my trousers, leaving a dark blue stain on the fabric. These damn creatures with their blue blood, I think. As far as I know, these animals are the only creatures with this color blood coursing in their veins. Suddenly, I hear a soft cry in the distance. I come to an immediate standstill, and hold my breath in an attempt to listen better. Again, a panicked scream for help! I quicken my pace as I run towards the sound. Bushes seem to attack my face with their branches, my face gets battered with thorns and small sticks. The light coming from my sword isn't gone yet, I hold my sword in front of me so I don't fall into one of the many holes and crevices dug by the Kilma, some sort of large, flesh-eating rabbits. The holes are usually big enough to let a full grown man fall in, and forever disappear. Once you fall in, the legend goes that a pack of Kilma rushes towards your position, and will start consuming your flesh as you are still alive. The Kilma only eat fresh meat, so they will somehow always keep you alive for long enough for them to enjoy the freshest bites.

Another faint cry pierces my thoughts, and makes my skin crawl. A few flashes of red light tells me enough. Yes, this is a cry for help, but not an actual fearful cry. Sometimes, adventurous people with no sense of how to survive these terrible lands get caught by Suru Witches. The Suru are people that, after being expelled from society for their demonic rites that they used to take revenge on their fellow human brothers and sisters for whatever reason, turning them into the most awful human derivatives I have ever witnessed. No longer able to stand, feed, drink or communicate, they slowly die an agonizing death, not being able to express emotions or needs. Their brain stays intact during this whole ordeal, so those poor sods experience everything that happens to them. The Suru have not been seen among humans for at least a century and a half. The few that remain in the marshes have adjusted their lifestyle, way of hunting and also widened their range of curses. The cry for help is being outed by a regular woman, but as I come closer to the cage she is being held in, I can see that she is levitating, most likely thanks to a Suru curse. Her limbs paralyzed, same as most of the muscles in her torso. She seems at the end of her life, as she is incredibly skinny. The cries for help have been inserted into her brain by the Suru through hypnotization. It's just another bait to lure more humans into their lair, so that they can either just kill and feed them to their own Skruve dogs which they use for quick transport, or use live humans for their own evil rites. Whatever it is, I must end this woman's suffering, especially if she can still be saved. I rush towards her, but when I get almost close enough, a heavy force pushes me back! I grab my shield, and start pushing back with all the strength I have, slowly coming to a full stop.