Dawn crept over the swamp like a sodden rag, the thick fog hanging between the puddles like a rotten breath that refused to fade. The air was heavy with a stench of sulfur and damp decay, a scent that clung to the throat like an invisible crust. The geyser bubbled in the distance with a low, mocking gurgle, while the hum of bck flies wove a constant backdrop that never let up. Renn Tork crouched in the makeshift shack — a frame of crooked sticks and rotting branches that dripped mud with every gust of wind — digging through the sack of toxic sludge with fingers bck from dried muck. His tattered boots creaked under his weight, the brown crust coating them crumbling like old dirt, and the scratch on his leg throbbed with a dull echo he barely noticed beneath the exhaustion crushing his shoulders. He pulled out a handful of slimy sludge, sniffing it for a moment before letting it fall with a dull plop, his mind spinning in slow circles: Level 2, according to that weird glow in the core. Does it mean anything, or am I just a filthy wreck with a new number? The rat gave me something, but this chunk of rock still feels as dead as ever.
In a corner, near an indoor puddle reflecting a green shimmer under the pale light of bioluminescent mushrooms, the Saposombra frog croaked with a steady rhythm, its bulging eyes fixed on him as if sizing him up from a soggy throne. Its glossy skin gleamed with a rough sheen, like a gem carved from a toxic river, and its long, muscled legs flexed with an energy that seemed to buzz in the air. Renn scratched his scruffy beard, dried mud fking off like ashes between his fingers, and broke the silence with a raspy voice that cut through the air like a rusty axe:
“Hey, venomous croaker, what were you like before they ditched you like dung?” He squinted at her with one eye, curiosity gnawing at him like an old worm. “Don’t tell me you were always this pompous queen croaking like the swamp’s your pace.”
The frog let out a dry croak, a sharp sound that bounced off the damp walls like a whipcrack, and hopped from the puddle to a gnarled root in front of him with a chap that spttered mud on his boots. She crossed her arms with an arrogance etched into her shiny skin and gred at him with a scorn that needed no words.
“You want to know about my lost greatness, you filthy scavenger?” she snapped, her tone sharp as a rusted bde. “I wasn’t a queen back then, weakling. I was a miserable grunt, summoned by a cruel Lord who saw me as a dirty rag to wipe his boots with.” She paused, her bulging eyes fshing with an ancient fury boiling beneath her skin. “They raised me in a stinking mud pit, a pen of rejects where they piled up weak troops like me. They gave us broken sticks and threw us into fights we couldn’t win: swarms of insects with stingers like nails, toxic wolves spitting slime that burned the skin. All so his shiny armor wouldn’t get a scratch.”
Renn set the sack aside, mud dripping from his hands like thick soup, and leaned toward her, frowning as the smoke from the dying fire stung his eyes. “What Lord had you, you smug toad?” he asked, his voice low and ced with a curiosity he couldn’t hide. “Don’t tell me you were his secret weapon, you pompous croaker.”
She croaked, a sound more growl than ugh, and hopped closer, jabbing a webbed finger into his chest hard enough to make him stagger back a step. “A cretin in shiny armor, you clumsy oaf!” she said, her voice cutting like shattered gss. “He called himself Drayce, a Lord who reeked of arrogance and polished metal. He pulled me from his portal and hated me from the first hop, furious that a frog like me came up instead of something with cws or wings. He sent me on suicide missions to scrub me from his list, yelling ‘cheap meat’ while he threw me to the front.” She paused, then added, “And you, you grimy wretch? What dragged you into this hellhole swamp?”
Renn grunted, staring up at the shack’s ceiling, cracks letting in wisps of fog like rotting fingers. He let out a dry ugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nobody dragged me, venomous croaker,” he replied, his voice thick with a bitterness that twisted like a knot. “My folks dumped me in an alley when they saw my core was worthless. It was a gray lump, no spark, a piece of junk not even good enough to pawn off as a trinket. I grew up crawling through trash heaps, cwing at rotten bread crusts and scraps others spat out.” He wiped his hands on his ragged pants, leaving a brown smear that blended into the already bck fabric. “I learned to live with my hands buried in filth, dodging kicks from anyone who walked by.”
The frog stared at him, her bulging eyes narrowing with a glint that was half mockery, half calcution, and croaked: “What a fine pair we are, weakling!” she said, mimicking his tone with a sarcasm that sliced like a bde. “Me hopping around as cheap meat for a Lord who despised me, and you rooting through garbage like a mangy mutt!” She hopped in a slow arc around him, her long legs spttering mud on his face like a brown rain. “But look at me now, you oaf, I’m a queen, and you’re still a grimy wretch with a core that looks like a trampled rock!”
