Moving southeast from Capital City the beautiful green pastures that made up much of the land would be replaced with thick marshes spreading out to consume much of the southern plains. Within this damp environment lay a hazardous and highly toxic swamp featuring deep trenches of thick, muddy water that surrounded slime covered trees jutting out from the murk. Poisonous vegetation surrounded the sunken water meadow while venomous animals and monsters consumed the plants in turn crafting an ecosystem that was more waste dump than nature preserve. Despite the harsh conditions, the human dominant Gentile kingdom did what it always did and moved in anyway establishing the thriving metropolis that was Bogland. A settlement that was as interesting as it was creatively named, what humans lacked in snappy titles they made up for in stubborn refusal to bend to their environment.
The ramshackle town was littered with numerous homes and businesses floating a short distance from the toxic waters held aloft by stilts and pikes. The populace was connected by a series of docks, bridges and walkways that, no matter the season, always seemed barely a foot from the waters below. Some residents referred to their home as the sinking province given how many homes fell beneath the waters due to eroding beams or monster attacks. As such, tourism had always been a sore spot for the people of Bogland and you would be hard pressed to find any multi-storey hotels not half sunk beneath the waves, forgotten and left to rot. The food was also to die for, a statement that was less metaphor and more cautionary tale. The residents had developed a well-adjusted diet from their surrounding fauna however visitors would find the ‘gator meat special’ gamey, bland and still wriggling. It was home for many however and they adapted, learning the tricks of the land and using it to their advantage.
Alchemists, apothecaries, herbalists and survivalists were abundant in the not so forgiving environment and over the years several had achieved mastery as well as aspects of their respective field. The swamp land was acclaimed to be the origin of the first ever Poison aspect user however this was a hotly debated topic as several other equally hazardous locals claimed the same. After avoiding the bubbling brooks, low hanging trees, “sleeping” crocs and Old Greta’s meat pie, the most important advice any newcomers were given was don’t ask about the aspect of Poison.
Although the people learned to adapt to their home and extract every resource and advantage they could there was no accounting for monsters. Synthesizing elixirs and mystical potions from the many venomous creatures was the towns primary export and source of income but tracking, eliminating and safely hauling enough beasts to meet a quota was never as simple as it sounded. Especially when the delicate ecosystem was upset at the arrival of an invasive species. The Stagnatoise was, as most monsters were, a large variant of its name’s sake the tortoise. As single Stagnatoise measured two metres in circumference when measuring the outer protective shell. With their head and legs exposed that size could almost double for especially old Stagnatoise and especially old was the operative word for these reptiles. It was a joke amongst monster researchers that Stagnatoise were born fully grown and wrinkled as no hatchling had yet been found. It was almost impossible to raise the creatures in captivity given they would undoubtedly live longer than their tamer, the tamers children, grandchildren and so on. Thus, it was unlikely any researcher would be able to monitor and report on Stagnatoise mating habits, a loss to the scientific community that was felt the world over.
Being designated a field observer for the reptile monsters was considered a punishment or form of torture to the many monster research groups employed by their nation’s government. A standard Stagnatoise moved at a pace so outstandingly slow that if it were in a foot race against a rabbit the mammal would have to be dead, buried and reincarnated several times over for the tortoise to even make it off the starting line. A lucky field researcher had been able to report on a Stagnatoise at rest and found it took the creature more than a minute to blink one eye. Given their slow nature the monster in question could often go unnoticed for years sleeping in its shell appearing as nothing more than a boring boulder. That was until feeding season approached and the Stagnatoise used all the accumulated mana within its body to accelerate to just slower than a drowning fish on land.
Once every thirty years a Stagnatoise would emerge from its shell, consume all the greenery that had grown around it and then return to restful slumber. Like a certain monkey, they were categorized as a passive monster species and generally left to their own devices. Some even considered them good for the environment as miniature biospheres would form around the reptile after death allowing critters to feed on the carcass and using its leftover shell as protection from the elements. When they moved in packs however that became an entirely different story as Bogland found itself the unfortunate host to a whole creep of Stagnatoise all synchronized to awake at the same time.
