Buried in Backwater

Day 41 cont.

Soon after leaving the carcasses of the caymans Ahkiell beckoned the party to quite as he detected the presence of something ahead and to the right of us. Though none if us could see it he said he just felt that it was there. Even the sharpest of eyes among us could only pick out a vague blurred image resting in the trees. As it was the only non threatening thing we had encountered so far we let it alone and proceeded slogging through the morass of the swamp, only occasionally finding the barest patches of ground to slog over. The water leeching form our boots and clothing, turning the little bit of dry ground to a muddy mess for the 3rd and 4th people trying to traverse it.
It seemed an eternity of slogging through the swamps but was likely only an hour before a buzzing sound reached our ears from out of the mists of the swamp. As the rain intensified, so did the buzzing. Rising at the same speed our vision through the rain was diminished. Dimmed Sum and Dengal barely had time to shout a warning before they were impaled by a pair of giant mosquito like creatures. Each the size of a condor. Quick thinking by the bard had Dengal outlined in faerie fire which caused the giant insect to disengage from him and seek a target that was not covered in flickering red flames, very likely saving Dengal’s life as the insect had drawn a full pint of blood from Dengal in short order. Dimmed Sum simply beat the insect to within an inch of it’s life before it disengaged but Dimmed Sum was able to crush it like the bug it was, before it could zip off into the mist it came from. Willingly putting yourself in a monks reach is definitely the sign of insect intelligence.
Continuing on the adventurers finally came upon a small hillock rising out of the swamp, not much space to get comfy and the heroes were starting to feel the miasma of the swamp in their bones. Ache, rubbery, wet flesh demanding dryness and numbing in retaliation when it was not to be had was felt by each and every one of the weary heroes. Huddled together to try and stave off the rain under a small tarp the bard had the forethought to bring. A miserable nite made for a miserable morning with everything to wet to lite a fire to cook with, let alone dry out by.

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