Valnar forcefully pulled a leg out of the knee high muck releasing the rotting stench of decaying plants and possibly animals from the sticky, oozing muck of the swamp. Trekking through a swamp in midday hadn't been his best idea but the villagers had been insistent that he leave immediately and not wait for cover of darkness. The villagers had told him that the swamp became impassably dangerous at night and they would not allow him to venture into it under cover of darkness.  The whole reason that the drow was slogging through a swamp in the scorching heat of the day was the creature that villagers claimed was stalking their draining teams and killing without eating, the death toll was already at 35 and the villages were no longer sending draining teams. Valnar quickly gathered what he needed, mostly more information regarding the attacks, and headed into the swamp. The swamp itself would probably be what claimed his life even before he ever found the creature.

Valnar pulled his cloak through the muck and grasping brambles, wiped a muddy hand across his forehead and silently reviewed the information that the villagers had provided him. The attacks usually happened during the night while most of the draining teams were resting, no amount of barrier that the teams erected seemed to keep the creature from killing and, most unusual of all, there was no evidence of eating. Of course there were the expected tooth and claw marks but all the bodies seemed to remain intact despite how violent or how far away the body parts seemed to be. Valnar shook his head, it certainly didn't make any sense and as an aspiring ranger he was determined to discover the source of these unnatural attacks and put and end to it.

Quite suddenly Valnar's boot met firm, dry earth hidden underneath a patina of muck and Valnar gratefully stood on firm ground covered in sludge from his knees down. Valnar set to removing as much of the mud as he could, even being on dry land it would still be slow going if his legs were encased in a giant sheath of dirt. While his cloak and boots were drying in the sun Valnar began to scout the area, he should be getting close to the last draining camp that was attacked and he had a suspicion that he may have found it. The dry area it seemed stretched in a semicircular shape a couple hundred feet from where Valnar first climbed out of the swamp proper. At first there didn't seem to be any sign this was a draining camp then Valnar began discovering these small strange objects scattered through the mud. The objects appeared to be some sort of tube or cylindrical object, Valnar assumed they were used to drain the swamp either to siphon water away from the area or a magical item used to absorb water.

Valnar bent and removed one of the tubes from the ground and quickly dropped it back into the mud. When he had picked it up it had bent in two places and had a bloodied end, Valnar was standing in a field of fingers. Fighting through his revulsion Valnar collected all the fingers that he could find and the number had come to 25, 25 fingers within just a couple hundred feet of ground. "Something horrible has happened here." Valnar thought, "Something horrible and against the laws of nature. No creature I know would leave something like this, unless this isn't a creature? Could the villagers be confused?" Valnar wished he had some way of destroying the fingers but what little wood there was couldn't be lit for the water and mud and he knew no fire spells, he ended up digging a deep hole with his foot and burying all the fingers within.

Valnar stood a moment wracked by the implications of these attacks. The violence, the savagery didn't fit with any animal he knew most attacks you'd find a nearly complete corpse with pieces missing because they'd been devoured. This was almost backwards, he had pieces but the corpses were missing and he had a sinking feeling that, given a bit more searching, the corpses would be found not far away.

It was nearing dusk when Valnar, cut and spattered in mud, found the corpses he had been looking for, 3 to be exact. The bodies were fresh and had attracted all sorts of swamp parasites to feed but there were no large chunks missing as one would expect from a large animal attack. Leeches covered almost every inch of exposed skin sucking every ounce they could from the quickly coagulating veins, beetles and other insects were removing pieces of exposed flesh that the leeches hadn't touched or were done with and, judging from the way that one of their arms were writhing, something rather large had worked it's way inside.

Valnar trudged back to where his boots and cloak were conjured up a hearty soup within knotted bit of bark he had found and began preparing for the long and miserable night ahead of him. The drow placed his boots back on, now full of mud inside and out, fastened his cloak and dug a lounge type chair in the surrounding mud. Valnar was not going to sleep this night.

The Lone Fisherman was finally going to sit down and perform his namesake. Fishing.

