Creeplands Ambush
Carlyle was sure this was a bad idea, venturing deeper into the Creeplands, but Marissa was confident that the artefact was located in an old church abandoned within a woodland whose name has since been lost to history. Carlyle didn't think the risk was worth it, but Marissa was
adamant
that securing the artefact was important for the Guild's history.
A Guild he was not technically a part of. He was just a guide who often worked for them, and was on good terms with Marissa. As well as owing her a lot.
But this was... insane.
"You're too jumpy," Marissa assured and chastised at the same time, the brunette looking over her shoulder at him. "As long as we have our Cleansing Potions, we should be safe from corruption. Besides, we can handle a few drones."
"It's not drones I'm worried about," Carlyle answered with a mutter, looking around uncomfortably at the trees around them; they weren't dense yet, but the twisted, often leafless stalks of wood strangled by veins of inky black goop did not ease his concerns. "The Spawn come in many forms. Some are terrifying to behold."
"Quit worrying, Carlyle, or you'll lose the rest of your hair," she quipped.
"I'm already bald, what more could I lose?" he shot back.
"You have eyebrows, don't you?"
He shot her a dirty look, his brown eyes fiercer than they seemed. But her dark blue ones simply rolled as she checked the old map again.
They continued onward, Carlyle scratching at the tattoo of a sword on his right arm, a reminder of his time in a militia unit in the town of Ganaar, on the supposed
real
border to the Dark Goddess' domain. The crazy old man who was the town mayor was adamant that the town, many, many miles away from even the edges of the Creeplands, was not within the Dark Goddess' 'old borders', and would not be consumed, for he knew of her old warning.
Nobody believed him much, but his leadership was unquestionable. And his knowledge of the Spawn was strangely deep. People often wondered just what he knew.
It's where Carlyle learned about the Spawn, about the Creeplands, the Dark Land proper, and how to avoid corruption as best one could, though the mayor's statements on the matter when it came to delving too deep were blunt and bleak; nothing will protect you for long.
And here Marissa was, leading him along a path through a corrupted woods, searching for some old stone path that would have led to the church in question.
The Artefact they sought was some old sculpture with a gemstone in it. Supposedly it had special properties, that it could give those attuned to it a measure of foresight. It was considered lucky by Marissa's guild and an integral part of their history.
Carlyle thought it was a lost cause. He sighed, and shifted his pack, weighed down with rations and camping gear. But, such was the job of a guide.
However, he'd never been this deep, and he wasn't as crazy as some, who ventured even deeper, into more terrifying parts of the land.
The brown leather jerkin he wore over his flax shirt, and the thick cloth pants he wore were sufficient for light grazes, but only the potions they had would ward off corruption, to save them from turning into husks, mindless drones for the Dark Goddess to use to spread her corruption further.
There were a few stories though, that corruption was not the end, that the mind lingered in a new life. Carlyle thought it utter nonsense.
He sighed, pausing mid stride to avoid sinking his foot into a vein of creep stretched across the road, quietly squelching with its insidious purpose.
Suddenly, Marissa let out a jubilant sound, prompting Carlyle to hiss.
"Keep it down, we don't want to attract unwanted attention out here!" he warned, doing his best to keep his voice measured.
"Sorry, but look!" she announced. "We've found it!"
She pointed ahead, to a pile of bricks just barely visible over the dirt. They stretched onward, winding deeper into the woods, the trees getting a little bit more crowded, but still not exceptionally dense. Light still bathed the ground, but it felt off... pale, and diffused, like the warmth of the sun had no place here.
He shivered in uncertainty, but Marissa seemed to be rather excited, her cotton dress and animal-hide poncho seemingly fluffed up as she flexed her muscles in eagerness.
She turned to Carlyle, her curly locks bouncing a little, the nostrils on her dainty nose flaring with her glee.
"Come, it can't be far!"
Carlyle did not share her enthusiasm, his somewhat gaunt face, though he ate plenty well, looking sullen. He shook his head.
"We're going to run into trouble, I know it," he muttered as he closed ranks with Marissa, the woman already bounding down the old, barely visible path as fast as caution would allow.
Thirty winters, and he feared he was going to be doomed by a woman six years his junior, who somehow had experience that outstripped him... in very different areas.
She knew how to fight and counter Spawn, from what books had told her, and from what Carlyle had taught her, though her confidence worried him; avoiding Spawn was always the best course of action, especially when it came to the more monstrous varieties.
And of course, the fact that any of the veins of Creep around them could suddenly come alive and attack them, either as a wave of goop attempting to swamp them, or a mess of tentacles eager to ensnare them and taint them.
She had a short sword with her, he had a dagger and a small bow, the latter more suited to hunting and warding off dangerous predators outside of the Creeplands.
But, he owed Marissa, so he would do his best to get her to this damned church, and get her home.
After a few minutes of walking, they found what they were seeking, nestled among a denser cluster of twisted, malformed trees, their leaves, what was left of them, an inky black colour like the creep that bubbled up from the cracks in their bark.
The branches and twigs were twisted in unsettling ways, sometimes reminiscent of monstrous hands. And given some of the tales he'd heard, that did not give Carlyle much comfort.
The Church itself was in ruins, the belfry barely standing, it's bell long gone and the icon that would have once rose from its pointed tip broken off and missing.
The roof had caved in, and many parts along the top edges of the walls were also broken, only remnants of the stained glass windows present in a handful of faded panes.
The stone otherwise seemed to have stood the test of time, and the strangulation of creep, veins of the stuff pushing through its cracks and over the edges of broken windows.
It was, however, larger than he had thought, possessing two wings near the rear of the main section, though those had largely collapsed, composed mostly of wood instead of stone.
The front doors were wide, though only one of the two remained, and it barely hung on its hinges. Carlyle could see the rotten remnants of pews inside, and just barely made out the platform where the priest would have stood.
It filled Carlyle with a sense of dread.
"I don't like this," he muttered.
"Oh, quit dooming and glooming, we just need to find the Idol, and get home. We'll be fine," Marissa assured.
