The Murk (P-b-P Roleplay)

The swamp consumes lives, and creates life of its own

Within the dark mists of the swamp, an ancient evil has long lurked alone.  Lost in the swamp ages ago in life, he now serves as its protector throughout the eternity of death.  Haides, a simple traveling wizard had tried to explore the swamp in life is now forever bound to this place as one of the living dead.

Now his bones are bare of flesh, his soul has fled his body, and his will has been replaced with the unrelenting duty of being the guardian of this vile place.  The water is his blood, the trees his arms, and the filthy creatures are now his eyes.  Many travelers have been taken by the dark magics that this undead being now controls, but life is full of irony.  Despite any rumors about the living bones that reside within the dark fog, daredevils push the limits to see how far they can go, explorers cannot contain their curiousity, and the rotting bones of the fallen travelers carry treasures that lure scavengers like a moth to a wildfire.  All of them test his wrath, and with each dead fool another one is already on his way.

Now, Haides resides quietly within the solitude of his home, only to awaken when the next traveler disturbs his waters.

Not all who enter the swamp are lost to horriffic deaths. Some manage to eke out a living. One such person is the explorer known as Swamprat. The explorer is of unknown gender, near-constantly bundled up in mottled brown and green watertight clothing, with a headwrap and hood, its face obscured by an air-filter mask with tinted goggles. Within the folds of Swamprat's robes are belts and pouches with a variety of goods; watertight tubes for holding maps and notes, vials of alchemical ingredients, rations, tools, and ammunition for the Mosin-Nagant bolt-action rifle slung across the explorer's shoulder.

Swamprat has managed to survive so far by creating burrows and dens throughout the swamp, forming a circle of hidden habitations throughout the area is it continues to map the land on in inward spiral. These places are safe havens formed by digging out hollows amidst the large roots of old trees. Within, the explorer keeps makeshift benches full of plant and water samples, vials of natural gasses harvested from where they bubble up out of the depths, and charts and maps detailing what has been discovered so far. Good fortune it is for whoever stumbles upon such a place, especially if the hollow has been recently visited on Swamprat's circuit, for the most recently visited ones tend to have the most up-to-date charts and fresher emergency rations.

Submerged within the thick waters, the skeletal body of Haides lies dormant.  Visions of the swamp flash through his mind as he slumbers, different views of the swamp with different eyes.

FLASH The searching gaze of a vulture is gliding over the north end of the swamp, seeking out any stray corpses that are exposed enough to feast upon.  FLASH The sights of a lizard climbing upon the damp branches of an ancient tree, there is a bug nearby that looks awfully tasty, but nothing else of interest there.  FLASH A small fish races through the water, startled by every ripple in the swamp.  FLASH A swarm of wasps patrol the area around their hive, ever watchful for intruders.  FLASH A snake sees a frog nearby.  FLASH The frog sees a group of flies eating a rotten mouse, his gaze is facing away from his slithering doom.  FLASH A worm upon the corpse of a recently dead explorer.  FLASH An alligator calmly swims through the water, his maw aching to crush the bones of his prey.  FLASH

It's only a matter of time before one of the creatures of the swamp spots an intruder.  Haides stirs in his sleep...

A new explorer enters the swamp.  Clad in black pants, black shirt, a brown trencher and brown 10-gallon hat, he cautiously steps into the swamp.  His rifle in his hand, all eight rounds loaded and ready to go.  He has rations enough for six days, 5 full reloads, and some minor medical suplies such as bandages and some vials of liquid he bought in town to help stop toxins.  He's looking for treasure and adventure, his name is Victor.

The river was burning. Flames lept high off of the inky black water, sweltering heat washing over the banks. People screamed, running for the bridge even as it warped and melted. Hands blotted out the scene and pulled, dragging the screaming child headlong away from the scene. Into the woods they ran, following an invisible road through the night. The world came crashing down as something caught up the runner's foot-

Swamprat was startled into wakefulness by its own sharp nod. Sleeping in a crouching position had all sorts of natural alarm clocks; falling over, nodding too hard, feeling the earth and roots behind you shaking as something large clambered over the tree under which you were hiding...