He had traveled many miles through the spongy ground of the Moritius before he decided to get the evening catch. The sun was already behind the treeline and cast eerie, long shadows which meant that the fish would be more eager for a bite to eat. The shade spread out like a spiders web that grew ever thicker; waiting to trap unsuspecting pray. Kreed had mixed feelings on swamps. He knew that the traveling was hard and there could be potentially more dangers than just leeches or footrot. Yet, being a man of balance, he could notice the beauty that was here in the swamp. There were unique and rare plants that were not only beautiful, but had useful medicinal properties as well. The fireflies set the night into a glittering cascade of flashing luminescence. Even now as The Lone Fisherman set down his fishing pole and trident the tiny glowing insects were leaping in and out of the secret places in the swamp. The old monk recognized another useful beauty that was residing in this swamp.

The Fish.

Kreed had heard of rare types of fish that waited in the murky depths. Casteral Catfish that held gold in their stomachs. Adsuda Fish that had a special oil that could cure blindness. And (the more scandalous of the fishes) the Yesee Fish that, when consumed by another, would fall hopelessly in love for the next person they see.

The monk chuckled under his breath as he thought of this last species of fish and took his pipe out of his sleeve. He baited his hook, lit the pipe, and sat down with his meditative position. He knew of the places to catch these rare fish and knew the preferred diet that the fish preyed upon, yet Kreed had not had the opportunity to catch rare fish such as these. He was looking forward to the catch of the evening. Despite this simple yet cleansing ritual of fishing that he was engaged in he had other reasons to be in the Moritius swamp. He was called upon by other monks and druids that were concerned about the balance of life here in the swamp. This group of monks and druids were working with certain villagers who had undertaken the task of the continual drainage of the swamp to make way for lush farmland. The monks were worried that the villagers might take the "control" of wildlife a little too far. Kreed was beseeched to overlook the proper use of water and land so that the villagers and wildlife would both live in peace.

Despite the large undertaking Kreed had ahead of him, he was in good spirits. He was fishing, meditating, in the wilds, and had a pipe in his mouth. The water spirits must have been smiling upon him. Even as the sunlight was no longer visible the old monk decided to loudly break out into a song that was written by a fellow monk he knew.

The fall pond cheerless, the water clear
I fish from a small boat drifting here.
Tiny blue ripples roll through the mist
The wind, the leaves fly past with the year
From a deep blue sky hang rows of clouds
On a bamboo path, no one appears
Knees to chest, I can’t put down this pole,
Many  fish tug at the duckweed here.


As Kreed finished the song he felt the tell-tale pull of the line in the water. Any normal fisherman would have been excited and rushed to pull their catch in…but Kreed was no ordinary fisherman. Something felt wrong about the tugging of the line and he cautiously stared at the point in the water where the line disappeared into the murky depths. He began to reel in the line slowly and felt the pressure increase. He tugged harder and felt a little give as something was pulled closer to his shore. The monk reeled more quickly now, trying to not let whatever was on the line sink back into the mud. He reeled and reeled until there was a sudden POP, a SPLASH, and the heavy THUMP as the upper half of a human body was pulled to shore.

The monk reeled back in surprise as he stared in horror at the corpse. It was missing an arm, right to be exact, along with both of its lower limbs. The smell that arose with the corpse was atrocious. Kreed inhaled more smoke from his pipe just to get the smell of rot and decay clear from his nose. The monk felt his harmony slip away and began to feel fear claw its way deep into his chest. It wasnt the smell that tugged at his terror, or the fact that a corpse was before him that pulled at his phobias, there was something else about the body that made The Lone Fisherman begin to pack up his belongings and flee to a safer area.

The body was fresh.

Valnar sat up in his muddy, impromptu chair. Someone was singing, and loudly! The drow immediately knew that it was no villager as they were too terrified to even come to the swamp to drain it, it must have been a traveler. A traveler that was in danger of attracting the attention of whatever terrifying beast had been terrorizing the villagers for months. Valnar threw of his cloak and madly scrambled through the much and grime trying to pinpoint the origin of the singing. As quickly as it had started it stopped.