Renn wiped the mud off with a sleeve long past saving, letting out a dry ugh that echoed in the shack. “Sure, you pompous toad, keep bragging!” he shot back, pointing at her with a shaky finger. “But if you were such cheap meat, how’d you end up in a puddle? What’d they send you to waste, you smug croaker?” He scratched his beard, mud falling like ashes, and thought: We were both trash to someone, but she cwed out of it… and I’m still here, knee-deep.
She stopped, her eyes gleaming with a spark more fury than pride, and croaked in a lower tone, sharp as a rusty axe: “They sent me as a shield against a swarm of giant rats, weakling, a horde snapping their teeth like they’d devour the world. Drayce stuck me out front so his fire vultures wouldn’t get dirty, and when the rats crushed me under their paws, he took off ughing like he’d won a bet.” She paused, her legs trembling with a flicker of rage. “They left me in a puddle, broken and forgotten, until this swamp dragged me back with your filthy water. It wasn’t your doing, you oaf, it was this muck.”
Renn looked at her, his eyes narrowed as mud dripped from his hands to the floor with a dull plop. “Damn, venomous toad,” he muttered, his voice softer than he meant it to be. “They used you like a rag and tossed you out, and they left me like a busted sack not worth patching. We’re a pair of scraps nobody wanted.” He scratched his head, thinking: If she crawled out of that hell, maybe this swamp’s got more than just shit in it… or maybe it’s just a grave on dey.
Dawn trudged forward with a ziness that seemed to mock them, the thick fog wrapping the shack like a damp shroud that clung to the skin. Renn stood up with a creak of joints that rang out in the silence, the sack of toxic sludge sitting uselessly to the side for now. His stomach growled like a starved dog, but the broken core around his neck buzzed faintly, prickling his skin as it cast a dim light in front of him. The mental screen fred up, bright and shaky in the mist:
[Lord: Renn Tork. Level 2. HP: 90/100. Strength 6, Agility 11, Endurance 17, Dirty Magic 10. Resources: 90 Toxic Sludge]
[Mission: Kill 3 medium beasts. Reward: 25 Toxic Sludge]
“Hell,” he grunted, kicking the sack with a wet thud that spttered mud on the floor. “Killing bumps the numbers, I felt it with the rat.” He squinted at the frog with one eye, a crooked grin breaking through the grime. “Let’s go for crabs and toxic toads, you pompous croaker. If I’m gonna crawl out of this swamp with more than mud on my boots, I need better than Strength 6.” He thumped his chest with a damp thud, mimicking her arrogance with a sarcasm that didn’t hide his weariness. “If I catch up to you, you shut up for a bit, you smug toad.”
The frog hopped from the gnarled root, nding in front of him with a plop that spshed mud on his boots, and croaked with an arrogance carved into her glossy skin. “You won’t catch me, you oaf!” she snapped, flexing her long legs like a prize won in battle. “My hops are pure gold, and you’re still a scrawny wretch with busted boots! Check my stats, you grimy fool: Agility 15, Venom 10. What’ve you got? A little squirt of dirty water that wouldn’t scare a fly?” She hopped in a slow arc around him, her movements slicing the air like a dull knife.
Renn grunted, wiping the mud from his face with a bckened sleeve. “Sure, venomous toad, keep boasting!” he said, pointing at her with a trembling finger. “But if I catch up, you shut it, you pompous croaker.” He slung the sack over his shoulder, mud dripping from his hands, and muttered, “Let’s hunt together, queen of the muck. I’m not staying behind while you bounce around like a lunatic.” He added, “What do we hit first?” his voice a mix of irritation and resolve.
She gred at him, narrowing her eyes as if considering spitting in his face, and croaked: “Crabs first, weakling!” she said, her tone sharp as broken gss. “But don’t get pinched, you oaf, or I’ll have to save you again and ugh in your face!” Renn grunted, pointing at her with a grimy finger. “You’re in charge, you smug toad!” he shot back. “But if I get pinched, you’re cooking, venomous croaker.” She croaked, a sound dripping with scorn. “Of course, I’m the queen!” she said, hopping toward the shack’s exit with a clumsy but swift grace.
Renn followed, each step a wet sp that spttered his ragged pants, thinking: If I kill three beasts, I’ll climb a bit… but this pompous toad won’t let up with her jabs. The geyser bubbled in the distance, a low gurgle that seemed to cackle at them as the fog parted like a rotting curtain, revealing the swamp in all its filthy glory.
Noon hit the swamp like a murky shadow, the sun barely piercing the thick fog that hung over the toxic puddles like a gray veil. Renn trudged through the mud, each step a wet sp that spttered his ragged pants, while the frog hopped beside him, her long legs carving tracks in the muck like she was staking her cim. The swamp buzzed with life: the deep croak of distant toads, the click of cws hidden among the roots, the geyser’s gurgle like a steady heartbeat. He carried the sack slung over his shoulder, mud dripping from his hands like thick soup, his eyes scanning the puddles for something worth hunting. Three medium beasts, he thought, and maybe I’ll stop being a weakling with ughable numbers.
