Dawn crept over the swamp like a tattered shroud, the low fog twisting through the muck as if the air itself had soured overnight. Renn Tork hunched on a rotten log, the damp creak of the wood echoing under his weight while the stench of sulfur and decayed flesh stung his nostrils. His busted boots sank ankle-deep into the mire, and the scratch on his leg throbbed like a rusty nail had lodged itself there, though the pain was a distant hum compared to the exhaustion weighing down his bones. Across from him, in a murky puddle glinting green under the faint glow of bioluminescent mushrooms, the Shadowtoad watched with those bulging eyes that seemed to judge him without a word. Her skin, once dull and warty, now shimmered with a rough sheen, like a river-polished stone, and her legs, longer and more muscled, flexed with every twitch. Renn scratched his scruffy beard, dried mud caked on his face like an old scab, and thought: This swamp’s a living sewer, the nastiest I’ve ever cleaned. Nobody would touch it—said it was a deathtrap—but I came for a few coins… and ended up with her.
“Hey, venomous croaker,” he said, his hoarse voice slicing through the damp stillness of the morning, “you look less like a squashed toad after st night. What the hell happened to you?” He eyed her up and down, squinting as if he could puzzle her out by sheer stubbornness. The fight with the giant rat still buzzed in his head: the cw that knocked him down, her venom sizzling against the beast’s hide, the mud that nearly swallowed him whole. She’d pulled him out of that mess, even if she’d spat insults the entire time.
The Shadowtoad let out a dry croak, a sound sharp as a chipped bde, and leaped from the puddle with a grace that caught him off guard, nding on a gnarled root beside him. “I’m still a queen compared to you, filthy scavenger!” she shot back, crossing her scrawny arms with an arrogance that outstripped her size. “And it’s not thanks to your junky little book, clumsy oaf. Something in this cesspool gave me a boost, so don’t get any big ideas.”
Renn frowned, leaning toward her with a grunt that sounded more tired than menacing. “What’re you yapping about, you puffed-up toad? The book brought you here,” he said, pulling the soggy tome from his sack with fingers trembling from the chill. The sticky pages flopped open with a wet pp, and he jabbed at a line with a grimy finger: “‘Pet its head.’ That’s what I did, and look at you now.” He stared at her with a mix of pride and suspicion, like the book was a trophy he didn’t quite know how to wield.
She let out a cackle that sounded like the swamp itself was mocking him, a low echo bouncing through the mist. “Keep living in your fantasies, bargain-bin Lord!” she croaked, hopping closer to jab a webbed finger into his chest. “It’s not your pathetic book—it’s this pce! Check this out.” She flexed her long legs and sprang into the air, nding with a spt that sprayed mud across his boots. “I feel alive, you clumsy fool! My legs hum like I could leap to the clouds, my venom burns like liquid fire now. It’s not you, scavenger—it’s this hellhole swamp.”
Renn blinked, wiping the mud from his face with a sleeve already bcker than the mire. “Alive?” he muttered, scratching his head with a hand that left a brown streak in his tangled hair. “Well, damn, that expins how you fried that rat st night.” He squinted at her again, sizing her up. “But if it’s not the book, what gave you that kick? And why don’t I feel a damn thing different?” His voice carried a hint of jealousy he couldn’t quite bury, though he tried.
The Shadowtoad croaked again, a sound that was half taunt, half dare, and stood tall as if the mud were her royal dais. “Because I’m a marvel, you scrawny wreck!” she said, thumping her chest with a webbed hand that made a wet smack. “You’re still a weakling with a core that looks like trampled dung! Look at this.” She leaped in a wide arc, her long legs slicing the air with a speed that left him gaping, and nded with a plop that spttered mud on his face again. “Faster, stronger, better in every way! This swamp handed me a gift, not you or your soggy pamphlet.”
Renn grunted, kicking a puddle that spshed near her, but a dry chuckle escaped him, rough as a cough. “Sure, you puffed-up croaker, keep bragging!” he shot back, pointing at her with a trembling finger. “If you’re so marvelous, why’re you still stuck here with me in this muckhole, huh?” But before she could fire back with another sharp croak, the busted core around his neck buzzed again, a shiver crawling up his spine like something alive had stirred inside it. The mental screen fred before his eyes, bright and shaky in the fog, and the words hit him like a sp:
[Lord: Renn Tork. Level 2. HP: 90/100. Strength 6, Agility 11, Endurance 17, Dirty Magic 10. Resources: 70 Toxic Mud]
[Troop: Shadowtoad (Puddle, Level 2). Strength 8, Agility 15, Endurance 12, Venom 10]
“What the—!” Renn yelped, stumbling back so fast he nded ass-first in the mud with a spsh that sprayed everywhere. His eyes widened, darting between the screen’s lines as muck dripped down his back. “Strength 6, Agility 11… I went up a bit? And you, venomous toad—Strength 8, Venom 10? You’re tougher than me!” He muttered, stunned: “What does this even mean? The chat’s all about griffins and dragons, never saw numbers like these.” He gaped at her, then back at the screen. “Was it that rat st night? Or you?”