The people of Bogland suffered the weeks long feeding frenzy once already, the reptiles slowly ate away everything even remotely green turning the living breathing swamp woodland into a barren waste forcing the native species out of their home and into danger. This flurry of activity brought predators which brought monsters and ultimately led to the swamp people having to fend off a tidal wave of beasts hopped up or seizing on hallucinogens and poisons. As a hardy people they fought off the first wave with little to no casualties, but the tortoise brigade moved ever closer, and the next wave would be significantly worse. With such a long gap between attacks many inhabitants ignored the danger believing the wave wouldn’t be as bad as their elders protested. Thankfully, it was an election year with the up-and-coming mayor building his campaign on eradicating the Stagnatoise menace for not just the people of Bogland but their children and their children’s children. He won in a landslide victory and like all politicians reneged on his campaign promises immediately after taking office, opting instead for the cheapest option available. Enter a pair of newly inaugurated Adventurers ready for their first contract. The mayor posted the eradication request himself and negotiated a pittance of a reward given the monsters low danger level. Still a job was a job and neither monster hunter could turn their nose up at a contract quite literally handed to them.
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On a hot summers day, that really hiked up the pungent stench in the air, a Stagnatoise began the slow and back breaking effort of waking up for the first time in three decades. It shifted its shell disrupting a bird’s nest and forcing the bothered avian to flee. The reptile didn’t or couldn’t notice as its mind was still asleep while the body moved on instinct, surging mana through the joints and forcing the heavy shell off the ground. Earth broke and crumbled off the half sunken carapace as it slowly rose coming a foot off the ground then dipping again. Thirty years of rest and mana absorption would make a mage the envy of his pointy hatted colleagues. For the Stagnatoise, it was the equivalent to a shot of decaf. Over the course of an hour, it would slowly shake dirt and vines off its shell surfacing one leg then another until it appeared as a quadrupedal boulder. Finally, the head would emerge towering, long and tall like a snake with a jaw that could snap steel with barely any effort. The tortoise silently yawned and tasted fresh air on its tongue for the first time in ages, the fringe of its mind finally being roused.
Still in this half sleeping transition, the monster would immediately begin eating whatever vegetation it could find. Conveniently there was a vine that stretched over head with a selection of delectable looking leaves hanging at just the right height. The Stagnatoise immediately dug into the offered meal, its mind unable to receive the odd signals its senses were picking up. Something about the vine prickled at its skin yet it did not cease enjoying its meal. Even if the Stagnatoise could have registered the low hanging vines dark colouration or sinister emanations it would not have been able to react in any meaningful way. Nor did it react to the knife that dragged across its exposed neck. The first and last thought the Stagnatoise had in thirty years could be summarized as ‘What a succulent meal! Ow!’.
Valerie leapt out of the way of the gargantuan tortoise’s neck and head falling to the ground, a wet splosh in place of any death cry as the light left the slow creature’s eyes.
“Haaaaaaaah, another one bites the dust. What a thrill…”
The huntress complained, annoyance and disappointment abound at the lacklustre hunt. They found the collection of buried shells earlier that morning and waited hours for any to make a move with little success. According to a Bogland nature expert, today was the day the Stagnatoise were due to awaken and enact the slowest extinction event in history. Unlike a certain shadow user, the tortoise had excellent, near perfect, time keeping and would always wake exactly thirty years, three months, three weeks, three days and two and half hours after hibernating. Ofcourse even if a Stagnatoise shrunk into their shell there was no guarantee they would fall asleep immediately, the monster Valerie just slayed a perfect example. Thirty years ago, it forced itself to remain awake after a perfect idea for a play about a cucumber and a pheasant flashed into its mind. The monster in question had absolutely no clue what either was nor any ability to convey such a genius and heart wrenching story. It was simply another instance of the universe converging to enlighten a living being with clarity and innovation not unlike a god’s vision. Unlike the prophecy handed down from the divine, this eureka moment did not always and in fact very rarely had anything to do with the person, monster, self-aware houseplant or still forming gemstone that received it. It was simply a quirk of consciousness that sometimes a genius, benign or simply ridiculous thought would enter an individual mind at the most random of moments. Albert used this fact of reality to try and help explain Valerie’s own aspect of the hunt and how it transferred information into her mind upon seeing a new monster.