The explorer shook its head, trying to clear away the dream-fog. A hand reached out to a makeshift table of scraps of dry wood and pieces of old boats, snatching up a hardtack biscuit. The explorer's other hand worked at pulling its gas mask aside so that the food could be popped in. As soon as the meager breakfast was inside, the mask was hastily worked  back into place. In one smooth motion, Swamprat lifted up to its full height and slung its rifle over its shoulder, then headed for the veil of young roots that disguised the entrance to this hollow. It was time for a day of work.

New flesh disturbs the waters.  But where do they lurk?  The fog hides their movements.

The creatures of the swamp sense the presence of unwanted guests within their land, intruders cause ripples in the surface of the swamp.  The water around Haides boils for a moment as his eyes burn like a forge, a search must commence!  If there are intruders here, they will be discovered soon enough.

The water calms and his eyes become dead an empty once again, but the command has been given to his favorite hunters.

Find the intruders.

Mere seconds after the command is given, a thousand wasps abandon their hives and form into a cloud that begins to fly through the swamp.  The hum of the swarm grows to a low roar as they rush through the swamp searching for their master's prey.

As Vincent is walking around the swamp, he spots a fresh corpse of an alliegator, he desides to not waste the rations and start a fire to cook the meat not knowing when the next time something edible will be found and he'll actually need the rations.  He starts the fire with eaze using some branches from one of the dead trees and lighting it be striking a rock against the metal of his gun to create sparks. 

As he cuts up the alligator, he finds a hand in its stomach, half digested.  There's a tarnished bronze ring on the ring finger, "probably a weding ring" he says aloud.  He cleans it off in the water of the swamp and puts it on.

The alligator is not particularly tasty, but it gets the job done.  He's no longer hungry, but continues to cook because he figures he could eat it later.  As he cooks, he starts to sing a song

The river is-

Burning. The light of the fire glinted off of the water, catching the attention of curious eyes. Swamprat clambered across roots old as the swamp, trained limbs finding holds for the descent. The explorer ran atop one sturdy root, leaping from it to a dry one across the water, then scuttled down to where the roots had lifted some solid ground above the water level. From there, it was simple enough to jump from one such area to the next, clambering up roots again when a higher jump was needed. The explorer moved quietly, though by no means noiselessly, but with the ease of one of the swamp's natives. This place was home.

crack. That was the noise Vincent heard in the distance.  After that there was just the usual buzz of the swamp that he had been listening to.  He kept his gun closer, but he kept humming and cooking.

Eyes see everywhere, all possible directions, thousands of minions circling above the south end of the swamp.  Thousands of eyes, thousands of eyes that are blind.

A heavy mist had started to move into the swamp, something that was of no concern to Haides until just now.  Usually he liked the fog that would confuse travelers and conceal his beasts, but this mist was so thick that his minions couldn't even see the waters from their position above the trees.  Frustrated he sent his command for the swarm to fly close to the water's surface and hunt close to the ground.  It was a slower method of hunting, but under these conditions it was better than simply staring at mist from the sky.

While the swarm began hunting again, Haides started to remember his days of life.  There had been a rumor of a moss that grew only in this swamp, a moss that had incredible healing capabilities when applied to a wound.  It took some time of searching, but he did find a tree that had that moss growing on its bark.  Had he known more about some of the strange trees in the region he probably would still be alive now. 

Bark black as coal, branches and leaves that made it look like a willow tree, except for the fact that its leaves are a dark red.  He had found the moss, and he was too excited to worry about caution.  He had run towards the tree and begun taking samples of the moss immediately.  It wasn't until he had sealed the first container that the root grabbed hold of him.  The root was hard as iron, and it latched onto him like a shackle as it dragged him under the shallow waters.  To this day, he doesn't know why he thought about it, but when he had felt his last breath approaching, Haides opened the container filled with moss and consumed it without a second thought.  After a few seconds he passed out, or at least he thought he passed out.  When he awoke he discovered himself to still be under the water, but he no longer hungered for breath.  The root had released him, his heart no longer beat within his chest so the tree assumed that it had killed its attacker.  As he stood up he felt nothing, the feel of water did not exist, he wasn't cold, he wasn't hungry, and his leg did not hurt where the root had grabbed him.  As he looked down he had saw his reflection, it looked as if he had been dead for several days!  His skin was bloated and rotting and clearly the animals of the swamp had not left him alone during his slumber.  But it was strange, he felt stronger.  Not physically, but the flow of magic seemed to connect with him more easily, as if his flesh had once acted as a barrier that stopped most of the magic he called upon.