The Shadowtoad hopped closer, her glossy skin fshing like a grimy gem in the mist, and let out a ugh that dripped with scorn. “Because I’m a marvel, you clumsy oaf!” she croaked, shoving him with a webbed hand that made him wobble. “Look at me, weakling! I climbed higher than you ‘cause I’m a queen and you’re still a wreck with busted boots. What’d you do? Spsh water like a lost kid? I torched that rat with my venom!” She flexed her long legs again and sprang into the air, nding with a plop that spttered mud on his face for the third time.
Renn wiped it off with a sleeve that was past saving, grunting as the muck slid down his neck. “Yeah, keep showing off, you puffed-up toad!” he snapped, his voice thick with sarcasm as he hauled himself up with a creak of joints. “I hit Level 2, you know—says so right here. But you… Agility 15, Venom 10—what the hell do you do with that? Hop around like a lunatic and poison everything?” He squinted at the screen, frowning like it was a riddle he couldn’t crack. “Strength 6, Dirty Magic 10… what’s this for? Smelling worse, like you cim?”
The Shadowtoad gred at him, her bulging eyes glinting with mockery, and croaked with a tone that was pure venom distilled. “For nothing useful, scrawny wreck!” she said, hopping around him in swift circles that made him dizzy. “My stats are for ruling, yours are for scraping dung! Check this out.” She spat a small burst of venom that hit a nearby root, sizzling through it with a ssss that filled the air with a sharp, acrid stench. “My venom’s acid now, clumsy! And you? You’re still a weakling with a core that’s a lump of dried crap!” She stood tall, strutting like the swamp was her royal court.
Renn grunted, kicking another puddle that spshed close to her, and let out a raspy ugh that echoed in the fog. “Brag all you want, venomous croaker!” he said, pointing at her with a finger shaky from fatigue. “I leveled up from that rat, and you… hell, you’re tougher than me, I’ll give you that.” He scratched his head, mud dripping down his beard like a brown waterfall. “But I don’t get what these stats mean. The chat never talks about numbers—just Lords showing off their critters.” He gnced at the screen again, muttering: “Level 2 and I’m still a mess? What am I if you’re the queen?”
She hopped beside him, croaking with a mix of taunt and challenge. “A dung-picking wreck with a toy core!” she replied, nudging him with a webbed hand that made him sway. “I’m the queen here, scrawny! My legs buzz, my venom burns—I’m more than you in every way!” Renn squinted at her, grunting: “Sure, you puffed-up toad, keep crowing. But if you’re such a queen, why don’t you ditch this swamp from hell?”
The Shadowtoad stared at him, her eyes gleaming with a mix of fury and cold calcution, and croaked: “Because this muckhole’s all I’ve got now, clumsy! And you’re the only fool who dragged me out of nothing.” Before Renn could reply, the screen flickered again: [Mission: Collect 10 Toxic Mud. Reward: 5 Mud]. He grunted, kicking the rotten log until it sank deeper into the mire. “Collecting—that I can handle,” he muttered, eyeing the Shadowtoad with a mix of irritation and curiosity. “Come on, swamp queen, if you’re so mighty now, help me with this.” She gred at him, her eyes narrowing like she was debating spitting in his face, then croaked: “Don’t order me around, weakling! But I’ll do it—not for you, but because this swamp needs a queen.”
Midday hit the swamp like a dull stain, the sun barely piercing the thick fog that hung over the toxic puddles like a gray shroud. Renn trudged through the muck, each step a wet sp that spttered his ragged pants, while the Shadowtoad hopped beside him, her long legs carving trails in the mud as if staking her cim. He dragged an improvised sack made of rotted cloth, scooping handfuls of slimy mud that reeked of rot and sulfur, the stench so sharp it made him grimace more than usual. The Shadowtoad, with her shimmering skin and self-procimed royal air, croaked now and then, watching him like he was a bumbling servant in her muddy domain. Renn gnced at her sideways, thinking: If this venomous croaker’s my strength, maybe I’m not completely sunk… but these stats are a damn mystery. The sack weighed heavy on his shoulder, but he kept digging for more mud, muttering: “If this mission gets me something, it better be worth the stink.”
