Of Light, Life and Liches

[Faithdreamer]

You’re most grateful for the little things, sometimes. Marching through the forest was easy work. The Worgs already stripped it bare and killed anything they could eat. Everything else was probably dead because it may have eaten the Worgs. Your most difficult adversary was the rotten smells. If it wasn’t from the thick miasma of blood, there was the rot.

Before now, you’d probably never known what a truly large sheet of undead grass felt like. It looked perfect, pristine and green at first. With time the grass started to lose its vibrancy and fade into darker hues. And then you understood the grass never grew. And finally you realized, with no nourishment it was dead, cheating death, and some said, begging for its existence to end.

Trees that looked dry and ungainly, like the hanging tree near the road, the one surrounded by pinwheels, you’d see earlier on your journey. These ones grew the black flowers with white spots the Dryad mentioned in her book. It struck you that this part of the forest was much different, very much unlike the Worgs’ part of the woods. Through Matthias’s knowledge you knew you were getting close. You were nearly free of the woods. Out of curiosity or wonder, you stop to examine a tree that would have been striking once.

Shiwofwoa Flowers

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Shiwofwoa flowers are dark, splashed with white spots throughout. They pierce the dry, brittle tree trunk with ugly maroon vines that jagged spikes jut from. The trunk itself is hollow now, and you realize the flower vines have probably eaten it from the inside outward. Tumour-ridden white moss grows everywhere, though mostly along the edges of open spaces. If a human wound were infected, it might swell with puss, and the trees were imitating that.

With the ‘safety and security’ of a cordon of Worgs in the back of your mind, the group marches quietly through a clearing as it broadens, making the forest appear to open up.

You get the impression these trees were cultivated here in that way to make the lonesome bridge ahead more inviting. Without this vista, the bridge and the vicious looking rapids beneath would’ve been stark and foreboding.

“This is the only easy crossing on this river. We Worgs would have a tough time if something, say, made the bridge rot and fall in the river after we crossed it.”

You feel your way across the weathered wood, wary of weaknesses and things like brittle boards, the raging water beneath draws your attention. Not only does the water surge around, over, and through the perilous rock. Sometimes you even wonder if that’s a burble of unnatural goo you catch. After a few moments of careful observation, you can see the water is full with some kind of slime.

Radley is far more at home in civilization. He knows that this river is a vital part of Calamdan’s water supply. With something like that slime in the river, he has a good indication that whatever food is in the city, there is a good chance it has been poisoned.

After such a long march now may be a good time to pause and rest, if only for a few minutes.

Amos’s Tomb

There is no answer, as these are probably only questions that you might answer, being the only thing present in this room. Your vision becomes ‘accustomed’ to the darkness, to the act of not seeing anything. The only way you would know for yourself would be to explore your surroundings, feeling your way through the shadows blinding you.

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EDIT: It's on the way, I need a breather to get everything ready. If there is some sort of delay, that should be why.