On the edge of the swamp, where once flowed a clear, fresh stream, bubbling up from beneath the ground there now seeps a deep, black, and viscous mud that easily claims the lives of those who venture too close. It is sticky, noxious and simmers with some deep-rooted warmth from beneath like a living thing, gurgling with bubbles of some unknown subterranean gas. It sits there, stinking, and ominous, daring the curious to investigate further, to attempt to understand what has come into their swamp. It pulls death to it like a siren song, creatures coming to feed on the prey snared within its bounds, becoming caught themselves.

Dragging itself out one hoof at a time, a creature more skeleton than kin emerges from the muck, with eyes that blaze like rainbow edged white flame set within deep sockets. The black sludge sloughs from its body like fur and its insides blaze with unnatural light, gleaming through the bones. It has almost no right to be alive and yet it lives, one of the elder ones, beyond the memory of those in the swamp, perhaps beyond even the memory of the swamp itself.

It pulls itself from the mire and it waits.

And when someone brave or foolish enough approaches its still, waiting form.

It speaks.

---

OOC:

This thread is a simple CYOA that you can play through if you have gotten your hands on a Slime Puddle Token, either through buying one from the shop or via staff run games and events. When you have one in your inventory, you can bring it to this thread and choose one of your kin to complete the following Choose Your Own Adventure RP to determine just what kind of slime emerges.
Slimes are functional beings, some are more obedient than others. All share a few simple traits, they can grip onto fur, neatly holding onto a kin like a limpet, they can consume small items of waste, be it food or objects and they are almost indestructible.
In order to complete this CYOA, you must have a minimum word count of 250 words.
However, if you hit 500 words, you can claim this RP for 5 RP points.

THE VISION

As kin approach the hollow creature, it turns its head to look at them, but at first says nothing at all, its brilliantly glowing eyes flickering in approval at their disregard for their own safety. The smell here is almost unbearable and seems to burn the nose and sting the eyes, but something keeps them fixed where they stand. It turns its attention on them, and though its skull is always by definition grinning, there is a strong sensation that the creature smiles.

“You belong to them.” It says, and its voice is an exhalation of steam, a hiss of a snake under an unexpected hoof. There is something distorted about it, much like its owner, and a keen razor-sharp intellect underpinning the way they suddenly feel examined by the beast. The longer they look, the more it looks like a kimeti, of a sort, with horns and scales that gleam, floating in the sludge of its body.

“But I can offer the tools to begin to set yourself free. To be infinitely, infinitely more.”

It turns and moves towards the pool, dragging a sludge-clogged tail behind it.

“Every journey begins with the first step.” It says, looking back.

“Come stand by me and take a deep breath. Only those unafraid of the unknown receive my boon.”

Your kin approaches the twisted kin and stands by its side, whether this is out of curiosity, ignorance or some other drive is up to you. However, each kin has the same experience, the smell on the bank is completely and utterly unbearable and whether they choose to stay and wait or panic and try to leave, they find themselves quickly overcome by the intense, strange and chemical fumes from the unnatural pool.

Unconscious, they have an experience that doesn’t feel quite like a dream.

It is more like a nightmare.

---

OOC

Write your kin’s experience by the pool and the following nightmare they experience. Each nightmare corresponds to the type of slime that will emerge from the muck to join your kin as their companion. You can also draw your response to this prompt, with a minimum of lined and shaded or lined and colored (or fully rendered lineless!)

PROMPTS

THE OFFERING

It might be hours, it might be days, but your kin re-awakens from their fitful sleep, feeling nauseous and ill, struggling to understand where they are. They feel disoriented, as if they were upside down, struggling to stand, and as their senses clear, they spot the strange kimeti watching them. It is hard to shake the feeling of their nightmare that clings to them.

They are beneath a tree, poisoned by the corrupted stream, its leaves brittle and crumbling to dust, descending like glitter in the moonlight, where it settles across them like stars.

“You took the first step.” The kimeti says, “The next is the exchange. In order to receive a gift, you must give one first. Bring me an object that means something to you. Throw it into the pool. Discard that part of your life, surrender it. You will be blessed for your boldness.”

And it waits.

They find themselves free to leave, free to make their way away from the pool. However, the nightmares do not stop. Every single night they find themselves in the same place, the same nightmare from when they passed out at the pool, and every day they feel drawn back to that place.

They need to complete the exchange, even just to have their peace returned to them. So they do, and they bring the item they were asked to bring.

And they throw it into the pool while the strange being watches them do it.

---

OOC:

Write your kin throwing an object into the pool as an offering, along with why they are giving it up and what it represents to them. It is possible to draw for this prompt, in which case you can draw any scene from this stage.

JUDGEMENT

The kimeti watches the item sink beneath the sludge, and it nods, satisfied.

“Obedient.” It says, cynically. “Like so many of your kind. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing interesting in you. It’s there isn’t it? The desire for something more, the desire for something no one else has. You don’t care so much what it takes, do you?”

It tilts its head, slime dripping from its face to the ground.

“You are bound now.” it exhales, turning to start to wade out into the pool.

“It will find you, in place of the nightmares. Whether you will it, or no.”

And then, consumed by the slime, it is gone.

And when your kin returns to wherever they call home, the slime finds them.

---

OOC:

Roll a 1d100 and if you get a 95 or above, you are given a blessed slime by the kimeti. @blue in a new post to receive a custom slime token that can be submitted via the Token Turn-in Thread to receive a uniquely colored slime that can take on the properties of one of the six slime choices in the first post.

At this point, you will roleplay out your kin's reaction to the new slime that comes to live with them!

When you have completed all prompts and reached a minimum of at least 250 words, post in the certing thread using the following form:

Murkcrow had heard stories of the bizarre monster that had risen from the swamp: the skeleton that gleamed with arcane light, its burning eyes daring any kin to come closer and learn its secrets. He had heard these stories, and he wanted nothing to do with them. Obelisks were already enough unquestionably mysterious ancient forces for one kin, he felt. It had been some time since his previous adventure; the stories had been told; an uneasy peace had been established between his familiars; Stalker had finally stopped clinging to him like she feared he would disappear forever. No, going off to investigate tales of spooky scary skeletons was not in Murkcrow's mettle this season.

And yet... As he heard the rumors grow bigger with each passing, stories about strange gifts and strange dreams and cryptic commentary (from the skeleton?!), he couldn't help but find himself intrigued. From the rumors, it seemed kin that encountered the creature lived to tell the tale, so finally Murkcrow assembled a small pack of jerky and dried fruit and went off to find the skeleton.

Finding it was...not as difficult as he expected. Kin who had seen the skeleton were more than happy to point him in its direction, or rather, warn him away. And when he was close enough to find all other kin fled and gone, it was passing dusk, and the thing blazed like a beacon in the dark. Murkcrow inched toward it, dread creeping into his bones, fighting the urge to flee.

