How far had it travel? How far COULD it have travelled? It was inconceivable that such a monstrosity could elude them for so long. But here they were again. Following another random trail, through another hostile area, hunting a foe that may or may not even be here. Was the money really worth the hassle... well of course it was but in principle it wasn't.

This hell-hole had consumed and destroyed the lives of many foolish warriors; men and women unprepared for the ever changing conditions that the swamp could unleash. There were pit-falls, bogs, quicksand, vicious animal... even some of the trees themselves seemed to snatch the unwary away from their lives.

The Dark Knight sat, perched upon a branch, high within the swamp's dense canopy. From here he planned out a safe route through the treacherous terrain, paying close attention to the flow of the water along the floor. Many had ignored these tiny rivers; passing them off as merely surface water. But no sooner had they done this, than they often found themselves being sucked down into the crushing oblivion of the underlying mudflows. Spying a row of tree roots that he could use as stepping stones, Vaul began to climb down carefully. The moisture in the air was already soaking his clothes beneath his armour through and they had only been in the forest for a few hours. If they couldn't pick up a trail soon then they would have to turn their attention towards finding a place of shelter for the upcoming night.

A sharp whistle echoed through the trees. One of his companions was in danger. Vaul jumped the last few feet down the tree and set off quickly in the direction of the sound. Twice along the way he had almost slipped on the roots. And twice he had almost ended head first in one of the many bogs.
Arriving at the source of the sound, Vaul had no need to call out to his partner... he could see plainly the reason for his distress. The most vicious killer the swamp had to offer was on the prowl. It swept across the flood like a tide, it entered their lungs and choked them, it covered their eyes and blinded them, and it plugged their ears and deafened them. The fog was rising. More lives had been claimed within the dreaded fog than men could count.

Vaul knew they had to find shelter... and fast. The tracking would have to cease for the moment. There were dangers hidden by the fog that even the Gods dared not mention.

The swamp was a desolate place in the middle of nowhere. It was very dark and gloomy with frogs, mosquitoes and dangerous creatures hiding in the shadows. Although the sun was up, the thick canopy covered the forest in darkness. Nofurye walked along the southern border of the swamp so he would not be stuck in the bogs and dangerous waters that ran through it. A large bird sat in a branch above the old man, eating a small rat it had just caught. A spider had made a large web between two trees. The strong material wouldn't last for long, but it was something it couldn't live without.

The spiral of death is a basic but frightening thing. We walk past it everyday without taking a second glance.

Rye smelled the air, the fog quite light at this time of day. However, the shadows were still creeping behind trees and slinking under long grass. The half elf stopped as he saw a figure perched in a tree. He looked like a warrior, one who was both dangerous and smart. He seemed as though he was scanning the swamp to find a way through, but that was anybodies guess. It looked like he wasn't alone. A group of mercenaries were scouring the forest, looking for someone or something.

A sharp whistle broke the silence. The man in the tree heard it and realized one of his companions were in danger. He quickly bounded down the tree, heading towards the direction of the scream. Nofurye was curious so he decided to follow him, trying to keep up with the mercenary. He headed into the swamp, dangerously running at full speed. Rye followed him for quite a while but just couldn't keep up. His bones were too old for it.

Now I have to get out of this damn swamp!

The old man was just about to turn around when he saw the man had slipped on a root. Rye started running towards him, trying to make up lost ground while watching where he put his feet. The Mercenary had picked himself up and started running when Rye was a few metres behind. It wasn't long before they arrived at the source of the sound and what happened shocked the old man.

That can't be good.

A deadly fog was killing the Mercenaries as they clutched there throats and fell to the ground. However, what made it worse was that it was becoming thicker and spreading towards Rye at a fast pace. The man in front of him was standing there, horrified by the dangerous fog as he watched his companions die. Rye looked around, trying to find some sort of shelter. He found something in a matter of seconds, twenty metres away. Strangely enough, it was a small cottage made of timber.

Why is there a building in the middle of a swamp?

He wondered if it was fate or something else but either way, the half-elf was quite lucky.

