It has been a busy day, a quarter of which was spent in semi-restful death to the east of Riverhaven. Although I've had enough of death today, I will strive to produce some value in its description here. Mind you, I now know what a goblin feels like when it mistakenly wanders into the barbarian guild. It's not pleasant. I also saw a glimpse into true courage that I could only one day hope to match.

I was in search of a trustworthy friend to battle the spirits that dwell within the Dunshade Manor's basement, when I caught the passing thought of a mind familiar to me. It seems Sarrgon was in the process of helping resurrect a body out on the old Deer Trail east of town. By the time I arrived at the trail's northernmost terminus, the body was no longer defunct but breathing quite steadily on its own. Sarrgon was standing from where he had knelt to raise, and I offered my hand to help him rise, something much unneeded, for his strength and bulk near pulled me down in the attempt!

We gave greetings, and I explained that I hoped to do some hunting of some dangerous undead in order to help fulfill my Quest. His clerical presence would be greatly appreciated though hopefully only on a precautionary basis. Sarrgon agreed to back me up, and we made ready to track back to Riverhaven. It was then that I had one of those "brilliant" insights that one later comes to rue.

"Since we are so far out here already, why do we not explore the swamp where Lesser Sluagh and Boobries gather? "

"Where the mournful ghost sits?"

"Ja! I know the nature of the landscape makes the casting of a Protection from Evil necessary. We will be in and out quickly after facing these two creatures. Moreover, it is nighttime so the way will be open, no?"

Sarrgon gave me a rather incredulous glance, and then shrugged in agreement. "You know that es where Dyrachis are, also?"

I had not known the creature was now present within that portion of swamp. The last time I had ventured within had been several years ago, and I had only seen the Sluagh and Boobries. Praise had accompanied me back then, and we possessed much less skill than I had achieved presently. We had walked out unscathed and much the wealthier for the swarms of critters we had cut down. I did not conceive of any great danger present and told Sarrgon this.

"Dyrachis es Gor'tog for 'Painful Death'." Was all Sarrgon replied.

Over-confidence is a weed that can grow wildly in the field of wisdom if not kept carefully trimmed. I gave the Cleric my best "We will be victorious!" grin and waved away his misgivings. Sarrgon again gave me a resigned shrug and called upon Truffeyeni to bless both our paths and protect us from evil. I gathered Courage from the witnesses at the Deer Trail, and all our burdens were lifted in the process. We set out southward to find the route to the deepest heart of the swamp.

Perhaps I had grown overconfident for the fact that the last several trips I had made through these swamps I had not heard the sibilant whispers of Elyhaar forecasting my doom. I was just telling Sarrgon this when my words faltered and the dark Goddess promised me the comfort of the void to be had. My ears and heart were closed to this forecast, however, and again I attempted to wave away the misgivings with light banter. I turned my attention to the boar trail I was following to make sure I did not break an ankle on the way to my sure death. One would not wish to be late for such, no?

As the night wore on, we reached where-abouts I believed the paths to the darker recesses of Elyhaar's swamp to be. The echoing sound of mourning caught at our ears, and we followed the sound as if it were a darting will-o'-the-wisp even deeper through the woods. Soon the way behind us had closed so that we could only travel forward. Here we saw the wavering spirit of an Elven woman who weeps for a love lost centuries ago. It was her sobs we had followed, and I thought it sad irony that she be doomed to always add to the souls vanquished in these lands. As I can tell you now, we foolish people often ignore the warnings right in front of our faces.

"Look," and I followed Sarrgon's pointing arm to peer eastward toward our destination. I had to repress a swallow, for I could see a multitude of creatures awaiting our company. Dyrachis, Sluagh, Boobries...at least four of each could be seen by a simple glance. I stretched and nodded to Sarrgon. "The way out of this is through some bushes way to the north. Maybe we go there and hunt."

