Two of Shdustu’s three great rivers, the Shdulus and Shgud, flow south and empty into the great salt sea called Udultu that lies at the southern boundary of the region. Much of this sea is bounded by blasted desert or forbidding mountains, and it has no outlet save the depths and the sky. However, along the northern coast the arriving rivers spread out widely across the steppe and their flow filters out through vast marshlands. This region, where water is abundant, is unique in Shdustu and serves as the homeland of the Rutar. It hosts a flora and fauna found nowhere else and provides a strange backdrop compared to other environs.
Water carried by the rivers to this point is filled with silt, grass, and leaves from the riverside forests. The land here is muck-filled, choked with vegetation, and standing water lingers amid the reeds for most of the year. Marshes extend across vast distances. In many places it is possible to walk for days without reaching true solid ground. The reed growth is truly impressive, and they can reach twice the height of a tall man while at the same time growing sufficiently thick that it can become impossible to see another person walking less than a spear-length away. In slightly raised places where enough earth has accumulated to produce raised hummocks, there are shrub thickets and tight tree circles. Aspen, birch, and willow are the predominant forms. Such dense greenery is broadly foreign to Shdustu. Though the vast flats filled with nothing but brown mud are thoroughly familiar. Strange flowers and herbs grow in both waterlogged areas and elevated earth, and many cling to fallen logs for purchase. A significant number of these plants are highly valued in the apothecary’s craft, especially numerous varieties of iris. These flowers are conspicuous, erupting brilliantly into many vibrant bright colors.
Animal life is abundant in this region, which offers considerable shelter and copious forage. The marshes are a stronghold of wild boar, which are elsewhere rare in Shdustu. Deer are also found amid the reeds, though they are less common. Boar presence is easily noted by the muddy wallows they dig out when feeding, and they may move about in great numbers. These boars are light gray in color and are generally rather small in size compared to their kin in the Core Provinces. Some older males can grow quite large, however, and these aggressive creatures represent a threat to travelers in the area. Boar meat is a common component of the Rutar diet, though I found it had a rather unsatisfying flavor, offering a greasy taste compared to the flesh of raised hogs.
Other creatures are also numerous. The marsh hosts countless rodents and their hunters. This includes various weasels and the common fox, but also cats that have escaped the custody of their keepers and chosen a new life as hunters in the wild. Mostly black-haired, these are active at night and are formidable hunters. The marshes are well known for the presence of beaver and otter, animals deeply comfortable in such watery environs. Beavers fell trees and build dams, changing the flow of water throughout the marshlands constantly, a most curious trait in such a small animal. Many of the marsh creatures are highly valued for their furs, especially by the Rutar who rely heavily on their resistance to water damage, and despite rules regarding how many may be trapped their numbers have fallen considerably.
Birds are the truly dominant animals of the marshes. These include the readily expected waterfowl, especially geese, which gather in flocks measured in tens or perhaps hundreds of thousands during their yearly flights north and south with the seasons. The Rutar harvest them extensively both for meat, which is filling if gamey, and feathers, which are used in the production of nets, pillows, and arrow fletching. Countless smaller birds also pass through or live amid the swamps, nesting either within the reeds or in the waterlogged remains of dead trees. Waders and shorebirds are also abundant, but they are furtive and avoid humans. Of the small birds, the most noteworthy are the kingfishers. These impressive diving hunters are highly valued for their blue and green metallic feathers, which are used in the decoration of scarves. The Rutar forbid trade in these birds to outsiders.
As expected, the marshlands host innumerable fish and a wide range of other water-dwelling creatures including turtles, prawns, shrimps, and endless frogs. During spring nights, and especially when it rains, the croaking becomes nearly deafening. Standing water also spawns insects in great flying swarms. This is among the region’s greatest hazards, dangerous to everything despite the efforts of birds and bats to reduce their number. The Rutar rely upon specialized scents and smoky fires to ward off these pests, but it is nevertheless a source of great discomfort and very real danger. The Kharal are noted to avoid the swamps at any time of year these swarms abound. In the late summer, at their height, they can bleed a horse to death in days, a wretched, bloody fate to observe.
In general, the experience of the swamps is one of a vast, endless wall of greenery. Only the occasional raised mound hosting shrubs and trees or those patches of open water with sufficient depth to prevent reed growth stand apart. Birds that consume the shoots in the spring are also essential to keeping water open. The wall of reeds is, in some sense, an illusion, and tiny shifts can be found from one step to the next, however, these patterns are governed by the motions of water, not dirt or stone, and require specialized skills to read. The Rutar spend their whole lives learning these signs. Without their assistance it is very easy for outsiders to end up hopelessly lost. I found all efforts to make maps of this region absurdly difficult and frustratingly transient. The rivers and streams shift every year, so any attempt to draw out the paths of the watercourses lies doomed to variance.
We arrived in the swamps in winter, which changes their character somewhat. Southern Shdustu, though warmer than the north, remains quite cold during those months. The continual flow of the great rivers through the muck and the sheltering presence of the reed beds, which block the chill wind, means that, while the surface of many streams and large ponds freezes thoroughly, the ice in many areas is weak and may lack the strength to support a human foot. This is very dangerous, as a plunge into the freezing water chills the body to the bone and can easily kill if immediate warmth is not secured. Like everywhere else in Shdustu, winter brings stillness and quiet. Danger lurks beneath this deceptive calm.