Valnar stood still a moment listening vainly for the sound of a mount plodding through the swamp or some other sound that would give away the location of the being that had been singing. A few minutes passed and finally the breathless drow could make out the sounds of hasty movement just over a rise in the swampland to his right. Quickly as he could Valnar made his way for the rise and the sounds that he assumed were the traveler. Several times he had to unwind lengths of reed and other forms of fibrous plants from Thunder's scabbard.

Finally Valnar made the top of the rise and witnessed one of the strangest things he had seen. An older man was quickly fleeing where, Valnar assumed, he had just been fishing. For what reason Valnar wasn't sure, all he knew was that he needed to keep the man from singing again. Valnar never noticed the body, camouflaged as it was in swamp it appeared as another dry area that the drow had become accustomed to seeing.

"Sir! You must be quiet! Don't you know there have been horrible and violent animal attacks in this swamp?" Valnar called as fervently and as quietly as he could. The swamp had grown unnaturally quiet from the man's singing and Valnar's dash through the swamp to silence it. The moonlight and swamp fog created just the right amount of surreal ambiance that Valnar felt he had entered another world, one that was intent on the destruction of his body and soul. The drow felt icy cold fear spread through his chest, like he had stepped into a cold ocean tide, the swamp seemed to hold eyes in nearly every direction and Valnar felt very exposed.

Quietly slipping down the rest of the rise Valnar drew closer to the man, "Please sir, we must get away from here. We aren't safe and we've drawn the attention of several leagues worth of dangerous animals."

Kreed stood as still as a frozen lake as the dark-skinned drow stood before him.

"Please sir, we must get away from here. We aren't safe and we've drawn the attention of several leagues worth of dangerous animals." Whispered the dark elf with the warmth and joy of a grave. Just him speaking these words brought more darkness into the old monk's soul.

The drow was about a head taller than Kreed. He was garbed in dark leathers and traveling clothes. Something odd about him was that he had piercing blue eyes that practically glowed in the dark night. They were similar to the sapphire glow that lit up the sky as a dark storm crept over the distant horizon. He was a strong and graceful elf who obviously knew how to handle himself in the wilderness. In fact he was probably more attune with the wild woodlands than living among others of his kind. Kreed felt a little relieved at this fact. What could be better than a elf of the dark forest teaming up with a monk of the bright waters? Especially in a swamp which is literally a combination of water and woodland.

Kreed bowed with his palms in the 'Humble Starfish Bows to the Tide' position.

"I apologize greatly for my carelessness, drow. Even the sharks are hunted, yes? I am looking for a nearby village who needs the help of a monk such as myself. The spirits here seem restless and imblanced, yes? Tell me what is your-"

Just as Kreed was finishing his sentence he sensed the dark, oily, hate-filled intentions of a creature nearby. The intentions of something evil. Just as he sensed it he began to feel the presence come crashing towards them. Kreed lept backwards and withdrew his combat fishing pole and placed it into 'Patient Eel Awaits in Cave' position. The monk normally wasn't this aggresive, yet as he continued to sense the oily evil come slinking towards them ever closer, he knew that they had a fight on their hands.

The old man bowed and began apologizing, which Valnar hadn't expected and couldn't believe, he then began saying something about the spirits and Valnar was lost, the drow just stared. In the middle of apologizing the old man went suddenly quiet which immediately put Valnar on edge a split second before there came a loud crashing through the swamp.  Valnar spun toward the sound and drew Thunder from it's sheath in nearly the same instant, his eyes scanning the dark and malicious swamp. While the two had been talking a light rain had begun to fall, combined with the humidity of the swamp there was a thick fog beginning to form. The night was shaping up to more interesting and infinitely more fatal than Valnar had hoped.

The crashing continued for several more minutes and then everything went silent again, Valnar could have dropped a pin and heard it land in the soft, clutching muck at his feet in this silence. Quite suddenly a gurgling howl split the air, the sound a wolf may make trying to call to it's brothers while drowning. The icy fear that Valnar had felt earlier returned with even greater effect, his whole body recoiling from the connection his brain just made with the sound they had just heard and the creature that made it. A bog wolf. If any creature was capable of killing the draining teams this was it, a bog wolf lived on raw hatred for anything other than itself and never devoured a single victim. It was simply too rare for Valnar to consider seriously, a mistake that may prove to be the death of himself and the old man.