“Hey, swamp queen,” he said, breaking the silence as he plunged his hands into a particurly thick puddle, “who ditched you in the first pce? Don’t tell me you’ve always been this full of yourself.” The mud oozed between his fingers like rancid soup, and he tossed it into the sack with a plop that echoed in the damp air.
The Shadowtoad leaped onto a twisted root, crossing her arms with that arrogance that seemed to swell with every croak. “A pompous Lord, scrawny wreck,” she replied, her voice cutting like broken gss. “Used me as a shield against a swarm of rats, then dumped me in a puddle to rot when I couldn’t keep up. What about you, filthy scavenger? How’d you end up a muck-cleaner?”
Renn paused, mud dripping from his hands as he stared at the gray horizon of the swamp, the fog weaving through the vines like a torn veil. “They kicked me out of the vilge for smelling like a corpse,” he said, his voice low and ced with a bitterness he rarely let slip. “My core was busted from the start—worthless to them. Other kids went to Lord schools, learned to summon critters that torched towns, and I got stuck hauling dung and scraps ‘cause it’s all I could do.” He wiped his hands on his pants, leaving a brown smear that blended with the already filthy fabric. “We’re a pair of castoffs, venomous croaker.”
She let out a croak that was more a sharp ugh than pure mockery, hopping closer to jab a webbed finger into his chest. “A pair of castoffs, he says!” she croaked, mimicking his tone with a sarcasm that stung like her venom. “But I’m a queen now, weakling, and you’re still a scavenger with a core that looks like stepped-on trash!” She leaped in a swift circle around him, her long legs spshing mud that hit his face.
Renn grunted, wiping it off with a hand that only spread more grime, and let out a raspy chuckle that sounded like a cough. “Yeah, keep crowing, puffed-up toad!” he shot back, pointing at her with a finger shaky from fatigue. “How’d you make it as a shield, huh? Hopping ‘til they got tired of chasing you?” Mud dripped down his beard, and he swiped it away with a sleeve that was beyond saving.
The Shadowtoad stopped, her bulging eyes narrowing with a glint that was more anger than pride. “I didn’t make it, scrawny,” she croaked, her voice dropping low and slicing like a dull bde. “Died in that puddle, crushed by rats while that Lord ughed and walked off. I was bait ‘til this hellhole swamp brought me back with your filthy water. You, muck-raker? How’d you end up here?”
He scratched his head, mud sliding down his neck like a brown cascade, and fshed a crooked half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “’Cause no one else would take the job,” he said, shrugging as he eyed the bulging sack. “Other cleaners called this swamp a deathtrap, said only a fool would come for a handful of coins. I was the fool, swamp queen.” His voice carried an irony that didn’t quite mask the weariness. “Pitiful, huh?”
She croaked, a sound that was scorn ced with a flicker of something almost like respect. “Pitiful but crafty, clumsy oaf!” she said, hopping beside him with a spt that spshed mud on his boots. “That’s why I’m stronger than you now. I’m a queen, and you’re still a weakling scraping by!” He nodded, slow and deliberate, thinking: Maybe she’s got a point… but if she’s the strong one, what the hell am I in this swamp?
Dusk settled over the swamp like a murky smear, the sun sinking behind the thick fog and casting a grimy glow across the toxic puddles. Renn kept collecting mud, each step a wet sp that spttered his tattered pants, while the Shadowtoad hopped alongside, her long legs gouging trails in the mire as if ciming it as her own. The makeshift sack dragged heavy behind him, and he grunted with every haul, the reek of rot and sulfur so sharp it twisted his face. The Shadowtoad, with her glossy skin and self-crowned swagger, croaked occasionally, watching him like he was a fumbling ckey in her muddy realm. Renn gnced at her sideways, thinking: If this venomous croaker’s my muscle, maybe I’m not totally sunk… but these stats are a damn puzzle.
Suddenly, the ground quaked beneath his boots, a dry crack echoing through the vines dangling like dead snakes. Renn looked up, the sack dropping into the mud with a soggy thud, and saw the vines stirring, wriggling as if alive. The mental screen fred before his eyes, flickering in the gloom: [Mission updated: Escape the vines. Reward: 10 Toxic Mud]. “What the—!” he shouted, stumbling back as a thick vine rose from the muck, dripping a green liquid that hissed on contact with the ground like weak acid.