"There's a building just over there. Block your airways and look for as many people as possible. If you can't just get into that house!"

The fog was quickly but silently rising and Rye wondered if anyone heard him. For a second he thought he was the only one alive when an Orc slowly trudged out of the fog, clutching his throat.

"Quickly, we don't have much time! Follow me."

The Orc nodded as Rye started running towards the mysterious building. He didn't know if anyone heard his voice and was already inside but that's what he hoped because he couldn't see anyone else. He couldn't even see the man that he followed but he hoped he got away in time. Rye reached the door of the cabin and flung it open. His airways were already starting to block as he flew himself inside, waiting for the Orc to stumble in and slamming the door shut. After the old man caught his breath, he looked around to see if anyone else survived.

(OOC: I think the quality died out at the end but it was still okay :unsure: )

Kenyari was one of the other members chosen to find a being that was on the run in this dangerous place. This pit. Kenyari kept his sword out because this place was filled with many dangers and many wild beasts. Some weak some vicious. Kenyari had a smile on his face as he walked through the swamp. He knew he was about to get a nice kill in but he stayed patient. He only joined in this hunt because he got to do free worthless killing. He loved that idea.

Kenyari seemed to have changed. Ever since that fight that he couldnt get out of his head he has wanted nothing more but countless killing. He Continued on in the swamp as he looked around surveying the place looking for anyone else. He couldnt even see his friend sin. The person he came out here with. He seemed to drag sin into any killing mission he had to go into because he knew sin loved killing just as much as he did.

Kenyari sliced down some branches that were blocking his path. The fog at the time was low and he didn’t think much into it. He heard a whistle and a loud ruckus afterward. Like there was people running. "This mission we had to hunt something. If i can hear you from way over here then you cant hunt anything" he thought as he ran to where he heard everyone else running to. The fog rose quickly and this posed a huge problem for kenyari cause he has been in these swamps before and he knew that it would kill quickly.

Kenyari came to the other two people that were there and also a dead person who was killed by the unsuspecting fog. "Sin Where are you" he yelled trying not to startle the others that was near him. Suddenly the old guy that was with them darted for a house. Kenyari refused to go in there until his partner sin had come. Kenyri immediately darted up a tree to cover more ground. He saw many figures dying in the fog and wondered exactly how many people were there on the same mission. Suddenly he saw a figure running. Its tall and hairy appearance ran too fast for kenyari to get there without using and of his spells. "Damn" he said as he knew that was more than likely what they were searching for.

Kenyari couldnt find sin and saw that the fog was rising. He then jumped down and ran for the house. The orc had made it into the house and slammed and locked the door. That pissed kenyari off greatly. "That orc is now going to die by my sword" he whispered as he tried opening the door. The door was locked and could only be opened form the inside. "Nice going" he yelled as he ran back up the tree. He would be safe in the tree than in the house anyway. No way out of the house if its surrounded by a thick killing fog. Safer in the trees where you can still move freely but only problem was that dangerous creatures lurked in the trees. Kenyari could more than likely handle them all. "Sin" he called out once more as he climbed higher up the tree. Kenyari decided to just let it go. If sin needed to find him then he would have.

The air wasn't exactly FRESH in the marsh; if anything, it was damp, rather intoxicating. Everything was still besides the group of mercenarys' trudging footsteps through the marsh; she couldn't really see any of her companions, not that she wanted to. They were probably all hideous anyways, she thought bitterly, swinging some of her magnificent pink hair over her shoulders as she continued on. The marsh wasn't exactly the most pleasent place to walk through, she quickly realized, and regretfully began to think that maybe this job wasn't such a good idea to undertake after all. She had only been looking for something simple, she thought, but apparently looking for some damned ogre meant that they had to go through some wierd, poison infested grounds that probably were killing them slowly yet surely.