That was many years ago, and the flesh is completely gone now.  Magic reaches him with no barriers, but he does not leave the swamp.  Here he is alone, here he can hone his magical skill with little interruption.  Here he will not be hunted as a monster.  The swamp gave him life, a home, and power.  There is nothing he will allow into his sanctuary.

Removing himself from his memories, he focuses once again upon the swarm.  The vibrations of a thousand tiny wings sends ripples across the surface of the swamp, the sound of the swarm almost seems like music.  The mist clouds the presence of the intruders, but that protection will not last forever.

none with the cooking, Vincent packed up his goods and got underway.  The fog had settled in so he took a branch for a torch in hopes to cut the fog.

As Vincent walked, he thought about his home, or what used to be his home.  Now it was just a graveyard of memories, memories of his family.  He shed a tear before catching his emotions.  He was glad there was no one around to see him show emotion, no one had seen him show emotion since the incident and that's how he wanted it to stay

As he walked, Vincent thought he could hear a faint buzzing....

     It was a strange life for Jessie Roberts.  He woke up at 4 AM every day and worked until 4 PM every day.  His only solace was his new bass boat which he had come to call, "Los Bass Grande"  or just the boat, or at one point, Mrs. Jessie Roberts.

     One day, after working really hard mining for precious metals at his Aunt Matilda's diamond factory he went fishing really hard.  But didn't catch a thing so he cursed the Gods which was a mistake as it turned out.  Surprise! said the whirlpool as it sucked Jessie and his chromed bride into some sort of dimensional water portal to some other swampy place full of water also but much warmer and dirtier water at that.  Ha ha, thought Jessie, laughing to himself.  Now that I'm in my own swamp I won't have to mine diamonds no more.  Ever again.  He reached into his ice chest and pulled out a Silver Bullet Beer and started crying because even though he was now free of the curse that is being a skilled Diamond factory worker he would not be able to rely on that same skill as a Diamond factory worker to give his life meaning anymore.

     He started his bass boat and made his way along one of the larger waterways.  Crying into his beer and wondering how big the fish were in this strange new land.  The fog made it really hard to see so Jessie decided to let the boat steer itself, which was a mistake because presently he drove his boat into a big root from one of the big trees.  Luckily Jessie made it back into his boat but his ice chest was missing, which meant his Silver Bullet Beer was missing to.  Seeing a hole at the base of the closest tree Jessie, with images of tasty beer and that ice chest his dad, Mr. Roberts had gotten him right before he got crushed by a dump truck, lept into that hole and started to swim, hoping that his ice chest and the beer within it were not abandoning him like so many others had abandoned him because he was a mean drunk and never really felt emotions like other people.  Keep swimming Jessie!

Vincent heard a loud crash somewhere very close to him, he stopped fo a couple minutes to register where it came from; the north, he was traveling north-west so he continued to walk holding the torch a bit lower so he wouldn't stick out as much in the fog.  As he walked, he noticed a couple of wasps fly into the torch and  get burned to a crisp...

Swamprat felt the collision more than heard it. The unsteered boat had made very little noise as it slid through the water, its owner preoccupied. The boat slammed into the root as the explorer was climbing up it from a lower position. The surprised climber fell, landing on a raised patch of grassy dirt below. The wind knocked out of its lungs, Swamprat tore its gas mask upwards, gasping for breath. Exposed, vulnerable, helpless.

