Quoted By:
You follow the winding river of refuse deeper into the dingy depths–the metallic gantry feeling downright <span class="mu-i">pristine</span> compared to the slog you had back in Crossroads! But just when you’re starting to feel at ease, you’re overwhelmed by a thick curtain of humidity–one that bathes your face in what you really, <span class="mu-i">REALLY</span> hope isn’t evaporated waste…
But you know better by now.
It takes you a moment to realize you might be wrong. The deeper you trek into the humid hollows the more the foul, rancid aroma of excrement and filth is beaten back by something else:
Something sweet, but <span class="mu-i">off</span>... like a basket of rotting leaves… or a barrel of fermented apples.
The rot’s still there, you realize as the narrow passage opens up over a vast expanse where the sound of crashing ‘water’ rings in your ears, but it’s a different bouquet of smells–one that even puts the mages on-edge!
“Wait.” Oti barks, not that you needed a reason to. Standing in statuesque silence over the fetid waterfall, the sorcerer remains in quiet contemplation as you listen to the filth roar and splash below while Obber anxiously dances back and forth on his unseen heels…
“Zetsut?”
The word is unfamiliar to you as it leaves Toppel’s lips, but you can’t ignore how it comes out uncertain… and afraid.
You’ve heard of Zetsi–Volka’s Lamplighter buddy Pesli was one of them, wasn’t he? Old guy. That bitch Vuuse said he used to be a killer? Reminded you of that talking tree in those commercials begging you to recycle…
“Could be an old colony.” Oti answers with the usual frown in his tone, “But no need to take any chances.” His bulbous eyes shift over to his fellow spellcaster. “Your brother. Send him ahead.”
“Right.” Toppel turns to her pet Sanguiphage and spurs him forward with a few quick snaps of her claw! Scuttling down the wall like a lizard, Obber leaves you to wait with the witch and wizard as he scouts ahead…
So, you begin, Zetsut–
“Peculiar things.” Toppel begins as she cocks her head to the side, “Not quite dead, not quite alive either. Tricky to detect.”
“They’re the end of the Zetsi life cycle, to put it simply.” Oti adds with a shrug of his unseen shoulders. “Rain falls, snow melts, Zetsi become Zetsut. A natural inevitability, really.”
And let me guess, you groan as you struggle to make out any shapes or eyes below, they’re dangerous? Both mages answer with a noncommittal grunt.
“They <span class="mu-i">can</span>.” Toppel nods as she adjusts whatever it is she’s wearing, “Some of them still have their heads on straight, but others can be, well…” She shudders. “A bit <span class="mu-i">spore-happy</span>.”
THAT gets your attention! They have <span class="mu-i">spo-</span>
>CONTD.