In the (not) flesh, the monster was both awe-inspiring and dreadful to look at, and the smell - even from a distance it was overpowering. Murkcrow could feel his skin crawling in an all too familiar way. He took a deep breath, crept closer, until he had a clear view of the skeleton in all its horror: unmistakably a kimeti with gleaming horns and scales. The creature turned to look at him and he froze in place, transfixed, awed, and something else.

"You belong to them," it rasped, and he wanted to ask, "who?", but his tongue was frozen.

It continued, “But I can offer the tools to begin to set yourself free. To be infinitely, infinitely more.” And then, it turned and walked into the tarry black pool behind it.

Sweet Motherfather, it can walk? thought Murkcrow. And then, what am I getting myself into?

“Every journey begins with the first step. Come stand by me and take a deep breath. Only those unafraid of the unknown receive my boon."

Murkcrow felt something relax in his spine. It seemed he had the option of leaving. And then he leaned over and retched in the muck. The smell really was too much.

Stomach empty, Murkcrow stared at the skeleton a long moment. The skeleton stared back at him. Murkcrow let out a long breath. Had he not spent a month on the side of that forsaken mountain, hunting the indescribable shard creatures? This thing had only the same hooves and teeth he had. It was nothing. Finally he stepped closer, preparing a speech of false bravado, but the stench overcame him instantly and he slumped unconscious at the water's edge.

BLACK – Trapped in the pool, they begin to sink, more and more until they are pulled beneath. They see the grinning skull of the guardian watching them.

Murkcrow woke to the alarming sensation of sinking into the mud and looked around: somehow, he had slipped into the murky black ooze of the skeleton's pool while he was unconscious. The skeleton stood over him, silently leering. The stench was curiously absent.

He could feel the tarry black ooze sucking him downward, and he tried to lift a hoof, swim back to higher ground - but the ooze just pulled him further down. Murkcrow could feel himself begin to panic. The more he struggled, the quicker he sank. Falling into mud so viscous that a kin required rescue wasn't rare in the swamp, but no one was here to rescue him. He was going to die here, in front of this asshole skeleton thing, and nobody would even know what happened to him! Murkcrow stopped moving, remembering the advice. Stay calm, stop moving, and you'll float to the top. But he didn't float; he just kept sinking, deeper and deeper, until only his head remained above the surface. Somehow when he opened his mouth to shout at the skeleton, it filled with tar or cotton, making it impossible to make a sound...

Just as he slipped below, he remembered what the skeleton had said: "Only those unafraid of the unknown receive my boon." His vision filled with darkness, there was a brief moment of suffocation -

---

Murkcrow woke up again with a gasp, back at the edge of the pool. He lay there panting heavily for a long moment before shakily rising to his hooves. The monster started speaking to him again, and almost made him jump. He had somehow forgotten it was there.

“You took the first step. The next is the exchange. In order to receive a gift, you must give one first. Bring me an object that means something to you. Throw it into the pool. Discard that part of your life, surrender it. You will be blessed for your boldness.”

"Surrender it," Murkcrow repeated, dazed. The creature stared at him, eyes blazing expectantly. He staggered back from the pool, shaking like a newborn foal. His mind buzzed with the eldritch power in the air. Slowly, he made his way back home, growing more steady on his hooves as the skeleton disappeared behind him.

Murkcrow had a definite sense that he had made a contract with the creature, and one did not simply ignore contracts with...whatever that thing was. But fulfilling his end of the deal was another matter. What could he possibly offer the skeleton?

The first night, he reached no conclusion, and was wracked by nightmares of drowning in the pool.

"Alright, I get it," Murkcrow groaned the next day. He had no idea how literal the spirit's words were, but there was perhaps one piece of himself he could give up - something he had thought much more important in his younger days than he did now. But he had never been successful in that area, and had no mementos to offer the spirit.

---

Murkcrow returned to the skeleton's pool with a small bundle wrapped in leaves. "I hope this is acceptable," he said as he watched the bundle sink into the ooze. "I cannot literally give you my heart, but I offer to you my own unfulfilled wishes for romance."

The creature nodded. “Obedient, like so many of your kind. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing interesting in you. It’s there isn’t it? The desire for something more, the desire for something no one else has. You don’t care so much what it takes, do you?”

Murkcrow frowned. He wasn't really here because he wanted to be special or something. He thought. But he kept quiet.

“You are bound now," the creature exhaled, as it walked back into the pool. “It will find you, in place of the nightmares. Whether you will it, or no.”

What is "it"? thought Murkcrow as he watched the monster disappear into the muck. But he was free of the eldritch throbbing in his head. Once more, he returned home, to wait for "it" - and eat the rest of the squirrel he had killed for the monster's sacrifice.

"It", it turned out, was a blob of ooze, rank and black as the monster's pool, that came burbling out of the swamp as Murkcrow finished his dinner and consumed the bones of the squirrel without so much as a by-your-leave.

"A great reminder," Murkcrow thought gloomily, while the rest of his menagerie examined the creature with clear distaste.

The Vision

Crying Lightning had fished in this area before--many times, in fact. It was his favorite spot, really, in part because it was such a clear and peaceful little stream, flowing off a second, slightly larger one. Today he settled in to wait, ignoring the faint signs of danger at first--the whiff of decay, the silence of the woods, the sparseness of the fish...alarm didn’t strike him until he saw the first dead one. A little fish, seemingly long gone belly-up. He looked to the mouth of the stream, and he noticed a wisp of dark water, blacker than any silt he’d seen drifting through the swamp’s waters, flowing from the larger river into this one. Sunset’s hackles raised, a low growl signaling that the little wolf sensed something bad. It looked like the whole upper basin was that toxic black. That’s...that’s not right. I was just here. I was here yesterday and it wasn't like this. They’ve all rotted away. It looks like they’ve been this way for days. I was just here. He began to walk the river’s edge, Sunset stalking at his side. They saw more fish. The smell grew stronger as they followed the river, to the point where it made Crying Lightning’s head reel. “Turn back, Sunset. Go home.” Staunchly, the wolf stood in defiance.

There was a sound from upriver. A deep, unsettling note--it resonated in his heart, sounding almost familiar and yet completely wrong. He flinched at it. “Go!” This time, Sunset listened. He considered following his own advice, but he had to know. He had to see. This river had been perfectly normal...but that was yesterday. Be safe, Sunset. I’ll follow you as soon as I can.

As he walked to the bank, the air felt more and more grim and heavy, and he saw the... former...river…

It was foul, bubbling, transformed overnight into a nightmare bog that seemed to exude an aura of pure death. Yet the greatest surprise was that he was not alone here. There was something else at the water’s edge. He knew this was what had called to him--just like the voice, this creature was almost Kimeti--almost. He approached the bizarre, tar-rotted thing, and was about to ask it what this all meant when it spoke first. It spoke of ‘belonging to them’ (who?) ‘becoming something more’, but Crying Lightning drew himself up to height and demanded, mid-spiel, ”What have you done to the river?!” It paused for a moment. He felt a chill as it seemed to grin, sizing him up with a wolfish and mocking look. ”Who...are...what...ar--” It began to speak right over him, as though it was reciting lines, and his own voice shrank back.

