You set off for the furthest reaches of “civilization” on Giraine: the environs of New Arvonesse and Fort Mudlark in the Big Gunge swampland. Dawn greeted you with a break in the unseasonal cold snap, which turned your journey into a less frosty, more muggy one. You paid a visit to Embullian the Clean at Oyesteria Major and found that the community had recovered swiftly from the horrors of the asparagine fog, using their strange faith and meditations. He asked you to inquire further into the recovery of Enelaena, the widower you'd brought to the Bishop of Arvonesse for healing/cleansing, next time you were in St Thosos. Her once-mad rapist Guberejh had not recovered his mental faculties after Cyroosta's exorcism and was left in a bestial but harmless state. But your friendship with the people of OM was evident during your stay.
As you moved on northwest that afternoon, the lukewarm humidity of the day brought out the flies. And more flies. Biting, savage, plump black flies that sought your most tender regions with shocking gusto and cunning! And they kept coming, and swarming more and more, buzzing in your ears, eyes, nostrils, mouth, anywhere they could find warm moisture and easy blood! It was maddening, but you steeled yourselves. The Captain called upon his sorcerous Plastron to defend him and Ciddar, and Lord Boamund summoned his saint's protective fire-ring to surround you. But some still found their way to you, and soon you became harried enough to warrant switching your slog to a jog.
After some hours, the sky overhead of your fire-ring gradually had grown hazy at times with besieging flies, and then a most extraordinary and horrid thing happened. A thing came through the flames and grabbed the Baronet's sword arm. It was disgusting. A barely humanoid form composed of seething generations of flies and their worm offspring, every one of those millions ravenous for human flesh. Its endless mouths could seek their way through any protection and quickly gorge themselves on the sweet meat within. And so it began to eat its way through the shocked Baronet Shaven's arm, as you hewed at it ineffectually with physical weapons. It became obvious that only fire did it much harm, so the Baronet used its hold on him to fling it against the firewall repeatedly, while Boamund cast a fireblade spell on Ahappi's harpoon and Ciddar, well Ciddar tried to help but also managed to singe his newest silk shirt, much to his chagrin, before he grabbed a torch to batter the fly-thing with.
Soon your blows began to take their toll on the monstrosity, and it unleashed a vengeful torrent of pestilence on the Captain to try to drive him off, but with a few more blows you dazed it and then beat it down. It caved in on itself then burst with a sickening splash of filth and a clatter of white bones that seem to have been caught up in its insectoid vortex-body. The Captain invoked Saint Magasta's cold mercy to heal the lord's arm, and you returned to your journey amidst gradually fading fly-swarms.
A bit later, as you turned onto a path through the swamps toward Toadhaven, you spotted a figure moving toward you, which was spotted grabbing flies with a long tongue. It turned out to be the youth Verker, the odd Giranois that Vowka introduced to you. He babbled about Yomil (who you recognized as a name of an infamous God Learner/2nd ager related to the dawn of Rokarism; but also a common name in these parts), Granno, 'Old Gods' and other seeming nonsense, then shuffled into the swamps on his own– but his curiosity in you was evident.
As dusk crept in and the flies finally faded away, you came to the village of Toadhaven. It was a cluster of huts on stilts in the estuarine mudflats, surrounding a central hillock where a quite sturdy manor squatted. The guards didn't address you until you came quite close, then were brusquely uninterested until they were convinced you were the Baronet's group– even then, they didn't bow and scrape, but did take you to the Baronet of Toadhaven's manor.
The Baronet had been in Toadhaven for about 4 years and had constructed quite a nice mini-fortress for his small household of himself, two mysterious wizards, and a rough-looking dozen or so guards. You were welcomed into his spartan waiting room for drinks and met the crude lord of Toadhaven- a rotund, pale and freckled, at times rude, balding Raliosian (claiming to be from Safelster; a inland big city-state to the far northeast) with a rasping voice and a penchant for hot tea and fresh honey from his peasants' beehives. He was guarded about his past and his inclinations but seemed to be a stalwart supporter of Big Ron. His folk were experimenting with raising giant arthropods brought by trolls connected to the scholar Lars Windchare and his bodyguard/companion. After some quick drinks, you were brought to dine with him in his hall.
His name was Baronet Julius al Dupr's, but he dressed and kept himself more like a peasant stickpicker than a nobleman. He said the peasants here were into some strange religion, which he called Henotheism, involving a mixture of Malkionism and pagan spirit/god worship, including interactions with some swamp nymph called “Quick Sister”. He didn't seem concerned at all by their heresy; he was clearly a hands-off lord. But he was concerned by the Evracian monastery nearby, which he blamed for trying to influence his peasants with stupid ideas, and wished ill upon them. He had not however had much trouble with the Giranois, as he put it, explaining that although they had robbed graves and eaten or burned the bodies, the peasants had a philosophy that helped them get over these ghastly events. He thus showed little interest in your goals of peace with the Giranois, but great interest in talk of your adventures (many of which were quite well known to him) or business ventures. You were struck by several things about this lord from afar. His blunt secrecy was not atypical for the paranoid denizens of Giraine, nor was his casual attitude toward religious issues or his peasants (Except the Evracians/Rokari). He seemed quite a capable man with capable household members, but capable of what? He was hard to read even when he was not blatantly sidestepping subjects he did not want to speak about. He certainly knew a lot of goings-on, including your own- he struck you as an alert, well-connected person. He could be a great ally or great trouble, this strange man of Safelster.
Meanwhile at the other end of the dinner table, Ciddar learned from the buxom serving wenches and other servants that there was a blind witch in town called Apatune, whom the peasants looked up to as a priestess and wise woman. You learned of this when you reconvened together in your single, unadorned guest room in the manor house, and discussed plans to investigate whether she might be “the Unsighted One” that Vowka had spoken of…
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