Jessie swam into the murky tunnel, grasping at exposed roots to pull himself along.  Just when he thought his lungs would explode he emerged into a small hollow among the roots with an air pocket just large enough for his head to remain above water.  It reminded him of that one time when he and his friend Lonny Estrada had tried to go swimming in an old pool out behind that creepy old mans house in town.  Mr. Decoteau was that creepy old mans name.  But the pool was so full of algae and other assorted nasty stuff that it was like swimming in a pool full of green slime that secretly hungered for you life energies.  OH MY GOD! thought Jessie, thats whats happening now I bet!!?  The water around him got colder the longer he stayed in the hollow and slowly he could feel his legs going numb as some force in the water drained the warmth and life from his body.  Jessie, no longer oblivious to the final truth of life and death that hangs over everyone's head like some sword or large rock with spikes in it, decided not to go out like a chump.  Calling to mind the pivotal moment in his life where he was watching Lone Wolf McQuade and it was that scene where Lone Wolf is buried alive by David Carradine because that guy is pretty evil sometimes.  But no!  McQuade is not going to give up!  Ever!  It is the same with Jessie now. 

Suddenly he could feel the familiar heft of a beer can in his hand.  Silver Bullet you came back to me in my time of need! he cried out into the small space of the hollow as the swamp slowly sucked out his soul and all that made him Jessie and not a Rex, or a Steve, or more opposite to his nature a Pierre.  Pouring the beer mostly into his mouth he felt energized by some otherwordly force, somehow directly countering that life sucking force the swamp had going on.  Groping he found the remainder of his 12 pack but no ice chest, the same very ice chest which was his last tenuous link to his family and home.  Oh well, though Jessie as he started back out the tunnel to the swamp, at least I still have my soul.

Egads he thought, using a phrase that he had never really thought or even said before.  For his boat was now covered in wasps, huge wasps even, attracted to the various scents released when the boat crashed into that big root.  Staying half submerged in the water, Jessie watched as the wasps ravaged his chrome goddess with their stingers.  First the seats then the GPS unit, then finally the hull itself was punctured and the boat was going down into the mud filled depths.  It was a first rate wasp ravaging, and if it was not Jessie's boat getting ravaged he might have reveled in the sheer unadulterated destruction.  But it was his boat so his gut was filled with a cold fist, clenching and unclenching his insides, silently weeping as his only real friend in the world was torn apart by wasps and their cruel stingers of fate.   

I've found them, I've found them, I've found them, NOW GET THEM!!!

His mental command screamed at the swarm, the force of the order caused a gust of wind to radiate out from his position under the surface.  Branches on trees rattled like bones, creatures scattered to hiding places, and the fog was pushed back.

A boat had been discovered, it's destruction was nearly complete, but the owner was not inside.  There... there further down the waters was a torch, it had killed some of the smaller members of the swarm as they had approached.

Leave the boat and pursue the one with the fire!

The swarm gathered once again and began to fly straight towards the torch light...

The wasps flew out of the fog at Vincent like a cloud of bullets.  Vincent tried to fight off the swarm with his torch, burning them left and right, but it seemed that for every one he killed, two more moved to fill the gap.  Vincent began to run, hoping to out run them, all the while fighting them off with the torch. 

The stings on his legs hurt like hell, but he kept running.  The swarm was beginning to thin, but it didn't matter, he needed to find a way out of this.

It happend in a matter of seconds, but it felt like minutes.  A root, jutting out of the muck caught Vincent's foot and he fell, face first, onto the slick ground and slid forward into a hole.

As he tumbled into thee hole, all he could think about was how much the fall hurt.  When he landed at the bottom of what seemed like a shelter, he was able to asses his wounds.  He twisted his ankle and smashed his arm.  He had a splitting headache and his vision was a little blurry. 

As it cleared up he noticed that the light was not his torch that he must have dropped ouside, but it was lanterns all over the cave.  It looked like someone had just been here, but there wasn't much in the cave.  He decided to sit down and work on healing up hoping he lost the wasps.

The prey had disappeared within the roots and dark waters of the swamp, perhaps he hoped to hide there until the swarm left.  Giving the order to stay as sentries, the wasps landed on the nearby tree and held still to blend into the bark as much as possible.  No more buzzing echoed in the swamp as they all waited in ambush for their prey to resurface from below...