It walked--maybe slid--to the rancid riverbank, watching him expectantly, mockingly. What was this place now? What had this monster turned it into? Would the Motherfather really allow the existence of something so...toxic? Questions buzzed in his mind, more loudly than he’d ever questioned anything. “Only those unafraid of the unknown receive my boon.”

Was he afraid? What would this lead to? He felt unease begin to dissolve into something else, but the heavy atmosphere had already left his head spinning. I’m not afraid. I’m not. As he joined the ghastly figure right on the bank, his head recoiled from the fumes with a grimace. His legs stood fast. His legs were numb. He could barely breathe...and then both his legs and mind gave out at once.

The steep hills towered over either side of him as he made his way back through the valley. It must have been a terrible dream he had, of black water and a ghoulish figure...he’d fallen asleep while out fishing. Sunset loped beside him, and he carried the few fish he’d gotten before nightfall in a tortoise shell. It wasn’t much, but there was always--

What was that sound?

He had no time to react. No warning before the mountain rushed down, bashing his legs from under him. No chance to pull himself up against the mud before he was swept away in a heap. There was chaos, crushing pain, and then...silence again. He couldn’t move. Packed into a twisted pile of limbs under the crushing weight of the mudslide, he could feel the pressure crushing his chest farther with each breath. Faintly...he heard a howl of panic...futile digging above him...he was terrified, until he heard Sunset’s footsteps retreating and the long sorrowful wail of his companion drifting away. Be careful, buddy...be good...I can’t...follow you this time… The world was crushing in on him, but as he put up a final excruciating fight against the inevitable he heard the rumbling, haunting cry of that thing by the river. It was the last thing he heard.

The Offering

In the fog of fading sleep, he felt a pawing at his shoulder. He jumped as he blearily realized that...he was alive. The mudslide wasn’t real. It felt too real, it left him feeling sick. Numb. He felt as though he wasn’t real. Then there was a cold and damp touch against his nose that pulled him back...Sunset? His vision steadied as Sunset nipped his face affectionately. Nuzzling against his trusted familiar, Crying Lightning steadied his mind. He looked around. That thing...was here. It was still here. Reality hit him.

He looked up. He was under a tree that had been grand and beautiful, alive, a shelter on the riverside...but that was yesterday. Maybe longer, now...how long had gone by? The poison had drained it of life. It belonged to this twisted river. The Kimeti had begun to speak again, its words barely reaching him yet their meaning etched into his mind. Sacrifice something.

Crying Lightning was done with this game. Understanding why this had appeared might be impossible, and so he left the bog and resolved to let it be. He was done making it his problem. It was officially too much. He found another place to fish, far away from there, and arrived home as night fell. He spent the night outside with friends, drumming on his favorite log and singing as they roasted fish. He wanted to laugh, to sing, to forget. Yet, he was afraid to sleep. But as they all parted after the night of fun and the moon began to sink, he let himself rest.

Rest never came. Nightmares plagued him. The mudslide, the poisoned river, the dead trees. The danger where he had always found sanctuary. Why? Why? What was the meaning of it? He drifted in and out of sleep, for a day and an evening, waking hours spent pacing and staring towards that cursed river. He felt a weight of profound loss...but a thought occurred to him among all the sleepless fog. Someone else might stumble on it. He needed to know what might happen, needed the answers that Kimeti may have. Nobody should be plagued the way he was.

An object that means something to you...Discard that part of your life.

What if he took a simple turtle shell? He tried, he brought a shell he carried fish in. He hurled it in, watching it sink. The Kimeti said nothing. Nothing, for a very long time. Crying Lightning quietly went home. It’s over, he thought. Over and done.

He awoke in the night, coughing, vividly feeling the crushing weight of mud and stone. Stamping his hooves, he screamed in anguish. Sunset whined, pressing his nose against his companion’s ear, attempting to comfort him. With a deep breath, Crying Lightning stood. He couldn’t keep on like this. Cheating didn’t work. Somehow, it knew. He looked at his log--it had accompanied his songs for years ever since he found it as a foal, and here he was...thinking about it. It was his prized instrument. All the nights of revelry and days of song would never be the same without it. It felt like throwing away a piece of his childhood.

It had to go.

It had to go. With a heavy, heavy heart, with a face of cold stone, he brought it. His real offering. He wasn’t going to betray how much it hurt to do. That Kimeti smirked. Crying Lightning closed his eyes as he kicked it into the murk. He couldn’t watch that thing’s grinning face...and couldn’t watch his beloved drum sink into the dark muddy unknown.

Judgement

”Obedient,” it said, and he nearly snapped. Only Sunset’s exhale beside him stopped him from going off. I’d have never done another thing for you if you’d just shut up and taken that damn shell! It kept speaking, but its words were nonsense. What would find him? What was he bound to? There were no answers, and before he could ask questions, it had sunk into the murk.

He felt as though he had just exchanged one weight for another. He returned to the little camp he called home, as his neighbors invited him to feast on fruit. For the first time any of them could recall, he turned them down. Slept badly last night, he told them, sorry. They understood and wished him a comfortable rest, and he finally--blessedly--settled into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When he woke up at last, he heard a growl first. It got his attention quickly, and he looked around. Sunset stood, hackles up, staring into the corner, and in the corner was...a bright purple...blob? It seemed to cower from them, naturally he thought. Nothing without teeth would be bold when backed into a corner. He poked the sticky thing with a hoof, trying too late to back away as it climbed up his foreleg. He had a feeling this is what was supposed to find him. Well, no give-backs, he supposed.

It took some time to get used to the weird little thing, but he realized slowly that it had its uses. It could carry two shells worth of fish--he had a feeling it could even hold more. The swamp had spawned a bizarre danger, but perhaps this was also supposed to be. He realized he’d never understand any of this. Maybe in a way he’d had the right idea all along. Roll with the current, and maybe it will be fine. He took it on himself, however, to warn any kin nearby of just what they’d be walking into if they sought out the decaying Kimeti in the deep woods.

Feed the Need had found the ominous looking pit while searching for more foods to add to his steadily growing store of foods. The cooler season was coming, hungry mouths would be waiting and he needed to make sure he could help them all. This noxious liquid near him though had stopped him in his tracks. It stank, and it both pulled him closer and repulsed him all at once.

He was more than a little glad his companions weren't with him. He wasn't entirely sure he could trust Stash not to run into the goop, for one. The little furbody was off doing...whatever it was it did when he wasn't around, probably annoying Hoard if he had to place a guess. It tended to piss his badger off roughly all the time, so it wasn't a very unsafe guess he was making.