Nephilim sighed; the air was still still, and there was nothing she could do about it. The group wasn't really a friendly bunch (not that she could complain, considering she wasn't a social butterfly herself), but they could at least reply to her! She'd been complaining about how stupid and demanding the swamp was of her feet and legs, and one of the other members had kept telling her to shut up; well, she wouldn't have that, now would she? NO ONE tells Nephilim to shut up, she decided randomly, annoyingly walking faster through the mud and complaining about everyone elses' lack of haste. They all seemed to sigh at her antics, and she could hear one mumble about one thing or another. Whatever, she snapped in her mind, they can think what they want, but I'm not spending anymore time in here than I need to, ok?

A branch smacked against her face and she cursed, but ignored the "insult" completely. These woods were boring, she decided, and groaned silently, fuming inside of her mind. They had come to a slight clearing within the entire system of trees, fog, and mud, and she was actually quite happy; until she noticed a strange little fog rising up from the ground. Cocking her head, she noticed that it was not of the same color the other fog was - peculiar, she thought, swishing her arms through the air as if to evaporate the fog. It didn't work, she noticed, and the strange substance was almost solid; it was weighing her down. Her golden eyes widened suddenly; her teammates were starting to fall to the ground in pain. Damn it!

Nephilim's sun colored eyes hastily and frantically scanned the area, looking for anything to latch herself onto and climb her way up to the top. Nothing but the trees, she noticed, and she couldn't really climb very well. Cringing slightly, she saw another fall; oh, she was going to die here? How boring! Growling under her breath, she almost missed the words of the elderly man that rode with them (or walked, she stupidly informed her inner self).

"There's a building just over there. Block your airways and look for as many people as possible. If you can't just get into that house!"

Yay! She hollared in her mind, Saved! She began to run, dash, rather, and was smiling like an idiot as she approached the door rapidly. But, sadly, she tripped; on what, she wondered? Quickly looking down with a terrible glare on her pretty face, she saw the tree had grabbed her; not just made her trip, like a root, but had actually gripped her ankle. Her eyes widened, and her sword was drawn in an instant, hacking at the branch for a few moments, scurrying away from the tree and avoiding a sudden burst of roots attempting to knock her back down to the ground, but unable to avoid the sudden onslaught of roots and little veins from the poisoned dirt below her that made her fall once again; they began to drag her, and she lost control of her hacking and let going of the sword handle. The blade shifted through the marsh, and she visibly cringed; she was going to be killed by nature. How ironic.

"Damn!" She heard, and she looked up hopefully.

"H-hey! Down here, help, you moron!" She screamed, but considering the rest of the screams that were going on, the chaos was practically smothering her to keep her from living. Yep, Lothlomendil had it in for her, she could tell. So what, I abandoned the church, she thought bitterly, what do you care? It's my freakin' life, I can do what I want with it! Subconsciouly she knew that Lothlomendil had nothing to do with it at all, but she really didn't have time to care at the moment. The man wasn't going to help her, she thought, deadpan. "Thanks a lot, jerk!"Seeing that the man was not going to help her, she flailed a bit against the vines and eventually gathered up an idea; ha, she thought, smirking to herself before quickly putting the plan into action.

She crawled first, then ran; she was upright, straining against the strength of nature as she ran TOWARDS the tree, kicking at the vines and eventually reaching the trunk before kicking herself up to one of the lower tree branches; here, she landed sloppily, but well enough, and she launched off the branch and sent herself flying towards another branch, grabbing the wood hungrily and not letting go, her strength never giving out. Sweat trailed down her forehead as she tried to keep herself up, but she managed, pulling her lithe frame up onto the branch and happily sitting up to behold her "throne" over the dying crowd, house, and tolerating the man that sat a few branches over from her.

But she didn't know how high the fog would rise; then she and her mentally-accepting partner up in the branches would die inevitbly, she thought sadly, looking down towards the group and screaming to try and get their attention; they had to survive, she thought. In her ushering, though, she slipped.

Roland smiled at the lizardwoman. "Zhanna, you have really out done yourself. When I said I did not feel comfortable coming to visit you in the swamp because it just did not feel homey enough, I had no idea you would get all the Lizarians together and build me a log cabin in the middle of nowhere."

