The Swamp

With a powerful roar Dimzad the Mighty crashed through the door. The giant dwarf stepped into the cabin. He was met by a chorus of screeching, and the strong the odor of rotting carcass. Tilting back his mail coif he surveyed the room before him.

The inside of the windowless cabin was one large room filled with all manner of the strange. Dozens of deceased creatures were strung up from the ceiling in various stages of decay. Many sported missing chunks of flesh and bite marks across their bodies. Several more living creatures were scattered about the room in ramshackle cages, begging to be set free. A shoddy wooden table and two chairs, as well as a cot stuffed with bird feathers, were the only pieces of furniture in the cabin. Upon the table sat a freshly filleted fish. A rusty knife and a carving block lay next to it. Leaning in one of the corners was a fishing pole, a couple of spears, and a rotting scrap of net. Across the walls of the cabin there were makeshift shelves littered with heirlooms and oddities of the surrounding swamp. Stones, bones, teeth, wooden carvings, plants, mushrooms, and vials of foul liquids were amongst the assortment. The layer of filth on the floor acted as carpeting, as well as a home for the rats and insects that infested the abode.

"Dimzad, is anyone home?" asked a charming voice, in perfectly spoken Reikspiel.

The dwarf simply replied with a grunt. A response he usually chose to use.

Gottfried Gustav stepped into the cabin behind Dimzad. The man was of medium build, with a large nose, a mole on his cheek, and pox marks covering his face. Despite these distinguishing marks, he had sharp features and a presence about him that seemed fitting for one of noble birth. Across his perfectly polished breastplate hung a steel symbol of a twin tailed comet; the holy symbol of Sigmar, God and protector of the Empire. A resplendent cloak was draped across his back, and in his hands he held an expertly crafted sword and shield.

Gottfried and Dimzad began patrolling the room for any signs or clues as to who its inhabitants were.

"Do not touch anything," said Gottfried, "Whoever lives here would not appreciate us looting their belongings. Besides, whoever it is seems to have quite an affinity with this swamp. Perhaps they would be kind enough to help us find what we came here for."

"Troll blood!" shouted Dimzad, irritating the caged creatures surrounding them.

After a few more minutes Gottfried could not resist the urge to vomit any longer, and stepped out of the cabin. A few paces away on a pile of firewood sat an odd looking elf, intently focused on the large book in his hands.

The elf wore a dark red robe with black trimming. He held barely any possessions, save the book in his hands, a sack strung to his back, and various pouches hanging from his belt. His slender features were befitting of an elf from the Laurelorn forest. His long brown hair was streaked with strands of fiery red, and his face was covered in jet black tattoos that seemed to swirl towards its center.

"Avandril, no one seems to be inside," exclaimed Gottfried.

Avandril Dol'wen made no response and continued to study his book. Gottfried knew the mysterious elf had heard him, but Avandril did not seem to care. For expanding his knowledge of the wind of fire, and continuing to test the limits of his power were all that the wizard lived for.

Dimzad emerged from the cabin gnawing on the flank of the fish from the table. He drew a flask from his belt and washed down his meal with the last of his Dwarven Spirits. Angered by the thought of enjoying no more alcohol on his journey, he hurled the container into the marshland.

"There is no troll here!" Dimzad yelled, "Let us continue into this swamp!"

"What are you yelling about you oaf?" came a voice from the undergrowth. A muscular man covered from head to toe in weaponry stepped out of the tree line. "There is a large raft on the shoreline of that stream. I also saw tracks in the mud. Whatever lives here appears to be human, and I don't think he will be too happy that you killed his dog, dwarf."

"The beast attacked me first!" shouted Dimzad, as he pointed at the dead canine. "Just be glad I did not drive my weapon into the neck of that cursed elf!"

The dwarf despised the elven race, and despised magic users even more. For these reasons he carried a deep hatred for Avandril. That would never change.

"I say we wait for the one who calls this cabin home," said Gottfried. "This swamp is enormous. There is no telling where we could find a troll, or even if one lurks here. All we have is the word of a farmer, who most likely saw this monster in the bottom of his ale mug. Speaking to someone who is familiar with this area would be most helpful. What do you propose Felix?"

"I propose we continue onward," replied the man who had just emerged from the undergrowth. "I am not being paid for this journey by the hour. The raft is big enough to hold the four of us, and travelling over water would be considerably faster then trudging through these marshes."

Upon hearing that, Dimzad began to march towards the stream with a determined look upon his battle scarred face.

"Very well," said Gottfried, "Sigmar would not approve of his children taking what is not theirs. However, I'm sure he wouldn't mind us borrowing the raft to root out and destroy the evil which plagues our mighty empire."

Rolf slowly lifted his head out of the water. He watched as the four adventurers climbed on to his raft. He fingered the shaft of his longbow as he greedily eyed their belongings. "That's it, continue into the swamp," he whispered to himself. A hungry grin crept across his scaly face, for he knew where the stream would lead them.