Feed lost himself staring at the smelly, bubbling liquid, almost not seeing the skeleton and muck kin standing there until it spoke. His attention tore away. "Excuse me?" “You belong to them.” the repeated words were caught this time, and he shuddered at the implication. He had no desire to join the dead things in the dark mire before him.

Breathing in a slow bread, one hoof then another moved ahead of him, bringing him to stand next to the creature - no kimeti - for that's what it was beginning to look like, a kimeti made of very non kimeti things,and did as bid. He took a slow, deep breath and began to cough, nose burning. He stumbled backward, tripping over his hooves and mercifully landing not in the tar pit, but on the ground a short distance off.

As his vision blurred and fell to darkness he woke and felt immediate panic. He was in a larger amount of water than he'd ever seen before, the salty water splashing into his eyes, and being sucked in via mouth and nose, causing him to cough and splutter even as he swam.

There was no land to set hoof upon as best he could tell in any direction and yet he swam. Maybe, just maybe, he'd find somewhere. There was no way he was out in the middle of the ocean, right? ...wrong.  Everywhere Feed looked was nothing but water and more water. He tried to keep a steady pace so he wouldn't tire himself out but eventually, his legs cramped, and he couldn't swim anymore, instead falling below the churning, salty waves.

His nose and throat burned as the water rushed in, his lungs ached as he held his breath as long as he could before finally a desperate gasp caused the air to rush out in bubbles and the water to rush in, flooding his lungs. A bare glimmer of the sky through the choppy water, and it all went to black for Feed the Need, his last thoughts of his pets and who would take care of them now that he was gone?

Sunlight in his face it what woke Feed and he slowly pushed himself up, feeling like everything was spinning. His stomach felt terrible, and it didn't get better as he struggled to stand, stumbling a few times before finding his footing and moving toward the unsettling kimeti.

Ignoring the dusting of decayed leaves across him, he instead tried to focus on what he was being told. An item that meant a lot to him. He could do that. He made his way far from the pool still feeling under the weather after that unsettling nightmare, and the terrible smells, and found himself home before long where he settled, and rested.

Longer than he meant to he rested, as he thought about what it was he could take back to the pool. So hard he thought, and so tired from the nightmare that he passed out without meaning to....and fell into the same nightmare he'd had at the toxic pool, waking with a choked gasp a cold sweat covering him. The urge to return to that pool was strong, too strong to ignore however, and he climbed to his hooves and began to go through his things to find something appropriate to take back with him.

He had little in the way of personal belongings, and instead he took time to gather a large amount of good, edible foods up into a tortoise shell. Meats, berries, greens, it was all heaped up and he began the slow trek back to the pool, making sure none of his pets follow, or that any of the food fell out.

Finally at the edge of the pool he stopped, looking into the sludge before he was taking the shell and the food, and dumping it all in, his stomach dropping and heart breaking some. So much hard work had been put into the hunting, the gathering. So many hungry kin with empty bellies would remain that way with this offering to the pool and the odd kimeti that came from it.

It was hard for Feed to let go of the food he'd been diligently collecting and storing to give to those who needed it. It filled him with a sense of purpose to help those who needed. It didn't matter to him if they were strapping healthy kin who could by all accounts do for themselves, or an old kin who was too slow and weak, or a young kin who was too inexperienced. Sure he was possibly being taken advantage of at times, but it was alright. He tended to have enough for everyone, even those who were too lazy to do for themselves.

So to tip this food over the edge, it cut him to the core, made him feel like he was failing so many kin that would come to him, then be sent away hungry and wanting. Still, he couldn't take it back now. That word, the sarcastic tone made him bristle slightly, however he held his tongue thinking it best not to anger this odd creature beside the sticky, dark pool lest he become a part of it himself.

As it returned to where it came from, Feed the Need turned and headed for home, hoping that there would be no more nightmares, only proper sleep when the time came twice was enough he didn't want to live this over and over again for who knew how long. He'd have to find a new shell somewhere too he realized. A small price to pay for potential peace.

Finally he found sleep, or perhaps it found him. In any case, Feed collapsed with exhaustion, and slept a mostly dreamless sleep. Water was in his dreams, but not the nightmare he'd had the last two sleeps. This was a little more tolerable at least. Morning came with noise and he stepped out of his shelter to his pets not handling a new blue blob-y thing just sort of scooting about.

He stared at it long and hard, trying to make sense of it, before realizing this had to be what the creature had told him about. With a tired sigh Feed stepped closer "Alright little guy, lets figure you out hm?"

(1201 words)

Moss-Flower had heard the stories. Of Kin who came across this place and were drawn in by some.. creature. The doe couldn't stand by and not investigate, especially if it were something dangerous. She would need to warn travelers who sought out her tribe for help and healing. This seemed to be something gravely unsettling by the accounts she had heard in passing. It was, indeed, gravely unsettling. This creature should not be moving, let alone talking. It was like something from a nightmare. Moss-Flower stood her ground, carefully observing it. Looking over all the sticky, whatever this was, on the ground. She suddenly felt relieved that she'd made Whisper stay back at the Tribe. If he'd gotten stuck in here she would have been heartbroken. Narrowing her eyes as it beckoned her closer she nods. She wanted to know as much about this place as she possibly could, no matter what. As she stood beside the, Kimeti, she felt a sense of dread envelope her. Clawing at her chest like a wild animal. She realized she'd been holding her breath and, as the creature invited her to inhale, she did so. Mostly out of instinct. It was so sudden, the dizziness, like she'd eaten a poisonous plant or the fever was upon her. This fever made her feel cold and hot all at once, nauseous and dizzy, completely outside of herself. What was this place? Moss-Flower rarely felt fear. She was afraid. She closed her eyes and breathed again. Unable to hold her breath.

The cold water lapped at her neck, she coughed and choked as she tried desperately to keep her head above water but the waves kept coming, harder and faster. Every time she was able to surface another crashed into her, forcing her under. After several minutes of being drowned she gasped and broke the surface. All around her was water. No land. No trees. No rocks. Nothing. She was completely lost at sea. How did she get here? Wasn't she just in the swamp? She had a vague memory of being somewhere dark.. that smell.. but now it was all salt and water. Another wave crashed down mercilessly upon the small doe and her body began to give out. She couldn't keep her head up anymore, every time she surfaced she felt weaker and weaker. One final time she broke the surface, only her nose, inhaling deeply that final breath of life giving air before the ocean claimed her. Sinking down, deep, the world grew still. No more sound but the pulsing beat of the ocean pressure and the sound of her fading heartbeat. No more fight. Just stillness. Darkness..

Moss-Flower gasped and jerked awake. Stumbling backwards away from the creature and panting deeply. What.. what was that?! She felt like she needed to throw up. Her body weak. Her limbs heavy. Thoughts seemed to come and go faintly but she was so confused even when they made sense. She settled beneath the sick tree and pity filled her heart for the once beautiful foliage. The leaves.. like dust. How could this place have come to the swamp? How could this creature be here? Sickening the swamp with this vile filth. She wondered why she'd never heard of it before. This creature seemed old, almost ancient. But she felt violated. It would take time to clean the stain of this place off her soul. Getting shakily to her hooves she noded her head toward the Kimeti, turning to leave. She had no intention of coming back. She didn't want what this place was offering.

