#dwarven lung

I’m still not quite used to the terrain of the bog. I found the Coffee Caps I needed without issue, but I got a little too curious around a unique patch of violent purple moss, which promptly began glowing and then exploded all over my leg. The muck below was boiling hot, but the burns are light enough for me to ignore, so I’ll continue on. Although I don’t immediately need more reagents from the bog, I really want to stay and poke around for a while. Neither of my patients are in urgent need, and thanks to my new Treatment Room I’m confident that they will be comfortable for the day.

I revisited the crashed airship I found on my first trip, and the Fairy Dust footprints I’d left on the tree below it were gone, as expected. I don’t know if the rest of the dust remained inside, because before I could climb up I spotted something else that has derailed my entire visit: Amethyst Antlers. At last! And not covered in bog slime this time! They were wedged between some of the roots, and I found hoofprints in the soft patches of solid earth between the stretches of swamp. Some buck has been shedding his horns, apparently, and I have a hunch that I might find more if I follow the trail.

I found another good chunk of shed antler about fifteen minutes away, although reaching for it tipped my boat over and I had to struggle to right it again and climb in. I lost nothing, thankfully, but I gained several leeches. The third piece of antler I picked up was halfway submerged in a dark pool, and much easier to reach. As soon as I tucked it into my bag I heard a loud, gurgling pop and looked back over the pool. Beginning slow but quickly growing in frequency, a number of strange bubbles were rising on the surface of the bog and exploding into rainbow-colored flames, which then shot into the air like a lightshow. It was honestly spectacular. I stayed to watch the fire until it all died down again.

I wish I had a wand. Some of this fire would make for a wonderful reagent if only I could catch some.

The game trail was getting a little harder to follow, but I still managed to stay on track, as evidenced by the fourth piece of Amethyst Antler I snatched from atop some kind of huge bone jutting out of the bog. As I pushed forward I saw more and more of the enormous bones. I assumed it was some kind of titanic creature that fell here – perhaps another giant – but I knew my guess was wrong as soon as I rounded the next bend and saw the skull. It was bigger than the Trippins’ shoe-house; its jaw could have held an amphitheater; its eyes socket alone was like the entrance of a cave.

It had once been a dragon.

As I passed closer to the eye socket, I noticed a pair of buzzards nesting there, and they looked down at me in turn. To my surprise (although I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point) they spoke, just as clear and understandably as that poetic toad from the other week, and they offered to tell me a story if I stayed a while. I moored my coracle and told them I’d love to listen. They took turns speaking in a lovely back-and-forth sort of narration as they spun their tale. I can’t recount the story very well here – I’ve never been much of a storyteller, and I took no notes while I was listening (I thought it might be impolite), but I can do my best to summarize.

This dragon’s name is lost to time, but she apparently ruled over this territory back when it was still an ancient forest and not a swamp. Mostly the story was about how the dragon protected her territory from an incursion of giants from the Cloud Isles, back when they were still an invading society at odds with the kingdoms below. The dragon and the Empress of Giants had once been good friends, but they grew into bittersweet opponents over time. The buzzard-bards described multiple confrontations as the two clashed over the Empress’ attempts to invade the lower earth.

One notable day, the dragon found herself blown by a hurricane into a forest of strangling vines beneath one of the largest Cloud Isles. Her breath had been doused, her strength worn thin by the storm, and the more she struggled the more tangled in merciless vines she became. She became trapped there for days, becoming weaker and weaker, and could not even cry out for aid for fear of bringing her enemies down from the topside of their floating isle to finish her off. A school of Nimbus Fish witnessed the dragon’s struggles and brought the information to the Empress of Giants, for they were her spies and messengers in those days. When the dragon saw the Empress’ skyship descending into view, she thought she was finished. The skyship opened fire – but instead of injuring the dragon it shot at the roots and far tangles of the vines that held her, breaking just enough of them so she could struggle free. The dragon broke from her bonds and, unsure if this release was deliberate or an accident of fate, retreated from the isle instead of attacking the skyship in return.