Zhanna grinned, pleased by the words of the tall human. "We take care of our own. The Lizarian tribe has not forgotten how you sheltered their youngest kin when she set out for Port Adune. Like all true Lizarian, she could do little more than grunt and point, yet you aided her. A long journey, yet you brought her back here safe and sound. Riches and rewards were offered, yet you declined those as well. Having this cabin built lets us finally return the favor to you, to give you the same hospitality you showed young Andemosa."

Roland nodded. He knew it was lonely for Zhanna out here. Once a full human, now a were-lizard, she shared the appearance of the lizards but still had the mind and gift of speech of a human. "It is a nice little cabin, cozy and comfortable. I shall treasure this gift, and shall 'bask on the rocks at noon' here."

Zhanna paused then, hearing something just outside the door. "What is-- what is going on?"

Suddenly the door slammed open, and several figures came running in, just ahead of the deadly fog. The lizardwoman retreated behind Roland as if he was a rock she could hide behind. She did not want any to know she could talk.

Roland however, merely smiled at the mercenaries. He appeared to be a harmless man, unarmed and unconcerned. "Hello, boys. I'm Roland, and this is Zhanna. I might as well invite you in since you're already here." He indicated a bottle of wine on the table and some tankards if anyone was thirsty. "Now then? What's all the fuss and racket going on?"

Three had fallen; their bodies already starting to sink into the putrid mud of the swamp floor.

Looking around at the various people who had gathered, Vaul tried to judge the best route of escape. Suddenly an orc burst from the undergrowth; the same one who had been in his mercenaries; slammed into Vaul and ran terrified after an elderly man who had been following Vaul for sometime now.

Hitting the sodden earth hard, Vaul could only make out the words, "Building... Airways... people as possible... just get... Damn... Orc... die... Down here, help. The words were muffled and melded together but the last words stuck out in his mind... the little one. She had stormed off ahead after the others had teased her. Where was she? Pushing himself up Vaul scanned the area, just in time to watch the girl vault into the trees. Smart girl.

Lowering his eye very slightly, the sudden realisation was enough to propel Vaul to his feet. The fog was mere feet away from him and closing the gap fast.

Running to the nearest tree, Vaul began to climb but realised, to his horror that the same condensation on his armour had made the tree too slick to climb. And now it was too late... the fog had circled him and was already beginning to take hold.

His lungs burned, his eyes watered, his very muscles felt like iron as they were starved of oxygen. His head swimming, Vaul glanced up at the tree, his safety lay only feet away... but it was no use now. His strength was waning and he couldn't make it.

Darkness began to creep in as he watched the tree... all other thoughts lost from his mind... Vaul began to reflect on his life. 'It is odd; I will die here, not in any battle. I will fall and rot, my body will decompose and become your life great one.' Suddenly an idea hit him...

Forcing his mind to clear through sheer strength of will... Was it sentient enough? He knew the possessed a life of their own, but was it enough? Drawing on the last of his strength, Vaul slammed his fist into the tree while forcing himself to chant the words that had poisoned his soul.

Nothing... no... Wait... there. Slowly at first but growing fast, Vaul began to feel the life-force within the tree seeping into his own. The Vampiric Touch. Only twice had he used it, twice he had leeched the life from a poor soul to rejuvenate himself. But now... now he could feel the life of the tree... of the planet. It was agonising yet blissful all at once.

His strength returned to full, Vaul found it almost impossible to pull away from this source of infinite life. He could feel the years melting away. He felt renewed, young... powerful. In one desperate tug, Vaul dragged himself away, knowing that he had just felt a power no mortal should ever know. Returning to his current predicament he drove his hands into the tree trunk once more but this time to scale the tree. Dragging himself up, Vaul crawled up out of the all consuming fog and slumped over the branch of the tree, gasping for the, relatively, fresh air.

(OOC: I'm not happy with this post but I'm lacking any inspiration so I apologise.)

