The very next day, the group departed, leaving behind a substantial amount of Leviathan Marks for Rutherford. The man did not emerge from the basement to bid them farewell, but he emerged soon afterwards to claim the money. Jonathan had left the money as a sign of his gratitude to the man for not asking questions, and allowing them to use the tavern as a front for their operation. Now though, this city was useless to them.

Soon Miremount was receding into the distance, with Jonathan and the others able to move at full speed for once. With the map in hand, Jonathan plotted a course towards the outer reaches of Mire. The map reported the Heaps to be filled with natural treasures and opportunities, if one was powerful enough to glean them. Compared to Tartarus, where they were stymied by the lack of a map and the presence of the local hegemon, this seemed far safer and more efficient.

The Fetid Plains were largely empty save for a few cities and monsters. However, everything started to grow more dangerous and detailed the further one left the domain of the realm’s center.

A few hours later, they had reached the boundary between the Fetid Plains and the Rot-Trunk Copses. Rather than there being a gradual change, there was a sudden line where the Fetid Plains ended, and the Copses began. A forest sprawled across the land, but it was a forest that had gone without leaves or life for eons.

The trees varied widely in height, ranging from tiny saplings cut short at the beginning of their lives to true giants of the forest, stretching up for hundreds of feet. All of them were so old and dead that their wood looked more like stone than anything else. Even then, they were so closely packed that they had the same effect as foliage would have, occluding the light.

“Here we are,” Jonathan stated, looking up at the trees. “This is where Mire really begins.” Then he stepped into the forest, and vanished from sight.

Half an hour later, they had found one of the reference points marked on the map. The interior of the Copses was not entirely homogenous, as it appeared from the outside. An old empire had existed here, back when the realm was young and Slothari was weaker. Some of their ruins still existed, and promised to contain treasure. However, they were guarded by monsters of all kinds, who had made the old buildings their home.

“Where are all the monsters?” Hushar asked. “It’s like this entire place is abandoned.”

“It said on the map that most of the monsters live with their brethren, rather than roam. All sorts of creatures live here, but there is a predominance of undead and beasts.”

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“From the old empire, I assume?” Edgar asked.

“If you mean the undead, yes.”

“Let’s keep going,” Hushar said, already pushing into the undergrowth. “We’re on a deadline here.”

The first monster attack came an hour later. A trio of dark furred shapes dropped from a nearby tree, aiming for the heads of the party members. Jonathan reacted before the others, sending up a pulse of Void energy from his hands. It ate through the monsters, and killed them instantly.

As they dropped to the ground, Jonathan frowned. “What the hell are those things?”

They looked like monkeys, if monkeys came without faces, and only a massive mouth stretching across where their head would be. Gnarled limbs extended from their bodies, tipped with four inch long claws. Their bodies seemed to be created with the idea of hanging from a branch and then dropping on an unsuspecting passerby.

“Hell if I know,” Edgar replied. “What a disgusting creature.”

“I’ve seen worse in Tartarus. You’ve never felt true disgust until you come face to face with a Rot Leech.”

“Do I want to know what that is?” Jonathan asked.

“No, you do not.”

The group left the corpses behind to rot, heading deeper into the shaded treeline. The trees grew denser and taller the further they went, and began to incorporate more disturbing elements. Skulls and bones grew out of some of the trees, and many of them seemed to have patches of flesh replacing their bark in some places. A few of them even had large, toothy maws that gaped open. Jonathan could not tell whether they were simply strangely shaped bulbs, or whether they really were mouths. More of the monkeys came and went, their lives ending the blink of an eye. So far, Jonathan was disappointed in the strength of the denizens of the Rot-Trunk Copses.

Eventually, they broke out of the treeline, and found themselves in a massive clearing, dominated by a crumbling castle. Jonathan opened the map and found the structure quickly enough.

“Castle Angron, ancestral home of the Talsh family,” he read from the paper. “Lost to the undead in eons past.”

“I can see them already,” Edgar reported.

Jonathan followed his gaze and laid eyes upon a motley assortment of rotting corpses patrolling the castle in a twisted facsimile of life. There were monsters trying to milk the skeletons of cow-like beings that still roamed the mossy forest floor. On the battlements, silent sentinels waited for a disturbance that had not occurred in thousands of years. It was a disturbing, but ultimately depressing sight.

However, Jonathan could feel a presence behind the facade, something potent and above all else, hungry. Whatever was in there was strong and yearned for more strength, unlike the undead surrounding it.

“Is this worth checking out?” He asked.

“You mean the presence?” Hushar answered. “I would say so. Might be a good battle. We need to make up for the hours of wandering with some concrete levels.”