That was it for the anecdote the buzzards told me. It felt a little incomplete, just enough to make me curious for more, but I also realized that night was falling over the Bog and I should probably try to call it a day. I thanked them for their tale and moved my little coracle onward through the swamp. I lost the trail of the Amethyst Antlers as I paddled through another garden full of half-sunken statues – the ones with the screaming faces – but fortunately I found it again when I picked a piece up from a cluster of giant toadstools. I belatedly realized this was where the colossal Poetry Toad still sat, corpulent and sleepy. I nearly passed it by, as to keep from disturbing its rest, but when I drew close its eyes slid open and it began to speak, granting me another little snag of verse:

“The Dragoness sank into endless sleep, Bound with enchantments the young Wizard spoke; Imprisoned forever within her keep Until by chance the curse be broke. But woe to he Who found the key– And by foolish fate, the dragon awoke.”

After hearing the buzzards’ story, I’m beginning to suspect the toad’s poetry refers to the very same dragon. I wonder if it’s all true? I’ve decided I’m going to write down every rhyme the toad shares with me, to see if I can get a full picture of the tale in time.

As it was nearing twilight, I found my last piece of Amethyst Antlers along what looked to be the outskirts of civilization. I soon realized this was the edge of a village full of those goblins that kept running me off before…but I must have come around a better way this time, because instead of being attacked again I only met with a few wary fishers who watched me pass from a distance. After a while I found a crowd gathering closer to my slow-moving boat, but their faces went unexpectedly from uncertain to friendly, and through a sort of pantomime I managed to gain an invitation ashore. I tied up my boat and followed them straight into some sort of community dinner celebration. The food looked and smelled…nauseating, to be honest, but they seemed so eager to share it with me, and I really didn’t want to offend them or be chased off with rocks again. I smiled and held my breath and resigned myself to eating at least a little bit. To my utter shock, none of it was actually as bad as I feared, and for the most part the taste of everything was much more palatable than the smells – even if the textures were alarming. Although only a few of my dinner partners spoke the same language I do, it was an unexpectedly pleasant social experience. After dinner I was given a cursory tour of the town, which was fascinatingly constructed in a mixture of treetop architecture and something like dams or burrows within the swamp itself, with canals or bridges mostly serving as the paths in-between places. It turns out that there are actually two disparate tribes of goblinkind local to this swamp, and these were entirely different from the ones that were so aggressive with me before.

During my tour, Shadow suddenly began acting very strangely, hissing and growling at – well – shadows. It was alarming my hosts so after a few instances of this I asked what was the matter, and he directed my attention to a creature staring at us from the next bridge over. It has been following us, Shadow told me, and I could feel his irritation sharply. It is watching us. At first glance it was nothing but a rather angry looking little monkey, very small – If it weren’t for Shadow’s eyes I never would have noticed it against the trees. Its fur glistened golden, reflecting back the lurid evening swamp lights. I decided it must have been a pet, because if was far too clean to be a wild animal living in the swamp. It stared back at me for a few seconds, glaring with huge, almost bulbous eyes, and then it bared its sharp teeth and abruptly flew away – yes, flew, on wings feathered in green and gold that reminded me of a parrot. It had a long, silken-furred tail trailing behind.

I have never heard or read about any such creature before in my life, and honestly, this fact annoys me. Not to sound arrogant but I have done a lot of reading, especially when it comes to exotic animals. It’s something of a competition I have going with my elder brother Edhaas. I tried to ask my hosts if such monkeys were native to Blasfire Bog, but none of them had seen it before it flew off, and I was told that they had in fact never seen anything like what I described. Perhaps I can find more resources on such things back in High Rannoc…or, perhaps I’ll get another glimpse whenever the creature shows up again. After all, it was intelligent enough to follow us, and for some reason it had been watching us. Whatever it wants may yet become clear in time.

[continued in PART 2 here]

OOC: Rep – 19 [Intermediate] Silver – 74 Tools – basics / coracle / sickle (+2 foraging points) Familiar skill – Hunter (-3 to find Animal reagents) Golem Helper: learning to read & write

Upgrades: – Garden plot (x1; Surgeon Sap) – Raven Loft (take 2 jobs; if both on time, x2 pay for second draw) – Treatment Room (+3 all Timers, +10 silver /successful potion)