Nofurye looked around the log cabin, immediately spotting the two figures that occupied the small building. They looked scared and confused, the Lizarian hiding behind the middle-aged man. Rye wondered why a cabin was in the middle of nowhere with a Man and a Lizarian inside. He thought they might have been warped to another dimension or maybe even heaven but he knew that that wasn't possible for he saw the cabin from the outside. The Orc was strange, his green skin and leather armour quite ugly and repulsive. The old man wondered if he knew Adunaic, for he knew not many Orcs knew the human dialect. Rye knew the strange language of the Orcs, a mix of the languages he already knew. It took him a day to learn it from one who visited his cottage in Estolad. Rye drew his attention towards the blonde man as he spoke.

"Hello, boys. I'm Roland, and this is Zhanna. I might as well invite you in since you're already here. Now then? What's all the fuss and racket going on?"

The mans voice was both intelligent and annoying and Rye didn't like the fact that Roland called him a boy. When your two hundred and fifty eight years old, you're not a boy. He wanted to hit him over the head with his staff, but stopped himself for Roland had made an effort to be polite to his strange guests. He noticed that he pointed to the bottle of wine sitting on the table. The Orc looked confused, obviously not understanding Adunaic. He didn't even understand it when Roland pointed his finger towards the alcoholic beverage.

Stupid and brain dead, every Orc's the same.

Rye didn't understand why the annoying blonde haired man was being so polite to them, even to an Orc who smelt like rotten egg. Zhanna seemed to be scared but Roland was quite happy that he had guests.

"There is a poisonous fog killing innocent people out there. We had to find refuge and this was the only place. And can I ask you never to call me a boy or I'll hit you with my staff!"

Rye looked at Roland with a cold stare but then quickly composed himself as he realised how rude he was being.

"Sorry, I'm a little on edge at the moment. Do you mind if we stay here until the fog subsides? I would like a glass of wine if you’re offering."

Rye looked towards the Orc again. He didn't know who he was and what he was thinking but he didn't want to turn his back on the ugly creature. He didn't want to turn his back on any of these people for that matter.

(OOC: I had a good post written but then accidentally deleted it! It was so much better than this one, it was rushed :( )

Roland blinked, staring intently at the two visitors to the cabin. For the first time he really looked at them, and realized that they were in fact an orc and an old man.
The latter seemed a bit affronted, but Roland would talk to him in a second. First he had to deal with the orc. Because the orc had apparently been running for his life, and was now choking, confused, and angry. None of those three alone was a quality you ever wanted in an orc, but the combination of all three might yet prove deadly. To him, the orc appeared to be a volcano ready to erupt. If Zhanna was not here, Roland might have considered deliberately sparring with the orc, to let the creature work out some aggression, but as it was he did not know if that would actually release pent-up energy or just start stoking the famed orc blood-lust.

He sighed once then, deeply, slightly frustrated that his lack of experience with these creatures prevented him from making a wise decision right away. Still, the only way to gain any experience was to try.

He took a deep breath, smelling the orc. Sulphur. The creature must eat lots of chicken and eggs. He did not know of any 'swamp chickens' in the area-- though some might be lurking around-- but plenty of creatures in the area laid eggs. He went (slowly) to the cupboard, and pulled out a gila egg, then rolled it along the floor towards the orc. He didn't care if the creature ate it, kicked it, stepped on it or smashed it to bits, but at least it would hopefully give the green-skinned orc something immediate to focus on while he talked to the old man. And Zhanna.

"A deadly fog? I did not know of this... I am a stranger to these parts. But I have a feelings someone here does."

The woman behind him blushed, and glanced towards the floor, not looking either Roland or Nofurye in the eye. "Perhaps gratitude was not the only reason the tribe wished you to visit. Perhaps an evil Swamp Witch is demanding tribute, and punishing the tribe for not giving in to her. Pink skin and gold of eye, she is about forty years old, perhaps elven, always wearing a dress of many colors."

Roland glanced at her, then turned to the man. He had not yet figured out the whole aging thing, and rather thought that he himself looked fourteen. There were some basic concepts that he was still working out, such as names and ages. It had taken him some time to grasp that Moonstar, for example, was the name of an elf. The wine thing he was rather proud of though, and now almost always remembered to use his mouth and not his ears anymore.

