The Dead Marshes. A shifting maze of pools and soft mires and half-strangled watercourses. Dreary and wearisome, the only green was the scum of livid weed on the dark greasy surfaces of the sullen waters. Dead grasses and rotting reeds loomed up from the mists like ragged remnants of long-forgotten summers. The air was black, heavy to breathe, whilst the pale lights of unseen candles, flickering and but ever only half-glimpsed, failed to puncture the gloom. But if such was bad, then the dead faces in the water were worse. Foul and rotting and dead, yet living still, with a fell light in their eyes, [Character] knew better than to look upon them, their dead gazes filled with hatred for those yet living. But even so, a glint beneath the putrid waters caught his eyes, something half-seen, choked and covered in weeds, and gripped tight in the hands of an elf, grey hair floating as a halo about his pale and rotting features, soul fled, but body forever remaining as dread reminder of past horrors.
Character Encounter
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| Options | Loyalists | Neutral | Usurpers |
|---|---|---|---|
| Ignore the body and carry on (FLEE) | ? | ? | ? |
| INVESTIGATE the glint | ? | ? | ? |
| Go and FEEL around the body with eyes closed | ? | ? | ? |
| SING a song of loss and hope to appease the dead | ? | ? | ? |