Vincent looked around the cave to see if there was anything useful, but it had been getting late and there was a bed on one side of the cave.  He had learned to be a light sleeper and decided to lay down and get some rest.

As Vincent lay there, he mentally yelled at himself.  How could he even think that he could hunt any kind of treasure if mere Wasps gave him trouble.  "What would Elanna say?" he asked aloud

A new comer to the swamp arrived with a load bang. with a gust of ionzed air a silver man appered 30 ft above the swamp, crashed into the surface and sank beneath the muck

--Diagnostics active...user dead...main power offline, reserve at 33%...liquid pressure detected...beginning emergency medical treatment

--user stabilized...running scans...awaiting commands

When Vincent awoke, he sat up feeling refreshed.  He had dreamed about his last moments with his son before the accedent; it was a good dream.  As he sat up, he saw a combat knife sitting on a shelf, he took it and strapped it to his boothe ate a little more of the cooked meat in his bag and left the hole.

It was very dark but he could see a few of the wasps on the two trees near the hole.  It looked as if they did not see him so he crept away silently.

Vincent had been walking for atleast 10 minutes when his thoughts began to shift back to his lost family.  He could only hope they were watching him now.

(OOC: Incase there's any confussion, after I orriginally named him Victor, I wanted to change it to Vincent, but I couldn't edit it so I just made the change without saying anything.  So yeah, the description of Victor is actually the description of Vincent.)

Swamprat stopped struggling and let the world fade away. If an alligator stumbled across the sleeping explorer, then so be it. Many smaller creatures had died at the explorer's hand; it would only be fair to end up with a similar fate.

Swamp awoke to an unpleasant feeling of pressure, eyes flittering open just in time to stop the combat knife held alongside the jaw of a small deer-like creature. The explorer lowered the knife, returning it to its sheath before standing. By the time that the explorer had been brushed off, the curious cervine was long gone. Taking a quick check of the surrounding area, Swamp clambered up a nearby tree, looking for some of the tells left behind to mark shelters. Unfortunately, there were none in sight. It was too dark. Swamp needed a good landmark to re-orient with. With that in mind, the explorer set out, looking carefully at each passing tree and strange rock.

He ran as fast as he could.  Lost in his thoughts, Vincent had stumbled across the home of a scally swamp-man-thing and it was none too happy.  Vincent had tried to shoot it, but it seemed to have no effect.  That was five minutes ago and it didn't look like the creature was slowing down.  Vincent was getting tired and slightly angry.

"The ******* tapes said nothing about fishmen!" he yelled.

Vince juked left and the creature followed, but it gave him the angle he needed to make his move.  Vince jumped at the creature and tackled it to the ground.  At first he thought he had the upper hand, but the creature quickly took control.  He begain repaeatedly slamming Vincent's head into the muck.  Vince managed to throw an elbow up into the creature's face where it started spewing a sickly green blood.  Vincent was profusely bleeding from his forehead and it was getting into one of his eyes causing him to have to close it.  Vince got up just in time to get punched in the gut by the creature, followed by an uppercut to the jaw, and a spin kick in the back to put him on the ground again.  As he landed, he hit his head hard on a log and knocked himself out cold......

When he came too, Vince was in the back of a cave.  His equipment was on a shelf near a fire where the creature sat with two others.  The bleeding had stopped, but had not been patched up.  As Vince looked closer, he noticed the creatures were arguing over a piece of meat.  He looked to see what he was laying on; it was bones, some with skin still on it.  This rattled him a little, but he looked at a fresher corpse closer, it had bite marks.  They were going to eat him!

Thinking quick, Vincent grabbed two broken bones and begain to sneek up on the creatures who were now fist-fighting over the cooked meat.  Two of them had their backs to him as he crept.  When he got close enough, he jabbed the two bones into the back of their necks; one in each.  He pulled them back out to cause the creatures to die faster, mercy, he thought.  The third looked at him.  It was the one he fought before.

