Chapter 7: Swift Creek

As the group travels north through the woods, Draggert tells everyone the legend of Vraath Keep.

Draggert: Amery Vraath was young noble with nice castle called Vraath Keep. He live here in Witchwood with other people who follow and live in big castle where different tribe like A'chook cannot attack. Castle so big that Amery get big head and too proud, and he try to kill forest giant tribe. Forest giants big men with tusks like strongest boar, bigger than Draggert's, and green moss skin like smartest toad. He attack forest giant tribe and kill many, but Amery's big head mostly empty because he not know there two tribes and he only kill one. On night when sky was dark and full of storm and rain, forest giants come to keep with big rocks and trees. They break walls like old turtle shell and kill people hiding inside. Amery Vraath never seen again. He still haunts old, ruined keep in the forest until his bones are found and put down into ground.

Keith frowns throughout the story.

Jorr cuts in.
Jorr: Up ahead's Swift Creek. It turns the forest into a nasty swamp for a spell. Keep your wits about you.

Draggert keeps his voice low.
Draggert: Throrin, you can read dwarf letters?

Throrin: I don't ruddy well just look at them and dream.

Draggert rummages in his sagging backpack and withdraws yet another item. It is a bent, old shovel.
Draggert: I have a shovel with dwarven handwords on it. You can have as gift.
He hands the shovel to Throrin.

Keith cuts in, speaking in dwarven.
Keith (Dwarven): I believe Draggert is "a few rivets short of a masterpiece." Is that the saying?

Throrin grins, nodding to Keith as he looks over the shovel.
Throrin (Dwarven): As close as I've heard any of you short-lived folks speak it.

Throrin reads the runes on the shovel closely.
Throrin: Draggert, this is...it's called "the seeking spade." Where did you get this?

Draggert: I help save dwarf men who get buried in old mine shaft that collapse because of screaming woman.

Throrin looks at Draggert for a long moment.
Throrin: You know, you're alright...for a half-orc. I thank ye, Draggert, on behalf of my kinsman, and I accept this noble gift. How did you bend it?

Draggert shrugs.
Draggert: I had to move very big rock.

Throrin sighs.
Throrin: Well, I suppose orcs can't be trusted with nice things, no matter their intentions.

A wide expanse of dark water has flooded the woodland in this low valley. Trees still protrude from the calm, dark waters here and there, but many swaths of land seem to be little more than pools of algae-choked water. The trill of frogs and the whine of insects fills the air. The forest road leads right down to the edge of the bog, up to a rickety-looking causeway made of thick planks of wood lashed together with mossy rope. The wooden causeway runs for several hundred feet through the bog, only a foot or so above the water.

Throrin: Agh, this looks like a good place to get ambushed, if you ask me.
Throrin unhooks his hammer from his belt loop.

Corrigan draws his swords quietly.

Keith: Really? But you can see a long way. There's nothing.

Draggert: Could be enemy under bridge, or hiding in water with flower tubes.

The group pauses for a moment, listening to the trill of frogs and the buzz of insects. Then, they step onto the walkway with Draggert at the front. They haven't gone far when they notice a half-submerged caravan stuck in the muck a short distance out into the swamp, the canvas tarp across its top rumpled and rotting, one wheel protruding from the murk.

Draggert gets as close as he can to the edge of the walkway, peering at the caravan.

The bog below Draggert gives a massive, rippling lurch and a blurred shape bursts upward, sending a murky spray of swamp water into the air. A snakelike head hangs on the end of a long, powerful neck attached to a bloated body, where still more necks attach until the creature stretches out six long, whipping snake heads, all covered in dull green scales, to attack. The monster must be the size of a horse-drawn cart!

Corrigan: HYDRA!

Draggert is caught completely by surprise. The six heads lash down, each striking with blinding speed. Draggert flings his axe up, parrying one of the heads as two more nip at his legs. He stumbles back, and another of the heads bites savagely into his side, its needle teeth tearing through his armor. He screams, beating at it ineffectively with the haft of his axe. The head lifts him from his feet and twists downward, flinging Draggert onto the boardwalk where he lands with a heavy thud and does not move.