Weeks went by and Moss-Flower did not get better. Every night the dream was the same. She drowned. Alone at sea. Darkness. The final evening she awoke in a fit of sweat. Gasping for air. Whisper alerted, looking cautiously up at her from their perch. Concern deep in the cranes eyes. "I know old friend.. I must return." She sighed, this enchantment, or curse, or spell would not break until she gave it something. Something to feed its hunger. Something that held meaning. Looking over the items she had her eyes settled on a single, perfect, shell. White as alabaster. Delicate as a tender bud in spring. She gently lifted it with her mouth and turned to leave. Whisper jumped up to follow but she shook her head. She wouldn't take that risk. This shell had once belonged to someone she had cared deeply for. The only Kin she had ever truly felt romantic love for. She would feed it to the creature and his 'beast'.

It took her all night to find. When dawn began to break the smell hit her. Arriving at the edge, the creature grinned, or she thought it was grinning at least. With a soft sigh she flicked her head and released the shell. It landed far from her, hitting the liquid and slowly sinking. Like a bright star swallowed by the darkness of the sky. "Your offering." Her gaze slid to the creature and she heard his final words before, without a look back, she had turned and left. Never to return. Her warning would be firm to any in her keep. This place was.. wrong. It took her a lot less time to make it back to the tribe. As she was heading up the hill Whisper exploded from the place she slept and looked completely unhinged. As they perched, alighting on her back, the great bird stared hard into the opening to their sleeping quarters. "What is it?" Whisper clicked their beak. Annoyed. Approaching the opening she stopped, frozen in her tracks. A brilliant blue slime poked the front half of its body out of the entry way. It seemed a little shy. Jiggling as it froze in place. Moss-Flower looked back at Whisper and furrowed a brow. What was this small creature? She'd never seen anything like it before. Suddenly a breeze rustled her mane and the memory of the Kimeti's words came back to her. “It will find you, in place of the nightmares. Whether you will it, or no.”. This must have been the it. Carefully, she advanced towards the slime. It seemed to shrink back a little, nervous, as if it could sense her unease.

Moss-Flower lowered her head towards the creature and nosed it a little. Water splashed out from its sides and she lifted her head quickly. What was this thing? It gave a little purr and jiggled again. The pale doe exchanged a look with her Crane companion, Whisper was not impressed at all, before lowering her head and nuzzling it again. The little creature jiggled and vibrated, as if it were ticklish. She smiled. She had no idea what it was, if it were part of that horrible place or not, but it seemed sweet. Kind tempered. Being full of water maybe it could help with the plants in the garden. Either way, she would give it time. At least the nightmares would finally stop.

(1,170 words. Claiming 5 RP points.)

The Vision

---

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... uncert.png[/imgleft] She didn't want to be here. The smell was awful, and worse yet, she was alone. One by one, she'd made her friends stay behind– nearby, yes, but still behind. She didn't want them anywhere near this noxious air, this foul water. Reptiles' respiratory systems were so sensitive, so fragile. Their lungs were nothing like a kimeti's, they weren't meant for this kind of toxic air. It was all she could do to withstand it herself. But she'd do it. She needed to do it. This winter had been hard for her cold-blooded friends, who needed warmth to stay alive. Some had hibernated, and mercifully she hadn't lost any, but she needed certain assurances. She needed a way to make them stay warm in an emergency, and so... she was here.

The bubbling tar pits made her lip curl up involuntarily. Could some of this... stuff... really help her friends, should the weather keep being cold? She shuddered, then continued on. It wasn't fear holding her back; it was revulsion. She'd get over it. She'd be fine, and it'd be worth it in the end, having a portable heat source. This was something she needed to do, like any other maintenance task. She'd dip in, find a heat slime, do what she had to do, and then go home.

She didn't notice the hollow thing at first, the pain in her nose too distracting. Her head felt congested, like her body was physically trying to repel the stench. But this was good. This was what she'd heard of, and that meant she was on the right track. Her burden, nestled in its carefully-crafted leaf bag, felt heavy against her neck. She felt bad knowing she'd have to leave it here in this place, devoid of life as it was. Or... perhaps that wasn't fair. Devoid of life as I know it, she amended mentally. She let the hollow thing speak to her, but her mind was in too much of a fog to actually internalize its? their? Their words. They were alive, but... not in any way she understood. Dumbly and numbly, she stood beside the hollow kin, then sank to her knees as if they'd been kicked out from under her. If she didn't know that other kin had returned alive from this, she'd assume the worst– a trap. But she'd heard tell of the hollow kin, and knew that they didn't want her life. They wanted something else. Her fear, maybe?

As she blacked out, she realized the thing was right. She wasn't afraid of the unknown. She feared many other things, but at this point, oblivion... was welcome.

---

In her dream, or whatever it was, she felt her flesh peeling away. At first, it was like a lizard shedding its skin; it itched, but it was satisfying once finished. But something- the wind, the sand, the fiery heat- wasn't content with her outer skin. It sank deep claws into her chest, peeling her open, flaying her to the oncoming rush of sand. Something forced her forward, taking control of her bones and moving each hoof- no, those were gone, too. Only bone nubs now. Her nerves were on fire, literally and metaphorically, and she wanted to collapse. But the desert wouldn't let her. The wind roared and howled with a fury she couldn't imagine, while streams of sand hissed betrayal in her ears. All of her failings, and the burden she bore, the grains of sand whispered in steady recitation. Perhaps when she awoke, she would understand why this was happening, why these things came to mind now– but for now she did not, and she attempted to weep in confusion and heartbreak. Only sand dripped from her eyes, her desiccated tears joining the endless river of burning sand.

---

Water dripping on her snout woke her from the acrid fog of the sleep that was not sleep. There was no rest to be had, and she didn't know how long she was under. It was dark when she woke, but dark of the same day? She didn't know. She felt exhausted, and as she wobbled to her feet, she met the gaze of the hollow kin. She listened to them, their voice hypnotic. The burden lay against her chest, rising and falling with her ragged breaths. She nodded, entranced. Yes. She had brought something very, very important to give.

