Naddarah,

You have spoken appreciatively of the mild winters and temperate summers of Viertaal. You have wondered why it is that the salt witches of our people do not wrest control of the weather from the Great Albatross’s wings and the gods’ will. Naddarah, read my words and remember well: the Veratocracy’s ways are not our own, and though we do not wish for battle with them, we still consider their ways a heresy and a blight on the world. If we were able to force them to stop, then we would do so without hesitation.

Their soft snowfalls in the high mountains come not from some special blessing, but from the rampant destruction they have visited upon all the most powerful of creatures that once dwelled in the Narvaatal Peaks. With the deaths of all the mightiest beasts, the Veratocracy’s High Speakers have become free to begin to twist the natural state of the world to better suit their desires. Though the magical beasts’ deaths are tragic, many think that some deaths of dangerous creatures is an acceptable price to pay.

That is not so. You have suffered from the effects of the Veratocracy’s hubris. The storms that lash the south are made ever the fiercer from the misdirected rage that should pound the Narvaatal Peaks. The quakes that punish our islands find their root in the pride of the Gran Verat. You may enjoy the luxuries of the Veratocracy, but do not forget that they refuse to pay the price of their actions, and instead force the suffering on the rest of the world.

-Letter from Marshall Inuksuk, son of Ilnak, to Naddarah, daughter of Annah.

[Varali POV]

The journey through the Forgotten Mires had been amazing. Varali had never been so far east, and though she’d long since learned how to travel through and respect the Martanimis as it surrounded her home, all those rules were cast aside under the expertise and power of the High Speakers and the High Lord Alniyh. Doluk, the massive ufudoluk tortoise, strode quickly and unbothered through every creature’s domain they came across. In the managed Martanimis Jungle, that didn’t mean much, since there were none of the immensely dangerous creatures allowed to live there. Thus, none of the mythical thunderbirds that supposedly rained lightning down on the unsuspecting, no behemoths tearing through city walls, or basilisks large enough to swallow a man in one bite.

In the Forgotten Mires, though, Doluk hadn’t been able to simply march headlong onward, and, in fact, his heavy frame supported on his stumpy legs could only keep from being stuck in the muck below the waters by constant, forceful magic. Instead of being capable of carrying the group onward with the same ease as always, Doluk had barely been able to plod along at a regular speed, much less the mile-devouring pace he had set before. After a mere hour of the reduced speed, though, Lierthan had stepped forward as a High Wavespeaker and with a brief whisper of his will and a single Phrase, he’d created an invisible raft that Doluk could stand on.

“How can we follow them through this?” Varali asked Lierthan. Though the leader of the High Speaker group didn’t talk much, his response had waxed long as he spoke about something he obviously was passionate for.

“Well, water carries vestiges of everything it touches. When a wolfstag wades through a river, it will leave minute evidence of its passage, such as hairs, the scent of their breath, and the warmth of their bodies. Eventually, the water can and will be reverted to a pure form through any number of various methods, such as evaporation, osmosis, and filtration, but it has not been too long since the keelish swarm passed through here, just a couple of weeks. Was it a mere dozens of the beasts, their mark would have faded by now. Since there are hundreds, though, the smell of the scales, the taste of their hunts, and the imprints of their feet remain.” The passion in Lierthan’s response begged for further questions, but the look in his eyes put her off of any further questioning.

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This invisible raft floated preternaturally quickly through the cramped confines of the spaces between the mangroves and burlraizes. To Varali’s surprise, though, they avoided the wide clearings that occasionally appeared, even though cutting through them would have saved them time maneuvering around the obstacles that plagued every step of the way. As they skirted around a fourth clearing, Varali couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Why don’t we go through there? Wouldn’t it be faster than this?”

Lierthan’s response had amazed her, as instead of once again waxing poetic about water, he instead silently redirected the raft towards the clearing. As he did so, Tariel loosened his bow and quickly nocked an arrow while High Lord Alniyh sighed. “They’re boring and annoying, nothing worth looking at.”

The question already asked, Varali began to ask more, “But what’s boring? Is there something–” Her next query was interrupted by a massive wave that threatened to toss Doluk away. Before the wave had fully passed, several massive limbs whipped out at the passengers on Doluk’s back. The pink, ropey flesh took Varali by surprise, but every one of the High Speakers was prepared for the ambush and fended off the nearest attempted attack. The would-be assailant croaked out a bellow that shook the water in its rage. With the initial assault repelled, the main body of the beast was revealed.

It… was a massive frog, for lack of a better way to describe it. Massive was too small of a word though, gargantuan, statuesque, and amazing better described it. Doluk stood 40 feet tall at the crest of his shell while still standing, but this… thing was at least 60 feet tall, and its cavernous mouth could fit a dozen men within without straining. Its body was decorated with hundreds of pure black eyes, and its third pair of legs swiped wildly in the humans’ direction as its set of tongues zoomed back towards the humans. Its flurry of tongues continued whipping at Doluk and his passengers, but Tariel, prepared for the attack, swiftly sent three arrows shrieking towards the beast. Each one crackled with electricity, and on impacting with the creature, patterns of coursing electricity danced over the moist skin.

Varali continued to watch, but her concentration was interrupted by Lierthan’s voice, saying, “A swamp leviathan. There’s almost always one in a clearing, since there’s precious few places they can live. Not too dangerous to us, but they slow us down.” Behind the unperturbed commander, Tariel continued to send arrow after arrow into the swamp leviathan’s body, but it refused to slow with the comparatively small amount of voltage dancing across and through its body. Strangely, the intensity of the shocks that Tariel was administering through his arrows wasn’t reducing at all, but instead continued to grow and grow.

Arrow after arrow sunk deep into the mucus-coated skin, and the electricity continued to mount in fury, the bright ripples of light jolting through the waters surrounding the swamp leviathan. After five minutes had passed and the swamp leviathan began to lose steam from continually having its attacks rebuffed while being attacked, it began to retreat. High Lord Alniyh, though, commanded Skyr with a single word, “Kill.” The strange small squirrel obligingly sent a thick branch of electricity surging forward, and when the pillar crashed into the leviathan, the sounds of sizzling flesh and shrieks of pain filled the air.

The beast dispatched, the rest of the group put their weapons away and continued forward, though Doluk extended his neck for a couple quick bites of the neglected beast. The waste bothered Varali, though she said nothing, having, at least for now, learned her lesson regarding asking questions. The casual slaughter and disregard for using its body was… something that felt gross to Varali, but again, she had learned not to ask questions now.

—-----

Three days later, they exited the Forgotten Mires and entered the lowlands surrounding the Tuurlon Mountains. The keelish’s tracks were obvious, and fresh, though the fact that they had come this far and continued fleeing had the professional soldiers concerned.

“They’re almost to the Wilds,” Tariel explained, his voice serious and a bit heavy. Varali didn’t need any further explanation, and she could feel her anxiety rising at the possibility of the scaled bastards’ escape.

Through the Tuurlons they followed the keelish’s tracks until they found what remained of the old frontlines against the Moonchildren. Before Varali could see anything, Lierthan looked up sharply, his face a mask of rage.

“What did they do here?”