Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
She was fortunate to survive the encounter.
Her offspring have become very adept at hunting, trapping and taming a wide array of nastyjellies and they are specialists at handling bloatslimes. It has become their family business.
The Red Marshes get their name from the deep red color of the ultra-humid skies, the red-tinted clouds, the predominently red chlorophyll of the plants, and so on. The air is so humid that the glare from the sun makes it impossible for most people to discern where the water ends, the land begins and the sky seems to just swallow everything. It's a misleading and disorienting place to those not used to it and even then it can be treacherous. The Siluroi and Lutrin, Venduu and various turtle-descended species have established raft-camps, pontoon-towns and a few unregistered enclaves past the Tributary Gate. The Siluroi might take you out to one of the known locations, if you can name it or give good directions, but they aren't likely to volunteer information to outsiders, and especially not for free.
You'll want a good Guide out in the Red Marshes; the nastyjellies aren't the only things that might try to get at you--there are some fairly wicked leeches, razorflukes and freshwater urchins to consider. Some riverfolk have taken to saying that there are gavials, slasher-fish, hooksquids, devilfish (oversized freshwater pirahnas) and bad garfish out in the Red Marshes as well. Things that might eat a person whole as soon as spit them out. Then there is the matter of spawning pools. No one wants to trespass on a Venduu spawning pool. You might not be afeared of fish, invertebrates or poisonous crustaceans, but you sure as anything won't want to go mucking aroud in a Venduu's spawning pool. You'd be wishing you'd ran into a big ol Gatorbear, a whole pack of hungry gatorbears, if'n you blundered into a spawning pool.
Nope, if you're going to visit the Red Marshes, you'll be wanting a Guide and your boots are the last thing you'll need to worry about. And don't forget your copy of the River Almanac. There's a recipe in there for sucker-spine crawdads that is simply out of this world. Them's good eatin' y'know. Or at least you would if'n you read the Almanac.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
River Zonges laps against the lily-pad raft, gently rocking it like a cradle. Maybe you shouldn't have had that third shroom-beer, but it was oh so good. Night descends and so do you, into a deep, relaxing sleep. What dreams might come to you in a place like this?