Valnar firmly held Thunder in his sweating left hand and reached through the thickening fog and grabbed the old man by his elbow and whispered, "Listen, we are in very grave danger, that sound you heard is a bog wolf. One of the most malicious creatures out here, we will not leave the swamp without having to face it much less live through that encounter. It's made a kill elsewhere but there's no chance it will stop to feed, it's too full of rage to stop killing." Valnar wasn't sure that the old timer could make it, he looked considerably aged but he had made it this far and his arm felt as hard as old steel. It gave Valnar little hope. The drow glanced towards the man and fearfully realized that the fog had grown so thick as to obscure everything a few inches away, he was gripping a bodiless arm. Valnar fought hard to suppress the rising panic that was threatening to paralyze his mind and freeze his body, he was losing.

"Do you–do you have an extra fishing line? We're going to tie ourselves together to keep from getting separated." Valnar said, shakily sticking Thunder in the mud point first in case he had to call on it quickly. The swamp was still deathly quiet, after the howl they had heard there had been no other sound which meant the bog wolf was hunting. The drow was certain they were it's intended prey. The rain and fog  would only hinder the drow and man, a bog wolf was built for hunting in such conditions. Valnar muttered a small prayer to Moliira to protect them.

As Kreed stood in his fighting stance at the ready he could hear the panic begin to rise in the drow.

"Do you–do you have an extra fishing line? We're going to tie ourselves together to keep from getting separated." He said while preparing for a battle himself. This disturbed the monk greatly. If this warrior of the woods is so frightened of that howl that sounded as if the gates of hell were moaning open, then maybe they were severly outmatched in the matter. Kreed was struggling to meditate as the seconds ticked away so slowly. Each breath they made sounded like it was as loud as bellows and was giving away their location to the creature.

With fluid motion Kreed reeled out the silk fishing line from his pole. He made it long enough to wrap around each of them three times over.

Three for luck, Kreed thought as he worked quickly, we're going to need it.

He cut the fishing line and handed one end to the dark elf. The Lone Fisherman knew he could keep up with the drow, there was no concern there. But with them tied together, trying to sneak through a midnight swamp, with a hunter on their tail, he wasn't certain how they would be able to make it through completely unscathed. Tying his strong, weighted, combat hook to the end of Fathom (the name of his fishing pole which was as trusty for fishing as in combat) he began to run options through his mind which was desperatly trying to stay in a calm, meditative state.

He decided on one way that he could be of best help and turned to one of the larger pools near him. The water was not the best quality, it was filled with debris and muck, but it would work regardless. The monk pulled out his prayer beads and beseeched water spirits for their blessing and aid. He extended his palm in the "Silent Rising Wave" postion and called upon the waters to protect them.

At this motion, the water did not bubble and churn with violent magic. Rather, it appeared as if the water elemental had been waiting under the surface the whole time and merely was just coming out of the bath. It quietly spilled up out of the surface and onto the soft earth where the monk and the drow stood waiting. Kreed bowed deeple with "Crab is Grateful for the Shell" to the elemental. He spoke quietly to both the drow and the water spirit.

"There is an evil that is hunting us, spirit. My friend and I need to return another day to vanquish it and cleanse this land. We would appreciate the assistance if you could distract it for a moment, hm? In return we promise we will wipe its evil from your waters."

The spirit nodded slowly, and with the sound of its moving, aquatic limbs, it glided away down the path in some direction where the evil lay hidden.

The monk turned once again to the elf and spoke quietly and with intent.

"That will buy us some time, drow. How good are our chances of escaping this 'bog wolf' so that we can return and kill it, hm?" The monk spoke now with a righteous anger, and his eyes were filled with the violence of the churning sea, "I now see that in order for me to cleanse this land and defend the weak that this wolf must be stopped."