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Mystic creatures live in the marshes, but their numbers are few as in this compacted region contact with the Rutar is unavoidable, and they rarely prevail. This long legacy of conflict explains the absence of frog-like monsters found in the Great Gorge. They feature heavily in scenes of Rutar art, often of great clashes, but none have been seen alive in centuries. Giant, red-furred boars and immense water-dwelling serpents capable of wrapping about these bulky beasts and crushing their necks are better documented, but they too have been hunted until very rare. Massive turtles the size of oxen are known to lair in the mud of some of the larger pools. I saw the shell of one of these creatures, mounted on a post outside a Rutar village, but did not witness one in motion for they come to the surface seldom.
Strange creatures known as swamp scramblers, giant insect spawn that resembled centipedes the size of a large fox, are the most common mystic beast in the swamps. They are most often found preying on waterfowl in the larger ponds. It is claimed that they were created long ago by a wizard who hoped to starve the Rutar from this land. They are killed on sight for this reason, but they are swift, evasive in the thick reeds, and breed rapidly. I saw one of these many-legged monsters do battle with a black cat at the edge of the firelight one night. This was a most ferocious clash that left both participants severely injured before they slunk away into the reeds.
This southern region hosts many well-known stories regarding banshees, the tormented beings created by foulest wizardry from doomed women as a punishment or to transform them into instruments of vengeance. However, all such stories were old, as it seems the current members of the Obsidian Order lack either the power or will to create such tragic beings. Most of the stories I heard had been composed at least a century in the past and related even earlier events.
Entry into the swamps is surprisingly abrupt, if following the course of the rivers. The valleys swiftly flatten, the channel widens, then splits, and reeds rise up on all sides. It is somewhat more gradual on the open steppe, as the marshes are confined to a narrow band near the edge of the salt sea. This is notable enough that travelers sometimes smell that scent on the air before seeing the reeds. Without water from the rivers, the border is remarkably stark, with the swamps ceasing almost at once after reaching a point where water from the sea no longer suffuses the ground. In some places the marshes are sufficiently compressed that a rider standing on the back of a camel can see the open water of the sea while standing beyond the edge of the reeds.
This land is generally wild and unclaimed. The Rutar cultivate vegetables, but they do so in raised gardens that leave the marsh untouched. Shdustu does not possess sufficient manpower and engineering knowledge to engage in the sort of grand efforts of flood control, drainage, and canal building found in portions of the Sanid Empire with a similar character. Nor do the Rutar desire such manipulations, and they have repeatedly contested incursions by the Nikkad into the southern reaches of the river and torn apart terraces intended to convert the valleys to cultivation. Though this limits their livelihood, it also prevents their subjugation at the hands of considerably more numerous neighbors.
Regarding the salt sea, I will record its traits in due course, but it is useful to make some mention of the salt itself. Though the marshes are formed by water that traces all the way back to the glaciers of the mountains far to the north, in the bordering mudflats where the sea laps across the land the marsh waters turn brackish. This is not sufficient to overwhelm the omnipresent reeds, but strangely shaped sedges grow along the saltiest channels. Salt production using pools is a key industry in this region, and the scent of salt spray is common on the wind even though the sea is not an ocean. The presence of this salt seems to impact the soil in some manner, as the ground here does not compress together properly for rammed earth construction, though perhaps this is a property of retained moisture. Rain is no more common here than elsewhere in Shdustu, but the land is still damp.
In all, this is a murky, miserable place lacking glamour or much reason to visit unless seeking salt, boar flesh, or rare wild herbs. Trying to extract a living from such a landscape is very difficult, and many similar marshlands are left empty across the face of the world, occupied only by bandits and cultists who forge a living by predation upon their neighbors rather than reliance upon the land itself. That the Rutar should exist at all is somewhat unexpected, but they have a lengthy legacy. This land does, thankfully, present the possibility of refuge, and it was this hope that drove Lady Indili and I south along the marshy path. Few others would take this approach, preferring the illusion of safety of Nikkad settlements or the yurts of the Kharal. In ordinary times this is sensible, for the marshlands are forbidding and the reputation of the Rutar is not one of warm welcome. Given the choice, I would have preferred to endure the winter in a yurt, it was only that the Khagan hunted for my blood that prevented this. Neither Kharal nor Nikkad are welcome in the marshlands, all trade, such as the salt industry, is handled by foreigners, and that too is restricted. We saw no caravans during our approach, and even though it was late in the year I would have expected at least some moving north to Snushgud. Very few of the many merchants I have spoken to throughout Shdustu had ever made the journey south to the salt sea. This is a curious thing, for lands such as this are also found in the southern provinces of the Sanid Empire, making them surprisingly familiar in physical form.
For all that we traveled this path out of need, with the steppe closed to us, and any chance of return home relied upon taking one of the rare trade ships that ply the salt sea, it was a useful place to visit. The swamps hide numerous ancient mysteries and are of considerable interest to those examining Shdustu from without. The Sanid Empire should not make the mistake of ignoring this place simply because it is coated in muck.