---

The Offering

---

The winter had been a hard one. For kin, whose warm coats and hot blood kept them happy and well, it had been a delightful romp through the snow. But the reptiles of the swamp were ill-suited to the cold, and for some, their typical winter torpor hadn't been enough to keep them safe. The turtles had all swum out to sea, where she imagined that warm water awaited them. The caimans burrowed, or else calmed themselves so that their hearts beat slowly, preserving their lives. Tegus, which were clearly the most superior species, didn't really seem to be bothered. In fact, some of the girls had even felt... sort of warm. This was a mystery that she chalked up to, as she'd always known, tegus just being amazing. The feathered serpents were mostly fine, the tortoises dug deep to hibernate... but there were others. Others who weren't so lucky. Others whose hearts slowed and then stopped. She found them curled tightly, eyes shut tight or staring at nothing. Each one was a tiny heartbreak. She knew that nature could be cruel, and she was no stranger to death- she was no stranger to killing, either to survive or to grant mercy. She understood. But understanding didn't mean you had to like it, and it was this helplessness to the cold that brought here to the slime pools.

She slit the binding along the edge of the leaf carrier. The snake was a brilliant thing, its scales iridescent. In life, its polished onyx eyes matched a jet black tongue that had flicked curiously as it hunted at the water's edge. She'd known this snake, and had thought that it had found itself a burrow to ride out the winter. But just a day after the first snows fell, she'd found it, curled around itself, stiff and solid. If she'd known, she could have brought it inside. Her body was warm. Not warm enough for thriving, but for survival, she could do the trick. But she hadn't known.

She shook her head as she looked the body over. No, she would not be throwing the snake in the pool. Placing gently, yes, letting the water that was not quite water take it. But life had already thrown the little creature away, and she certainly wasn't going to do the same thing. A few tears went with it, and as its body sank into the murk, she quietly released the sense of guilt she'd been carrying around. It was important to her, feeling that obligation towards the lives she watched. She liked serving as their steward, but she had to admit to herself that she couldn't save them all. She couldn't protect everyone. That's why she was here, after all. She couldn't save every little lizard and snake, but she could provide them the tools to save themselves. She had a plan for the slime she was here for, and if it took a sacrifice, then so be it.

---

The Judgement

---

Her own hollow laughter followed the hollow thing. "This is your pool, isn't it? If you say I have to make an offering to get a slime out of here, then so be it. I'm not doing this for my health– I'm doing this because I need something you have. It's like you said. An exchange. Everything has its price. Yours, all said and done, really isn't that high. If some smelly tar that's kind of alive is going to follow me home, it's doing so because I'm asking it to. I'm inviting it in."

It followed her sooner rather than later. As she left that place, feeling far more determined than she had when she arrived, the bubbling followed her. She didn't look back until she'd reached the copse where Trouble and So Soft waited for her, with Fifteen and Tantrum and Sprout flitting about overhead. She stopped and waited, letting the ooze follow her. She nudged it with a hoof; it nudged back. She sank her hoof into it up to her ankle; it wrapped itself around her leg. The warmth was exceedingly pleasant, and Strange Creature smiled.

It had absolutely been worth it.

1428 words

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... uncert.png[/imgleft] He was back. Why was he back? Feed the Need couldn't believe he was here. Here. Again. Maybe the fumes from the last time had gotten to him, warped his better judgement some, and that's why he found himself here again. Breathing in noxious air that made eyes, nose and lungs burn, made him want to turn, and to run. Yet, he couldn't. Not really. He was here, because he'd come to learn the value of the creature that had followed him home... the water it provided. With another, with more he could help so many more. Do so much more.

So when the being, the creature turned to him and spoke, he was prepared. So very prepared. He didn't know if the thing would recall him from not so long ago, and he found he didn't care either way. He stepped up to it's side and he breathed in deeply, the item he'd brought had been set down carefully before hand. He recalled the effects and didn't want to drop it into the goop before it was time. Still, Feed made sure to be just far enough back he himself wouldn't topple into it either.

What he had expected, wasn't coming to pass. He expected water, so much water going into this and yet he now found himself going past a hillside, and was surprised. Especially as he looked up it, and found mud sliding towards him quickly. More mud than he'd ever seen in his lifetime. More than he thought possible. He ran, turning tail to get away from it as quickly as possible and he found himself quickly over taken by it, pushed along by the thick heavy mud. No amount of struggling to get loose worked, and with a panicked cry he found himself going under, the mud encasing and tapping him.

Feed wasn't sure how long he was out this time, it was too dark to tell, but he didn't think it was the same dark he'd fallen asleep in, his stomach rumbled unhappily so he'd missed a meal, or two. He ignored it. His own discomfort wasn't important just then. No, he was here to help the less fortunate kin who felt this all the time. It was a good reminder of why he did this.


Last time, he'd brought food, so much food it had hurt to part with it. This time he brought a well loved, time proven shell he used to hold foods, and move them around. He'd had it for years, since he'd started his mission to feed the kin who came to him hungry. To him, it represented his past. He'd had it since he was young, and it was a comforting, familiar thing to have around. It was pushed into the dark, smelly goo, and he watched it sink down into the mire. It wouldn't be fun finding another one of that size, that sturdiness, but it would be worth it he knew.

Once more there was cynicism, and snark and again he ignored it. There was more at stake than his pride. He didn't care what was said to him, about him, or thought of him. This was what he needed to do. At the warning, the reminder the thing would find him in the place of nightmares there was a soft "I know..." before he turned to go.

He wasn't looking forward to another nightmare of thick, suffocating mud but...he ignore the discomfort at the idea. The needs of the many, outweighed his the slight desire not to experience this again.

(600 words)

[imgright]https://f2.toyhou.se/file/f2-toyhou-se/ ... vdWkXR.png[/imgright]

BLACK – Trapped in the pool, they begin to sink, more and more until they are pulled beneath. They see the grinning skull of the guardian watching them.

She couldn't help but be a bit curious as to the situation, could she?

Merry was a bold kin. So too was she a smart kin, but bolder than she was smart. Long had her dream told her she had more to fear of boredom than mortality. It was no issue for her, then, to wade deep into the pool of muck. To follow the entity's gaze with her own, her head cocked a bit coyly to one side as she did.

"I don't belong to anyone," she replied, "but they say knowledge is power, after all. Enlighten me."

The stench was vile. Acrid and unpleasant. Like rot and death and soured fruit all at once. But Merry told herself she had smelled worse, had felt worse, had something to prove- and as her vision clouded, what she told herself was that she simply shook it off. Continued forward, deeper and deeper into the tar slick.

Past the rocks. Past what could have been corpses. Past what undoubtedly were corpses- she saw the distinct skull of a fox, a bird, tiny tailbones that might have been from a rat. Was that one the head plate of a Totoma? A dead one, or another undead creature like the one she was following? Well, what did it matter- this would only drive a wedge deeper and deeper into her mind if she didn't find out what secrets it held, and to Merry, that was unquestionably a fate worse than death.

...It was really only a matter of time before she was stuck in up to her knees, but she trudged on. Up to her knees, up to her rib-bones, up to her neck. Up to her mouth. She took a deep breath of that foul, death-scented air. And she kept walking. Deeper, deeper, deeper into the muck. The sting of it against her skin was like the sting of sunburn against her pale back when she was a filly. The skull that laughed at her as she pushed forward, deeper and deeper into the depths was the same as the skull of the Acha that hadn't made it to the swamp.