"Round two meathead."  and with those words, Vince charged the thing with bones in hand.  It parried the first but fell victim to the second.  It ripped it out of its torso and cast it aside, but in doing so, it left itself open for Vincent to tackle it to the ground, get it in a headlock, and snap its neck.

Vincent fell backwards in exhaustion.  It looked as if it was only those three in the cave and nothing would really disturb him here.    

"I hope they were watching that one." he said.  He went over to the shelf, broke open his pack, and begain tending to his wounds....

The river is on-

Firelight danced deep in the cave, attracting Swampy's gaze. The dimly lit outline of the cave jogged the explorer's memory - this was an area that had been visited before. Mapped, too. Swamp had never been into the cave, however. Figured that it was probably the home of some big nasty or another. Fire, though. That probably meant one of two things: swamp gasses had lit and were burning within, or something had started a fire. Neither one was particularly promising; if it was gas, it could very well build up and explode. If it was a sentient being, it may very well want to eat the curious explorer. Still, Swamprat had dealt with both of those sorts of situations. Might as well head in, on the off chance that there would be something friendly within. Maybe a friendly something with a warm drink to share.

The explorer slinked forward, scampering across a thick, low-hanging branch and dropping to the ground with a soft 'whump.' Swamprat stood, unslinging its rifle into a ready position in the same fluid motion, then approached the lip of the cave.

Thud

"What the hell?" Vincent said as he heard a noise outside the cave.  All patched up Vince stood up and grabbed his rifle.  His coat was spread out on a rock drying off as was his shirt because he needed to bandage some cuts to his chest.  He hid behind a wall in the cave and got ready for what was comming next....

The alert explorer heard movement from within the cave. Crouching low, Swamprat rounded the corner, gun-first. The first thing that caught the explorer's eye was the fire that had obviously been built, rather than started by natural means. Excellent, excellent. The only thing now was to assure that its creator wasn't some nasty thing or another. After making a quick look around to make sure that nothing was creeping around outside the cave to sneak up with a big rock or club, the explorer descended towards the fire, ever-vigilant. Swamprat paused about half-way down, crouching beside a small outcropping of rock, and called out. The explorer's voice was made rough by the air filter, muffled enough to make it hard to pick up identifiable features. There was a bit of an accent to it, though. Some sort of Eastern European, maybe.

"Hello? Anybody down here? I'm not here to kill you unless you're here to kill me."

The voice was human, but muffled.  Vincent could see the source, it looked human enough, although the mask was unnerving.  He the remembered reading something about a man that lived in the swamp as an explorer, Vince hoped this was him.

"Put down the gun and put your hands in the air.  I don't want to have to waste the bullet, but if I have to, I will."

The prey has not resurfaced, not in living form or as a water soaked corpse.

Frustration boils around the bones that slumber beneath the waters, never has a hunt taken so long, never has the prey been so elusive.  Enough hunting with just the eyes and wings of wasps, obviously this prey deserves to be chased by the hunter himself and not just his hounds...

The waters around Haides glowed a venomous green and boiled furiously, bones creaked and vines that wrapped around his remains snapped.  Slowly he rose, first his skull broke the surface of the water and then he stood up above the surface of the waters for the first time in centuries.  He recalled the wasps to his location, once they arrived they would hover around him like the loyal hounds for any hunter.

Raising his gaze to the dark stormy sky, his eyes began to glow the same venomous emerald color that appeared in the waters earlier.  Opening his jaw more than would be possible for a being with flesh, Haides screeched to the swamp that was HIS domain!  The trees swayed, creatures fled and the winds howled, never has the swamp felt a fury like this before.

Swamprat hefted the Mosin Nagant rifle back into place, then stood up casually. The explorer was not afraid of the man and his gun. Well, that, or maybe Swamp was just a little bit crazy.

"You have no manners. Tell me why I shouldn't leave you to die and become another spot of muck at the bottom of the swamp."

"Oh I have manners," replied Vincent stepping out from behind his hidding spot. "I'm just being extra cautious, I almost died a minute ago"

Vincent lowered his weapon and walked towards the strange man.  Extending his hand he said. "Hello, my name is Vincent Aldridge, what's your name?"