Corrigan rushes forward, rolling under one of the striking heads and swinging his sword upward at it, just as it snakes out of reach.

Jorr looses an arrow into the monster's body with a wet thwup.

Throrin mutters a prayer to Moradin that they might triumph. A warm glow suffuses he and his allies.

Keith points his index finger, firing a smoking, black ray that strikes the body of the beast, sapping its strength.

The hydra roars, a peculiar frog-like sound, and surges half onto the causeway, its heavy feet causing the wood to creak and groan. It lashes out at Corrigan, its teeth grazing his shoulder. The rest of its heads batter and smash into the armored dwarf, but Throrin stays on his feet, screaming defiantly.

Corrigan suddenly leaps from the causeway and into the bog, fetid water rising to his chest, he kicks his legs and swims underneath the hydra's body, swords splashing as he strikes up at it.

Jorr backpedals well out of reach of the monster, loosing another arrow.

Throrin steps over the fallen half-orc, fending off the hydra's heads with his wide, steel shield. He speaks a few words of prayer, touching Draggert's back and suffusing him with healing magic. Draggert's eyes open, angry and bloodshot.

Keith follows Jorr, speaking an incantation and sending two burning lances of fire out from his hand. They strike the hydra's body, inflicting smoking, charred wounds in its scaly flesh.

Three of the hydra's heads snake beneath its body, biting and thrashing at Corrigan. The ranger is quick, even deep in the murk, and he twists in the water and dodges them all, frustrating the monster. The other three batter Throrin with savage bites, the third head biting straight down and onto the dwarf's shield where it is raised to catch in the beast's mouth, fending off a devastating bite to the dwarf's head.

Draggert rolls suddenly across the wooden boards, on his back, and swings his axe with the momentum, cleaving a deep, bloody rend into the Hydra's exposed belly. He screams as loud as the monster.

The hydra sags from the force of Draggert's blow, and Corrigan at last finds his mark. His swords flash upward in three beautiful strokes, liver, gut, and heart. He swims out of the way as the beast gives a final, shuddering breath and collapses dead into the swamp.

Keith bites his nails.
Keith: Heck of a job, everyone! Well done.

Jorr: Very impressive.

Throrin: Damnation! I didn't even get to crack a skull.

Draggert stands, covered in fresh blood. The mad look in his eyes slowly subsides.

Corrigan climbs back onto the walkway, and offers Draggert a stoppered potion.

Draggert takes it, drinking it down.

Keith: Draggert, you alright?

Draggert says nothing. He digs in his alligator skin bag, taking out another potion. He drinks it.

Throrin: You took a beating, ye hairy bastard.

Corrigan and Keith move to check out the wagon.

Draggert searches his bag, finds another potion, and drinks it quietly.

The wagon is old and mostly empty. Near the front, you find a few corpses gone waxy from too long sitting in the bog. One of them, completely submerged in the deep muck, offers up a glint of shining metal.

Corrigan reaches deep and pulls hard, withdrawing a beautiful shirt of glinting chain that slides easily from the body of its former owner. The armor looks brand new, completely unaffected by the slimy bog.

Throrin falls on his ass on the walkway.
Throrin: Mithral silver!

Corrigan whistles softly in amazement.
Corrigan: Now this is treasure.
He heads back up onto the walkway, stowing the armor in his bag for now.

Draggert takes a deep breath and then examines the fallen hydra, trying to figure out the best way to skin the beast.

Jorr shifts uncomfortably on his feet. He looks around continually at the swamp.

Keith: What's wrong, Jorr?

Jorr: Just remembering this old bit of woodsman's wisdom that, in summer, hydras sometimes nest in pairs.

Keith: Um, guys! I think we should get going!

Draggert gives up on the hydra corpse. It's too big.

The party swiftly moves down the boardwalk, across the causeway, and deeper into the forest. They traverse a few more miles, until nightfall closes in around them.