Episode 1

Traveling through swamp in the dark is bad business. I think we should continue toward the trail head/cemetery, stopping an hour or two before we get there. This will give us a couple hours of daylight to set up an ideal camp location and hide the boats for the night. Also, I'm not a fan of camping in the Bats' cemetery/sacred ground. Not for supernatural reasons, just because they probably wouldn't like it in the off chance they discovered us there. I'd rather they didn't know we were coming, if that's possible (hell. they might have eyes on our group right now).

I think we'd be better off calling it an early night, getting up early morning while it's still dark, and arriving at the cemetery/trail head at sunrise. Plenty of daylight to make that half day trip to Driftwood.

Maybe, maybe not. Both could be a problem. Either way, I'm not keen on carting a ton of weapons into a situation I'm not sure about. Those weapons are something anyone can pick up and use against us. I think we see what the situation is, and then if it turns out to be one where we should bring weapons and such to the Bats, fine. Otherwise, we may be arming the people that attack the Murroughs (and Zaituc who is caught in the middle). If we find out for certain that they're on our side, that's a different story. Until then, I think the smart move is to bring us and our gear, and proceed from there. Our job is just to bring the girl back, and I don't think we'll need to arm the Bats to do that, especially since it could blow up in our face. I'm certain Zaituc wouldn't be fan of that move either.

In sum, there are just too many unknowns and variables to haul a cache of weapons to the Bat Hannocs.

After several more hours of paddling, the banks of the waterway begin to widen away from one another. Soon the travelers see that they are on the southwestern end of a moderate size lake. Off in the distance the other side can be seen. It may be an hour or less paddle to get there. Ruacht said that the cemetery is on the far side, on the south (and east) bank near the incoming waterway that is hidden on the north east corner.



The sun is just setting, but there is still plenty of light. The undergrowth of shrubbery has been steadily increasing along the way of the trip upstream. Now the foliage is thick. The banks of the waterway is rimmed by reeds, long stalk water grass, and a gradual transition from mud to hard ground. In the background, larger trees, mostly softwoods and mid sized trunks, make a thick woodline out further away from the bank.

As the team pulls the boats aground, it is impossible not to get dirty. This place is a mess. Some of the grasses have sharp edges to them and can cut the skin. The smell of the mud is unpleasant.

As the light continues to wane, the sounds of the bog increase. Frogs, crickets, flies and who knows what else begin to chirp in the night. As darkness begins to set in, the hum in the air becomes constant and considerably loud.

Finding firewood is possible, but much of the dead fall is water logged. If you decide to start a fire, expect it to be a smokey one, at least at first. It is tempting to do though. The temperature is dropping. No one is completely dry, so it is getting a bit uncomfortable as a chill sets in.

The night is not a comfortable one. The temperature drop in the hours after midnight is rather severe. A moisture hangs in the air. A chill sets in and lasts for what seems like a long night. When the darkness starts to give away to the gray of morning, it is a welcome site. Everyone is ready to get moving and see the sun.

Full light of the morning is delayed however. As seems to be the norm in this region, a thick fog has settled over the whole area. Instead of a morning sunrise, the area is covered in a gray glow of fog. Visibility is restricted to about 50 - 100 meters in most directions. The far side of the lake can no longer be seen as it was in the evening.

Dealing with the chill and the moisture in the air, the group reorganizes, checks supplies and puts the boats back out on the water once more. The sound of the paddles in the water seem louder in the quiet of the morning. The fog hangs out in blotches on the lake and in the trees on the banks. Black ducks and white egrets fly about, landing in the saw blade grass. A few alligators lurk near the banks of the lake, their eyes head and back breaking slightly above the surface of the water.

Instead of heading straight across the middle expanse of the lake, the team rows along closer to the south and east bank, looking for signs of an above-ground cemetery.

It is not long before the group spots what they were looking for. Near the edge of the bank, two trees stand tall with a platform built in between them, about 10 - 15 feet high. Rolls of cloth, burlap, and leather straps encase a lump of mass in the middle of the platform. It can only be the remains of a corpse. Looking further around the area, similar platforms hang on other nearby trees. The Bat Hannoc cemetery is found.



Before going aground, the group takes care to scan the area for any activity. None is detected. The place looks deserted. The group talks it over quietly and survey's the bank to identify a good place to cache the canoes. A small overgrown bank just beyond the cemetery seems to be the best option. They row into a small inlet, pull the boats onto ground, and take some time to camouflage the vessels in a patch of thick lilac. The covering is a success. The boats are completely unseen, about 175 meters north of the closest grave platform.