“Move it, puffed-up toad!” he barked, hurling a stream of dirty water from his hands at the nearest vine. The liquid hit with a spsh, forcing it back, but another shot up to his left, coiling around his leg like a rope. Renn yanked hard, mud spshing his face as he growled: “This swamp’s a cursed pit—that’s why no one took this job but me!” Another vine, faster, whipped forward and wrapped his arm, squeezing until his joints creaked. If I don’t break free, this’ll snap me like a twig, he thought, panic cwing up his throat. A third vine lunged, thick as his arm and dripping venom, wrapping his neck and choking off his air.
The Shadowtoad leaped beside him, her bulging eyes fshing with irritation and a flicker of something she’d never admit. “Not for you, scrawny wreck!” she croaked, spitting a stream of venom that hit the vine on his leg with a corrosive ssss that stank of burnt rot. The green liquid seared through the pnt, loosening its grip with a wet snap, and she gred at him with disdain as she hopped to the next. “You’re a walking disaster, filthy scavenger! How’d you level up if you can’t handle a few weeds?”
Renn freed his leg, gasping as another vine tightened around his arm, and snapped: “I killed that rat, you venomous braggart!” He flung another clumsy burst of dirty water, barely slowing the vine on his neck as it squeezed harder, cutting his breath to a wheeze. “Help me, damn it, or this swamp’ll bury us both!” The vine on his arm twisted, and he felt a jolt of pain shoot through his shoulder. This pce is a nightmare, he thought, spots dancing in his vision.
The Shadowtoad croaked, a sound dripping with venom, and sprang with a speed that left him gaping, her long legs propelling her toward the vine choking his neck. She spat a thicker burst of venom, a heavy stream that burned through the pnt with a shrieking ssss, dissolving it into a smoking heap that released him with a sharp snap. Renn colpsed into the mud, coughing as air flooded back into his lungs, while she nded before him and fired another bst, melting the vine on his arm into a puddle of sizzling green goo. “Don’t just sit there like a limp rag, clumsy!” she croaked, jabbing a webbed finger at him. “Fight, or this swamp’ll grind you to mush!”
Renn staggered up, mud dripping down his back, and threw a final, shaky stream of dirty water at a straggling vine, driving it back into the mire. The pnts sank slowly, as if the swamp had decided they’d suffered enough, and he slumped against the rotten log, panting: “This pce is a living curse!” The Shadowtoad gred at him, croaking with a tone more taunting than threatening: “Obviously, muck-raker, that’s why I’m stuck with you! No way out of this hellpit!” Renn wiped mud from his face, grunting: “That’s why I’m not calling another one yet—if it hates me more than you, I’m done for.”
She hopped beside him, her eyes glinting with cold pragmatism. “Smart move, weakling!” she croaked, crossing her arms. “Stick with me—I’m the only queen you need for now!” Renn stared at her, caught off guard by the remark, and thought: If she’s my strength, maybe this swamp won’t swallow me whole just yet.
Night draped the swamp like a damp curtain, light rain tapping the makeshift shack with a steady tap-tap that filled the quiet. Renn sat inside, dried mud crusted on his clothes like a second skin, while the Shadowtoad lounged in a corner, her bulging eyes glowing in the dimness like toxic nterns. The busted orb rested between them on a ft stone, its cracked surface flickering faintly as Renn stared at it, thinking: If this venomous croaker’s my muscle, maybe I’m not as doomed as I figured. His stomach growled, a rumble that shattered the silence like thunder, and he scratched his head, muttering: “Hell, I haven’t eaten since yesterday.” He gnced at the Shadowtoad, eyes narrowing with a dumb idea, thinking: What about flies? She’s a frog, right?
She caught him staring, and her eyes widened, fury fshing across her glossy face. “Don’t you dare think about flies, clumsy oaf!” she croaked, leaping at him with a speed that smmed him back against the shack’s wall. “I’m no common frog, you wreck! I’m a queen now—look at me!” She flexed her long legs, strutting across the muddy floor like it was a pace hall. “Flies, he says! What a clown you are!”
Renn raised his hands, chuckling despite the exhaustion dragging at his bones. “Easy, swamp queen!” he said, his voice rough with fatigue. “Just a stray thought—don’t lose your crown over it. I’m not hunting you or anything.” She croaked, a sound dripping with disdain, and he grunted: “But we’ve gotta eat something, you puffed-up toad! This pce doesn’t grow apples, and I’m not licking mud.”
The Shadowtoad gred, her eyes narrowing as if weighing whether to spit in his face, then croaked: “Then hunt something worth eating, scrawny! No flies, but a rat if you cook it right!” Renn blinked, surprised by the suggestion, then fshed a crooked grin. “That I can manage, venomous braggart,” he said, hauling himself up with a groan of creaking joints. “Let’s snag a medium rat—no giants this time.”