"Sounds wise." Any quick quips in reply I hushed, for it did indeed look like the fight would be thick and furious. I checked my armor one last time, and I ran eastward and then north. Every inch of the swamp was filled with beasts, a mob of critters whose hungry eyes tracked us as we ran through. The white aura of the Protection from Evil prayer upon us would flash again and again as skeletal hands reached up from the swamp in an attempt to pull us down or worse. An angry din of howls and hoots pursued us, until the bush that hid the trail leading out was to our backs. I turned to face the on coming charge. "Now or never!"

I must be honest in that I caught no more than fleeting glimpses of the creatures that overwhelmed us. The boobrie towered over the mess on stilted crane-like legs, a full head taller than Sarrgon himself. Its viscous beak would stab outward with piercing thrusts, attempting to drain the very innards from its pray. The lesser Sluagh were gray-skinned like trolls and uglier than most living creatures have a right to be. At nearly seven feet tall, I suspected few would have the courage to point out its short comings.

These two alone would not pose a threat to any hunter skilled enough to face Swamp Trolls. I know Boobries hunt along with boars near the pierwalk that leads to Swamp Trolls, and sling-wielding Sluagh hunt just over the same pier as well. A Boobrie feather or Sluagh Hide will fetch decent bronze, but I had no time to practice the rangerly arts on the creatures we faced. I searched as I slew, and let the swamps take what treasures the dead may have possessed.

The Dyrachis...spiny six-legged bundles of poisonous quills with an attitude. As big as a yak, they would balloon themselves up to nigh twice their size by inhaling or swallowing large amounts of air. Then, with a loud 'POP', they would rapidly deflate, sending a quill toward their enemies with a pressure unsurpassed by heavy crossbows. If you could advance upon them quickly enough, it seemed only a sharp strike across their taut skin would cause the Dyrachis to explode in a messy splatter of internal organs. I never managed to skin one or search to know if they had treasure worth the effort of dodging their deadly quills.

My confidence was returning as we fought. at least three quills I had dodged or shattered upon my shield. One Dyrachis had been vanquished by a single swing of my axe. The foes kept coming, and it became near impossible to tell at what to swing from one moment to the next. They did not have such difficulties, as there was only one Sarrgon and one Zygmund to take turns attacking. I was about to turn and give the Gor'tog a grin when I heard one of the dreadful 'POPs' followed by a meaty thunk.

I looked to see a quill not an inch from my head. It was lodged deeply, having pierced through both sides of the gauntlet protecting Sarrgon's outthrust hand. He had moved quickly to keep the same quill from penetrating my scalp. It was then I saw the several Dyrachis he had been stonewalling. The Gor'tog had placed himself between them and me while I had been so preoccupied with my own battles. He wore the quills of several hits already and was only now beginning to slow down for their pain.

"POP." "POP." "POP." The missiles tore through his body as if it were a sheet of paper left in a hail storm. I could not get out the first syllable of his name before he had fallen beside me. When it would come time for our corpses to be healed, seven quills were pulled from his body. Seven. Ah, the courage, the will power, and the stamina to do this. If you would think that is not so many, know that when I met my own death a second later, it was only *one* quill that literally hollowed out my chest as it blew through my ribcage and out the back.

Elyhaar's swamp embraced us, pulling our corpses into the cold and muddy bog. For a moment my spirit quailed at the idea of being left forever to wander as does the ghostly sentinel we had seen, but a great shock that I could feel even while disembodied passed through me. When my shade came back to awareness, we had been transported to the black standing stones not far from the boar trail. We had given warning of where we were going to hunt, and soon Sarrgon and I were dragged back to the Deer Trail where this misadventure had started.

I must give recognition to the kind work of all who strove to get Sarrgon and a silly Paladin breathing again: Adept Antenope, Priestess Zellar, WoundBearer Creiten, Priestess Brekken, Sensitive Merrcy, Philosopher Aluriaz, and Sympath Aryana, to you all I give my deep thanks.

To Sarrgon, who is patience personified when it comes to this fool, I offer heartfelt appreciation at being able to name him among my friends. May you also find such courage by simply looking to the companion who stands beside you, good Reader. All too often, it is that courage we overlook yet need the most.

On the morrow, Death Spirits.