Its smile was so piercing, yet so enigmatic. Merry, or Mocking?

...

She awoke with a start.

The Offering

Merry had many trinkets and no mind to part with them.

At first the nightmares had almost been a game to her. They didn't bother her one bit in their horror. In fact, it was almost a relief to see something new, beyond her dancing dreams of ghosts and adventure. ...But it grew tiresome in time, not for its terror, but for its repetition. She knew that the dead kin in the swamp would not rise to drag her down. She knew that despite her trying, she could not free herself from the muck to look outside. She knew that the spine of the rat was in fact a squirrel, based on the tuft of fur she'd spotted nearby. ...She knew too much, and now it was all boring again.

She pored over her hoard of various niceties like that squirrel would pore over its winter stash. Her wolf pelt? ...No, too precious for the cold swamp winters. Besides, Keeper would be quite unhappy with her for giving it up if he ever found out. It was absolutely unbecoming of her to toss away a gift in such a fashion. An eggshell from one of her children? Certainly too cliche. Those had only been a part of her for a few weeks while she carried them.

So she pawed through her burgeoning collection for quite some time, before her hoof settled on something tiny.

...The moment she laid eyes on it, she knew it was what the creature wanted.

Her trip back to the tar slick was hurried, fervent. It was as if her legs were possessed with a will beyond her own, the same as they had been the moment she set her mind on coming to the swamp all those years ago. She seemed to make record time getting there- or perhaps she simply didn't notice how long it had taken to arrive from her last nest.

Without even thinking of it, she tossed the little piece of bone into the muck, and slowly watched it sink.

"...It is my original piece," she explained to the grinning skeleton, "from Fiend's game of werewolf. It told me that I was simply the prey." Her eyes narrowed, but a catlike smile appeared on her face. "It told me that my job was to hunt down evil as best I could. ...I wonder, should I have thrown that away to save Shatter Me?" The question was rhetorical. She didn't expect the skeletal kin to answer her, and of course it did not.

"This bone represents my innocence. That is what I have given you."

It didn't particularly matter to Merry, anymore. Knowledge was not given out to those more right or more wrong. If knowing would taint her mind forever, then she would accept it- because more than anything, she needed to know to be satisfied.

Judgment

"What in the Motherfather's name," questioned Fading Beauty, turning up his nose at the puddle of goo that now lapped at his mother's heels, "is that?"

"I don't know!" She chimed excitedly, swishing her tail back and forth the way a happy sand dog would. "I don't know, and no one else is really sure! Isn't it super cool, though? It's really sticky, and it can split apart! So I wonder if it's even alive? I mean, I've always wondered if the others are alive or dead, too. Oh yeah! Y'know, I got it when I-"

With a scoff, Beauty skittered a few paces away from Merry as she approached. "Yes, yes, mother... I'm sure the story is incredibly intriguing, and I'm sure everyone would love to hear it later. But could you please keep it at least a pond's length away from me? It reeks!"

...It seemed like her family was a bit less enthused about her new friend than she was.

[1013]

THE VISION

BLACK - Trapped in the pool, they begin to sink, more and more until they are pulled beneath. They see the grinning skull of the guardian watching them.

In Harmony stood several feet back from the creature, watching it intently. A couple of days before, Dawn and Dusk had flown up to the doe, chirping both excitedly and fearfully about the "kin" they had come across during while hunting for food. Harmony could barely understand what had riled up the two birds enough that they'd hurried back to her grove. Both creatures were "talking over each other" trying to chirp louder or more excitedly then the other in a hurry to explain what they'd seen.

Harmony was not sure what exactly she could "do" but Dusk and Dawn seemed very insistant that she come out to see the mysterious other kin.

Now there she was, her nose already curling at the smell that was wafting from the muck and mire. The "kin" was a strange creature indeed. They looked like they were made of mud that scales and bones had been hap hazardly stuck to. The mud stank and seemed to be on the verge of dripping off of the other "kin" constantly but instead sort of shone and undulated along the surface of it's "skin." She instantly understood why Dusk and Dawn had been purterbed.

The offer, hissed between mud and teeth, was unexpected. Set herself free? To be more? A familar feeling in the pit of her soul stirred, a slight pulling sensation in her stomach. It was no where near what she felt at the obelisk, but the sensation was the same. Drawing on the strength and courage built up, Harmony slowly approached the other's side.

The smell was unlike anything she'd ever experenced. She retched loudly and automatically. Swollowing hard, she tried to push the smell out of her nose with a violent snort and held her breath, cheeks puffed. But it was no good, even the air was thick with the stench. Her vision swam and darkened. She let out her breath, coughing and choaking from holding it so long but was quickly overwhelmed by the sheer smell and even taste of stink. The last thing she saw when her eyes swung up and into the back of her sockets was the other being looking down at her.

"...receive my boon." the words echoed as the world went dark.

Everything was black. Dark and black. The sky, the air, the ground, the water. All black. Harmony tried to sit up, but the black stuck fast to her fur and hair. Wincing, she tried to pull her face free, having fallen on her side when she fainted. The blackness was sticky and fluid and clung even more stubbronly to her then anything ever had. Well this was a fine mess. The doe kicked her free back leg, sticking her hoof into the "ground" hoping to get a firm foothold and would be able to maybe pull herself up. Instead she became even more stuck.

Hissing laughter slipped into her ears. She craned her head around, her only open eye catching sight of the grinning skull.

"This isn't the first time I've gotten stuck down." she said with resolve. "I'm going to get up, just you wait."

As if in answer to her challenge, the leg that had been free suddenly sunk up to her hip in the blackness. She had just processed this new development when her entire bottom half sank into the pond. She began to panic now. She slammed her only free leg left, her other foreleg into the "water" and struggled desperatly to push herself up. The stickness only swollowed up that last leg. Only her half of her face and chest was above the mire now.

The laughing continued. Harmony opened her mouth to do...something. Scream, cry, beg, curse, she couldn't pick one as her heart was hammering. Instead she began to hyperventilate. Her chest sank into the muck, now she was covered from the neck up. Harmony whimpered, feeling her head slowly sinking down.

"Ahh..ahh..." she cried softly as her ears and the back of her head went down. Her one eye was trained intenesly on the skull. Slowly, slowly, her sight darkened as the muck pulled her down. She tried to make sure her mouth and nose were above the "water" as long as she could. When her nose was enveloped, all she could hope for was a quick end.

THE OFFERING

In Harmony's whole body violently jerked awake. Her lungs gasped for air they thought would never fill with again. She scrambled up onto her hooves, her body still shaking and looking around wildly. Then the stench hit her again and this time she vomited, her body unable to cope with everything all at once.

Empty now, Harmony spat out the remains of her lunch and glanced over at the other, having caught sight of them between boughts of vomiting. It seemed quite pleased with what was happening. Wasn't it done with her yet?