Part of the registration process for Adventurers involved revealing if they had access to at least one aspect to the guild and have it proven by an on hand official. Some adventurers liked to keep their tricks hidden either for safety purposes or more often to appear mysterious. The guild enacted this rule to force some cooperation from would be adventurers and curtail those unwilling to respect authority. It also had the added benefit of helping young adventurers form cohesive teams based on each members strengths and weaknesses. Given the outrageously low chance for obtaining an aspect it rarely played the defining role in a party but was still crucial information to have. Margaretta had actually been surprised to learn both Valerie and Samantha had two aspects each, a feat that was not unheard of but exceedingly rare especially for the girls ages. Under Albert’s guidance, Samantha revealed her aspect of the chain and Valerie of the hunt. The aspect of shadows incredibly rare status would mean that if it was ever revealed the owner may be hounded by researchers looking to make their mark by releasing a paper on the unknown power. It was lucky neither girl understood the idea of hypocrisy as Albert would have certainly gotten some dirty looks himself.
The librarian also explained those of the ‘edgy’ variety would see Samantha as either a rival to their dark and mysterious ways or worse an inspiration. Valerie on the other hand was in the complete opposite situation; the aspect of the hunt was not uncommon but still very valuable for beginner and veteran adventurers. Revealing she had such a power would only make the girl more popular for any future endeavours or teams she forms. Having a walking, if inconsistent, monster encyclopaedia was worth its weight in gold for adventurers. Valerie mused on the prestigious position she held as she wiped tortoise viscera of her blade.
“Valuable my left foot.”
She said to no one in particular. A highly respected and sought after skill yet here she was, knee deep in mud killing a bunch of rooted in place reptiles. Her aspect had been helpful telling her the Stagnatoise shell was basically impenetrable to conventional weaponry while the underbelly, legs and neck were much weaker. If it had been any other day that would have been an interesting if useless fact, today however it was a major time saver. The plan was simple and fool proof, since morning the pair had gathered bundles of branches with leaves still attached, Samantha would then string up a series of easily reachable chains covered in the bait and the pair would watch for any takers to have a bite. When a tortoise woke up and stuck its head out, Valerie would either rush in to cut its jugular or toss her knife. She expected the monsters to all wake at about the same time and there to be a flurry of motion as she struck down one reptile after the other. So far though they had finished off a handful with more than a half hour between kills.
“How many does that make?”
Samantha asked in a straining voice while she sat crossed legged at the base of a tree. A series of chains kept her off the ground as she concentrated, fingers against her temple in a failing effort to stave off a headache. Even if she possessed a generous pool of mana, maintaining so many chains for an extended period was bound to sap away at her strength. Valerie felt bad for her friend staying in one place for hours and forced to concentrate on maintaining her shadowy chains. Then again, she was completely dry and hadn’t a speck of dirt on her nice filthy cloak. She loudly counted off the four Stagnatoise carcasses already taken care of including her latest kill. She then turned to the sea of similar, completely still, barely awake shells that awaited them.
“Not enough…”
It was a good thing the two monster hunters were only in their teens as it meant by the time they were done they would only be a ripe ninety years old. Tossing the thought away, Valerie walked off to another shaking shell to begin the agonizingly slow execution once again. The life of an Adventurer indeed.