He smiled at Norfurye."Yes, please sit. There is a basket of mathug bread rolls there as well." He stretched his arm out to the left, palm facing upwards. "And no need to apologize, for I was wrong to call you a boy. So Norfurye was a girl and not a boy? Roland still had trouble telling the sexes apart. He thought his own appearance was that of a 14 year old black female. Surface trivialities were so hard to grasp!

"H-hey! Down here, help, you moron!" was what kenyari heard. Kenyari looked down to find some loud mouth girl climbing her way towards him. "Great. another loud mouth in my presence. These people just don’t learn." he thought as he didn’t move a inch to help her. Kenyari hated the good and probably hated the people who were like her even more. Kenyari sighed as he sat back and watched the few people on the swamp floor being mauled by the fog. "Beautiful" he said to himself as he watched them die. Kenyari had really changed ever since he teamed with sin. He used to have some consideration for other but now he just wants to see the death of them.

Thanks a lot, jerk!" the girl had said once again. Kenyari snarled as the anger towards her started to rise. Kenyari resent her already and he didn’t even know her name. HE put one hand on the hilt of his sword devastation when he decided to just let it go. He sudden turned his attentions to Vaul. He struggled to get up the tree and figured he would rather help him than the loud mouth girl that was now sitting on the same branch as his. Kenyari directly below him as he saw the house that he was kind of locked out of. Kenyari looked for a large branch or something hard. He soon large branch above him.

"Perfect" he said as he used his sword to slice therough the tree easily. The blade he used was one that he had received from sin because his old sword broke. He put it back in its sheath as he looked at the girl. He then took the branch and let it drop. It fell relatively fast and was apparent that he was aiming for the house below him. He heard the loud crash as it slammed through the roof of the house. "That’s for not letting me in" he yelled down peering into the house from where he was. He had noticed that the house was not empty and two other people he did not know were in there. He chuckled to himself as he say back down and waited for the fog to go away so that he can continue onward with the search. He had then turned an evil look to the girl sitting next to him. He snarled again as he got up and started to move away from her before the anger in him swelled again. He looked around and saw a beast like figure with followers running through the fog below. He noted where they were headed as he wanted to wait for the rest of the party before he gave way to a full chase to the beings.

Nephilim steadied herself, her eyes suddenly matching up with the beast that the jerk next to her must have seen; a few more were with it, she noted, and she smirked quietly to herself; the party is in so much chaos that the thing is taking it's chance to escape. Obviously the troll, she noted, as it probably would use something sneaky and enviornmental to its advantage. Trolls seemed to know their respective area well, so she wouldn't be surprised if she was right. But it was getting away! She hollared at herself in her mind, her fists clenched and the sweat dripping down her forehead. The man next to her did nothing; idiot! She thought bitterly and ragefully, and promptly readied herself before jumping to the forest ground below.

Nephilim held her breath tightly, covering her mouth as to not inhale any of the toxic gasses. The thing (troll) was getting away! She looked fast; gotta find my sword, she pondered, quickly searching through a mix of dead roots and marsh...stuff. Ew, she thought, making a face before hiccupping slightly; she was running out of breath. Where was that god forsaken sword? Her hands cautiously made their way to the ground, and she searched, felt, tried to find the answer to her problems. She felt something, suddenly, but it wasn't that of her sword handle; a dead body. She flinched, backing away, and momentarily lost control of her breathing-issues before hastily making an escape away from the dead. Sword, sword! Where the hell was it? Her hands searched, her feet searched; and finally, somehow, she found it. This whole procedure had taken less than thirty seconds, so she couldn't help but revert back to her old ways and thank Lothlomendil.

Sword now in hand, she jumped up, spotting the trolls disappearing into the brush (well, she predicted they were trolls of some sort). Growling, she chased; she ran as fast as she could, not taking into account that there were other party members to wait for. Stumbling a bit and looking back, she harshly yelled at the party, "Hurry up, guys! It's getting away!" And, without any consideration, she went after the beast by herself.

((OOC: A little short :3 Sorry.))