Wurzag stumbled through the deluge which by now had become almost blinding in its intensity and and tried for the hundredth time to figure out where he was. He was tired, angry and wet and his armour had begun to itch. Somehow some of the numerous blood-sucking insects that infested the tropical forest had managed to creep in and were gleefully feasting on his flesh with effusive delight. He had abandoned the strange doctor and the massive bat over an hour ago, confident that he was heading directly for his coach back to Lomedor, but apparently that assertion had been incorrect. He paused, wiped a cascade of water from his brow and peered into the sodden gloom.

There was nothing to see, just the gray haze of the rain and the immense jungle foliage that sprang enthusiastically from every bare patch of earth. There was also an abundance of mud, thick, clinging mud that coated his legs to the knee and further aggravated the incessant itch.

The green-skin was about to spit the latest of a long string of colourful curses to his lupine familiar when his attention was drawn to a curious sucking sound. Then the muck beneath his feet shifted and he was deposited face first into the liquid sediment. For a few heartbeats Wurzag was unable to do anything except thrash frenziedly in the suffocating sludge as his armour filled with water, and then a pair of bestial paws grabbed him and pulled him from the mire. At least the mud bath had eased the awful itch that continued to crawl across his skin. The half-orc spat a gobbet of muck and he blinked owlishly at the softly glowing familiar with an expression of mixed gratitude and annoyance.

Then the ground gave way again and the pair found themselves part of a huge mudslide as it coursed down an eroded riverbank. Despite their uncontrolled and terrifying plunge toward the foaming waters, Wurzag couldn't help but enjoy the respite from the itch that the mud afforded. He made a mental note to look into anti-itch potions once they finally made it back to Lomedor, though as the murky river loomed closer the 'when' shifted status into a definite 'if'. At the last moment before impact the half-orc managed to coil his legs beneath him and leap toward the centre of the flow, though the weight of his armour swiftly dragged him beneath the surface. Blind and floundering and running short on air all thoughts of discomfort and the itch swiftly faded into insignificance as the more pressing concern of survival came to the fore.

He kicked, flailed and clawed at the murky depths with all his might, but despite his prodigious strength it was not enough. He was going to drown. Again however Froat came to his rescue and the monstrous lupine swam a bee-line for the nearest bank with a half-drowned Wurzag in tow. The half-orc lay there panting and gasping for a long time while the rain drummed down and he couldn't help but notice the return of the infuriating itch. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, sure that the world, everybody in it and especially the celestial fates had it in for him. The chances of incurring so much misfortune and such a persistent itch had to be astronomical without divine intervention. Suddenly suspicious he glanced about in search of the next inevitable bombardment that lady luck had prepared, but found nothing untoward.

Froat sat off to one side, its fur matted and sodden and its big ears drooped. It looked for all the world like a big, angry rabbit as it sat there shivering in the rain, a thoroughly miserable expression plastered across its features. The half-orc gave an involuntary chuckle at the sight and tried to imagine the creature hopping around and munching on a carrot like some sort of giant, red, holy rabbit God. The lupine did not look in the least bit amused.

Privately Wurzag wondered if the lupine had an itch as bad as his, though the insects did not seem to bother very much with the familiar, distracted as they were by the taste of orc flesh. Perhaps the beast had some sort of natural immunity, or perhaps the smell of wet dog drove them away, he couldn't be sure. Whatever it was, Wurzag was envious, if he didn't get something to cure his personal torment soon he was sure he would go quite mad. He reflected on the idea of the bunny God for a moment and wondered if he hadn't already gone mad and the itch was just a part of his own mental anguish.

Whatever it was they couldn't stay on the riverbank indefinitely; the storm continued unabated and the river was rising. It would not be long before their resting place was flooded and annoyances like an itch would become irrelevant. With a groan of exhaustion he hauled himself to his feet and gestured for the lupine to follow and the pair once again trooped off in to the forest. It was not long before they were once again hopelessly lost amidst the trees and the half-orc finally threw his arms up in exasperation. He had already used a great deal of his stamina to summon the magical map once, but without its assistance they could easily wander for days without finding the carriage.

Wurzag managed to ignore the itch long enough to mutter the spell incantation and with a grunt of effort a pale green light once again crawled across his palm and thrust its way into the earth. The effect was like looking into a hole in reality, only the view on the other side was not of some nameless void, but a tiny representation of the surrounding countryside. It revealed that they had strayed wildly from their original course, and that their uncontrolled slide had deposited them on the wrong side of the river for a return journey. It also revealed that there were buildings nearby, large ones, that looked very much like the edges of a larger city. Wurzag wondered who in their right mind would want to live in the rainforest given its storms, wild-life and itch inducing insects. Buildings provided shelter however and if not a hot meal then at least the possibility of a bed to pass the night in relative comfort. The residents might even have a cure for the infernal itch, though given the way his recent misfortune it did not seem likely. Without a second thought he turned toward the city and forged as direct a path as he could given the robust foliage and clinging mud. Froat shambled in his wake and though it never spoke, the look in its crimson eyes conveyed precisely how sick and tired it was of Taurerosa.

The journey took little over half an hour and by the time the pair burst from the tree-line into the relatively clear area that marked the edge of Talche'el the sun had dipped below the horizon and darkness had begun to descend in earnest. Wurzag breathed a sigh of relief as first one door, then another swung open and the residents emerged to meet him. They were a cosmopolitan bunch, but all wore the same cheerful, toothy grin and the half-orc gave them a friendly wave as he approached. He figured they must survive by fishing since several carried nets and yet more held what looked like barbed harpoons.

It wasn't until he was much closer that he realised that the grins were a little too toothy and that folks generally come out to greet you with the tools of their trade. By then though it was far too late and as the first net sailed toward him the itch seemed the least of his worries.