The swamp hummed outside, rain blending with the distant croaks of lesser frogs that cked half her fire. Renn stepped out, the Shadowtoad hopping beside him, and they soon spotted a medium rat nosing through the vines. It was dog-sized, with sharp fangs and greasy fur gleaming under the drizzle like an oil slick. “There, swamp queen!” Renn whispered, pointing with a grimy finger. “You poison it, I finish it.” She croaked, a sound thick with arrogance, and spat a burst of venom that hit the rat’s face, making it squeal and stagger like it’d downed bad liquor. Renn hurled a stream of dirty water, drowning it in a murky puddle until it went limp with a final plop.
“Done, your majesty!” he said, dragging the carcass back to the shack with a grunt. He sparked a fire with damp twigs and a spsh of dirty water to coax it alive, cooking the rat on a ft stone, the scent of charred meat mingling with the swamp’s reek in a mix that wasn’t half bad. The Shadowtoad watched, croaking: “Don’t ruin it, clumsy—I want it tasty!” He ughed, slicing a chunk with a rusty knife and handing it over with a mocking flourish. “Here you go, queen of the muck,” he said, taking a piece for himself.
They ate in silence for a moment, the fire crackling under the rain, then Renn pulled out the busted orb, setting it between them. “Sit here, venomous croaker,” he said, taking her rough, warm webbed hand and pcing it on the orb. The screen fred, revealing the global chat:
[Lord_Korr]: “My new griffin crushed a vilge today. Who’s topping that?”]
[Lord_Torm]: “My ice dragon froze a river, you feather-brained fool.”]
[Lord_Varn]: “You’re both fools—my demon burned a forest to ashes.”]
The Shadowtoad croaked, a sound thick with scorn, hopping closer to the orb. “What a pack of clowns!” she said, her voice sharp as a bde. “Look at these puffed-up Lords strutting like they’re hot stuff!” Renn ughed, a hoarse sound that bounced off the shack’s walls, nearly spitting out his rat. “Always said so, swamp queen,” he replied, slicing another chunk. “Korr with his feathers, Torm with his ice—they’re a circus.”
She eyed him, narrowing her eyes as she chewed a piece with almost regal precision. “You read this, muck-raker?” she croaked, curiosity edging her sarcasm. Renn nodded, a half-smile showing more weariness than joy. “Yeah, it was the only good thing I had before you showed up,” he said, gncing at the orb. “Listening to these jokers bicker while I hauled dung.” The Shadowtoad croaked, a sound that was almost a dry ugh. “Pitiful, but it’s got a kick,” she said, hopping nearer. “What’d they say if they saw me, huh?”
Renn looked at her, firelight flickering in his tired eyes, and sliced another piece of rat. “That you’re tougher than me, puffed-up toad,” he said, sarcasm ced with a shred of truth. “Check your stats: Agility 15, Venom 10. I’m still a weakling with Strength 6.” She croaked, strutting across the shack’s muddy floor like it was her throne. “Of course, clumsy—I’m a queen!” she shot back, thumping her chest with a webbed hand. “Don’t think we’re pals, scrawny—I’m here for me!”
He ughed, chewing another bite as the chat rolled on:
[Lord_Korr]: “My griffin’s feathers shine brighter than your dragon’s scales.”]
[Lord_Torm]: “Shine? They’re just filthy feathers, you puffed-up ass.”]
[User_777]: “You’re both clowns—my rats could eat your pets alive.”]
The Shadowtoad croaked, a sound thick with disdain and amusement. “Look at these clowns squabbling like kids!” she said, hopping beside Renn. “User_777’s got it right—my rats are worth more than their puffed-up critters!” Renn ughed, smacking the stone with his rusty knife. “That’s it, swamp queen!” he said, fshing a crooked grin. “Those Lords are a mess—I’ve always known it.” He gnced at the orb, then at her, and muttered: “I’m not summoning another one yet, venomous croaker. I want us solid first. Your stats are keeping me alive, and if the next one hates me more than you do, I’m sunk.”
She stared at him, narrowing her eyes as if weighing whether to spit in his face, then croaked: “Don’t think you’re my savior, you frail wreck, but keep it up!” The screen flickered: [Resources: 90 Toxic Mud]. Renn sliced off another chunk of rat and handed it over, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “If your stats keep me breathing, maybe this swamp won’t swallow me whole,” he said, gazing at the fire. She croaked, a sound more taunt than threat: “Don’t get your hopes up, clumsy—I could still poison you if you give me a reason.”
Renn ughed, the sound bouncing off the shack’s walls as the rain kept falling, and thought: If this puffed-up croaker’s my strength, maybe this swamp won’t kill me off too quick… or maybe it will.