The group stops to listen for a while and get their bearings. The fog of the morning is burning away a little every hour. Now the sun is up and visible, but still low in the sky. The day is still early.

Carefully and fully alert, the group moves as quietly as possible back towards the cemetery, hoping to find a trailhead cutting southward into the dense forest.

As they come up to the grave platforms, they can see the eerie wraps of bodies suspended in the trees. Markings are etched out on many of the trees. Charms, baubles, talismans, and even bones hang down from the platforms and surrounding trees. Some of the trees have small cut out shelves in their trunks, in which sit all sorts of trinkets, statuettes, and even skulls. A few candles can be seen, but none are burning and most are melted down to nubs with strings of wax spilling over.

It is an eerie sight. Definitely not a type of burial ground anyone here is familiar with.

"Kray, this is facinating!" Qiu remarks after listening in earnest, leaning in towards Kray. "Let me tell you then of the Alijanians. You all may know us as just strikingly handsome men, beautiful women, master artisans, and shrewd merchants. And while that is true and we have always been such, we only came to these lands generations ago from the distant Mianshan mountains. The Mianshan people lived at the edge of the great Alijan Empire. Our remote mountain villages kept us safe for decades during the endless Tasuka-Jinzhou Wars. But eventually the Mianshani were pulled into the wars, and not even on the same sides. In the end, our mountain communities began to destroy one another, fighting under different banners of the Lowland Warlords."

He shrugs, leaning back. "War is war, the same as it is everywhere. People are brutalized, killed to make examples, and pressed into service to masters that seek only their own glory. But this one was different. For years people had said Emperor Zhu Shan was a sorcerer, summoning demons in his lust for greater power. The same hushed rumors were said of his half-brothers whom the war was fought against - Fan Bai of Tuopo and Gengxin. Most stories call Gengxin 'Jonshi', our word for vampire."

Qiu sits up and leans in and speaks in a more hushed tone. "But then the Lowland Warlords came. They were nobles, crazed with the lust for war. It is said that some would never remove their armor, for the horns and tusks of their masked helmets were truly growing from them, and had pierced the metal plates. Some were said to have eyes that glowed red. There are many stories of Lowland Warlords feasting on the dead after a battle."

He sits back again. "My people call this the Time of the Rivers of Blood. Eventually the Mianshani elders and champions gathered all those they could and fled, taking our river boats south to the open sea, costing us many lives. Fortunately for the Yuoric people, we eventually arrived in the Alorinic Sea."

"Your story is truly fascinating, Kray. It echoes much of what I have learned in the stories of my people. However, let us hope these really do just stay stories."

Thorn takes some extra time sifting through the miscellaneous articles that are nailed and hung from the grave trees and platforms.

It does not take long to find the trailhead. A decently worn path cuts into the forest to the south, diving into the thick woods.

Kray makes note of the markings of traffic along the trail. It does not seem like any of the tracks are fresh. This is an established track, but not one that has been used in most recent days at least.The group strikes out along the trail, traveling at a good pace southward for nearly an hour. The fog of the morning is burned away and the cold in the air is completely gone. It is hard to remember being cold now, because the humidity and heat is already setting in by late morning.

The trees are becoming thicker and taller. Gradually it seems that the group is walking under a canopy of branches. The trail cuts through thick patches of undergrowth. Often the trail is the only high ground, with draws and floods sitting in the low ground on either side.

The group begins passing through flooded spans of ground. At first, the water level is only ankle deep. Then a stretch has water up to the knees. Eventually there is no choice but to wade through water that is over each man's waist. Sandaled feet are stomping through murk, mud, and floating sludge. Snakes slither here and there along the surface. Again, some smaller alligators are spotted.





To everyone's relief, the trail eventually stabilizes on mostly solid ground again, though the flooded plains are still dispersed throughout the area, as are full bodies of water. The trees of the area now have large roots and thick smooth trunks, with high branches that block the sun and create a darkened setting of mold, algae, and hanging moss.

After several hours of hiking, thoroughly soaked and moderately chaffed from walking in wet leather and cloth, the group sees a clearing ahead. On the edge of a large swamp lake sits a collection of several wooden, thatch-roofed structures. They are still off in the distance, only visible in a glimpse through the trees. From this vantage point, it is not yet clear how large the settlement is or if there are any inhabitants. The group pauses for a moment and takes cover in nearby bushes to decide how to proceed.

About four or five hours have passed since the group stepped out from the cemetery. It has been a challenging slog through tough terrain. It is afternoon, likely the early hours of the afternoon, but the exact position of the sun is not clearly visible under the canopy of high branches and vine growth in the trees.