An offering? This kin wanted MORE from her? She had half a mind to go over and "offer" them whatever was left in her stomach all over their face. As good as an idea it seemed like her in mind, her core murmured to just do what the creature wanted. She was angry, scared, nauseous and yet still, the pull to obey was stronger then her intial reaction for payback.

Fortunatly, she happened to have just such an item along with her. In the small rucksack she kept on her to fill with anything she or the family needed. Inside it was a small, white, round stone. It was slightly iredescent and completely smooth. It was a gift from long ago, back when she didn't know what she knew now and was innocent to the world. A colt had given it to her, confessing his feelings. She never did give him a answer, unsure how she felt at the time and years had blurred his face in her memory.

Oh well. That life path had veered in another direction ages ago and she really wasn't even sure why she kept the stone anymore other then it was pretty to look out. With an exhausted sigh, she kicked the stone into the pond. It made a soft "plop" noise as it hit the mud and quickly sank under it.

JUDGEMENT

"Happy now?" she snapped. The other seemed to smile even wider. They hissed out words that sounded vaguely threatening as they slowly waded into the pond. In Harmony watched them as they sank into the same mire that she had just wrenched herself from. Her body had slowly come back under her control. The shaking had stopped though the sick feeling in her stomach persisted and her head began to pound. Wanting to quit this place as quickly as possible, she started hobbling back towards her home.

When she arrived, the grove was almost silent. Most of the familars were either in the trees or circled around something, hackles rasied. Oh she was so not in the mood for this right now.

"What's got you all so upset? What happened while I was away?" she croaked through a sore, scratchy throat. All heads turned towards her. Leader, Mire, Aftermath, Sky, Nip, Last, Pride, Dash, Berry, Path and several other of the larger familars parted, many backing up while hissing and growling. In the middle of the circle was a blob, black as a moonless night but shimmered with colors like the stone she had thrown into the pond. It still stank, but it burbled in place and seemed to make no effort to attack any of the animals around her it or herself.

Harmony stared at the slime for a long time. It was so long in fact, several of her family members had slowly relaxed and were now watching her with curiosity and worry.

SIGH

"Welcome to the family."

rolling for custom chance

THE VISION

Will pursued the swamp's magic and, therefore, only stood to reason that he would seek the places where the world seemed to exist most thinly. He’d heard of the tar pits in their corner of the swamp, previously untouched by corruption. Word had spread gradually of strange events and kin which had no place existing that lingered there. It stirred Will’s curiosity, and once that was stirred, nothing could stop him from seeking the location to check it out himself.

He found the thing that one of the local kin had dubbed “The Harbinger” standing up to its knees in the tar, and at first, he had mistaken it for a creature claimed by the pits themselves, still propped up in their death pose. Instead, it moved and seemed to breathe, strolling through the thick, steaming substance without flinching. Unquestionably, something was at play here; the kin before him changed almost beyond all recognition.

This close to the pits, the smell consumed the entire world, stinging his eyes and forcing his breaths to leave a lingering tingle in his throat. It could not be good for him, but nor were a lot of things he did. Curiosity kept him bound, staring at the creature as though he might learn its origins simply by vision alone.

It turned to look at him and curled what must have passed as its lip at him, stating he was owned by someone else but that it could offer something more than what he presently had at his disposal.

It asked him to stand with it, and without hesitation or questioning, he did so, moving to stand close enough to the searing tar that he could fall in with a single poor step. But he was not afraid; Will rarely felt great depths of emotion, and fear was one of the least of them. His fears were abstract discomforts, the fear of not attaining his goals, and the fear of mortality.

His only real fear was his appearance, self-examination, and reflection, so he avoided involving himself in those things as much as he could.

He waited, hoping the figure would offer him more insight into what it asked, but the longer he waited, the more his lungs burned, and his breathing felt constricted. Despite this awareness that he was being overcome, Will did not turn away from the pool. This felt like a test, and with what he’d been offered and no doubt the creature’s ability to deliver on this offer, he intended to pass it.

Even as his body gave out and he lay down to stop himself from toppling into the tar, he did not seem all that concerned about his predicament.

--

Sinking. He was sinking into the tar by inches, his legs trapped and now his chest. Had he been thrown in?

The Harbinger stood above him, smiling, looking pleased with itself.

“HELP ME.” He called out. “HELP ME.”

But it did not move; it simply watched him.

The tar was up to his neck before long, and then his chin, panic finally starting to grip him. Death was one thing; a slow death suffocating in tar was another. It wouldn’t be quick, and it wouldn’t be pleasant; it was already too hot to endure.

He thrashed; he fought, but it only seemed to pull him down further. He needed help, but no one could hear him.

He tried anyway.

“STORYEND. BEEN!”

The thing still smiled at him, amused about something.

But no one came, and the dark smothered him before long.

THE OFFERING

When Will stirred awake, he felt horrendous, his sinuses still filled with the lingering taste of chemicals and his stomach roiling. He retched and pulled himself to his hooves again, far enough from the tar to breathe beneath a twisted and tortured tree.

It was night, but he didn’t know which night it was or if he’d been unconscious for days.

His throat was still raw from calling the names of his son, his daughter and his former partner, and he felt ashamed he’d been so afraid that he’d done it in the first place.

The Harbinger was nearby, and when it looked at him, he did not feel judged or forgiven, simply observed by something that barely felt mortal. It told him the first step had been taken and that the next step was to surrender something by throwing it into the tar, to surrender it to whatever this creature represented.

Will did not have much to give away, and it took him some time to decide what he had that he could give up. Magic was always tethered to essential things; its utilised totems always amplified it. Giving up something small and trifling would only hurt his chances. He had to give up something substantial for it to matter.

And so he returned home to his grove to retrieve something that would tie him to the pool with permanence.

Every night, he returned to drown in the pool, nightmares repeating in a cycle, reminding him that he owed the pool what it was due, and that the ritual was incomplete, and every night – though he swore he would not – he called out for the only two people he could ever rely upon. Two people who were gone from his life forever.

And it was his fault.

He looked over the last reminders he had of his first son and found that he could not discard them; to give up that part of his life was a leap too far, an ask too big even to consider.

What he settled upon instead was a sharpened stone, one he’d learned to grasp in his teeth and use with lethal effect. He did not need it any longer, which tied him to a weaker version of himself, one he needed to move on from.

Finally, he returned across half the swamp, his offering held in his teeth, and threw it into the tar.
He watched it sink, and he hoped it was enough.

JUDGEMENT

The Harbinger observed his work and turned to comment.

“You are bound now.” It said, and Will found himself thinking that it was good and that he wanted to be tied to something bigger, something darker anyway.

He wanted the kind of power that allowed the Harbinger to remain alive when it should be dead because he already lived on the edge of survival as it was.

He picked himself up, feeling sick and tired but determined to become something different and new, more than the rotting thing he was.

There was nothing more to do, and he left, uncertain what he’d signed up for.