It didn’t take long to spot a toxic crab, a beast the size of a small dog with venomous cws glinting in the gray light. Its bck eyes gleamed in the gloom, and mud dripped from its shell like a wet armor. “There, venomous toad!” Renn whispered, pointing with a grimy finger. “Die, you damn thing!” He unleashed a clumsy jet of dirty water from his hands, hitting the crab but barely slowing it. The beast snapped a cw that grazed his arm, tearing a yell from him and leaving a cut that burned like someone had rubbed boiling salt into it. The screen flickered: [HP: 85/100].
“Damn it!” he shouted, staggering as mud spshed his face. “This stings like hell!” The frog leaped with an agility that left him gaping, her long legs unching her at the crab like a green missile. “Don’t die, weakling!” she croaked, spitting a stream of venom that nded on the crab’s cw with a corrosive sss that filled the air with a sour stink. “I’d get bored without your whining, you oaf!” The green liquid ate into the shell, making it screech and stumble, and Renn seized the chance to fire another jet of dirty water, drowning it in a murky puddle until it stopped moving with a final plop.
“One down, you pompous croaker!” Renn gasped, mud dripping down his back. She nded in front of him, croaking with a tone dripping scorn. “My venom’s a masterpiece, you grimy wretch!” she snapped, strutting in the mud like she’d won a war. “You just spsh around like a lost kid!” Renn grunted, wiping mud from his face. “Sure, you smug toad, keep bragging! But that pinch hurts like a red-hot poker.”
They pressed on, the swamp humming around them, and soon found a pair of toxic toads, smaller than the crab but with warty skin oozing a green liquid that hissed when it hit the mud. Renn fired a jet of dirty water that struck the first one, drowning it in a puddle with a wet glup, and let out a dry ugh. “Look at that, venomous croaker!” he said, pointing at the dead toad. “Doesn’t it make you feel bad for your kin? Looks like a uglier cousin with more warts than pride.” The frog gred at him, her bulging eyes narrowing with a fsh of fury, and leaped at him with a speed that caught him off guard, nding a kick to his back with a long leg that sent him face-first into the mud with a spsh that echoed like a cruel punchline.
“I’ll poison you for that mouth, you clumsy scavenger!” she croaked, her voice sharp as a bde as she hopped to the second toad and doused it with a venom stream that made it sizzle until it went still. Renn got up, coughing mud while chuckling, the blow to his back stinging like a well-earned jest. “You’re a menace, you pompous toad!” he said, wiping his face with a hand that just smeared more muck. “But damn, what a kick, you smug croaker!” She croaked, a sound pure with disdain. “I’ll kick you again if you talk about my ‘kin,’ weakling! I’m a queen, not some sewer toad!”
Renn ughed, shaking mud off his clothes as the swamp buzzed around them. “Sure, queen of the muck, you’re a terror!” he said, sarcastic but with a hint of admiration he couldn’t bury. “One more down!” The screen flickered: [Mission completed: 25 Toxic Sludge added. Resources: 115 Toxic Sludge].
Dusk settled over the swamp like a dirty stain, the sun sinking behind the thick fog and leaving a murky glow over the toxic puddles. Renn and the frog trudged back to the shack, dragging the crab and toads in the sack, mud dripping from his hands as the stench of raw meat and sulfur filled the air. He sparked a fire with rotting branches and a spsh of dirty water to stoke it, roasting the beasts on a ft stone, the smell of charred meat mingling with the swamp in a mix that wasn’t half bad. The frog watched from a corner, croaking: “Don’t burn it, you oaf, I want it worth eating!” Renn ughed, slicing a chunk of crab with a rusty knife and handing it over with a mocking gesture. “Here you go, your mud majesty,” he said, taking a piece of toad for himself.
They ate in silence for a moment, the fire crackling under the light rain tapping the shack, then Renn pulled out the broken orb, setting it between them. He touched it with a grimy finger, and the screen fred, showing the regional chat in Spanish transted to English:
[Lord_Korr]: “Stinky’s swamp chow by now.”]
[Lord_Torm]: “Good riddance to that filth.”]
[Lord_Grenn]: “Heard he drowned in his own stink, what a moron.”]
[Lord_Mira]: “A rat’s worth more than that scum.”]
The frog let out a croak thick with annoyance, hopping closer to the orb. “What a bunch of jackasses!” she said, her voice cutting like shattered gss. “They don’t even come close to you, weakling… well, almost! Look at these clowns, strutting like they’re hot stuff.” Renn ughed, a hoarse sound that echoed in the shack, slicing another chunk of toad. “Let ‘em talk, venomous toad,” he shot back, chewing with a crooked grin. “I don’t give a damn what those idiots think. Korr with his feathers, Torm with his ice, and now Grenn and Mira… they’re a circus of fools.”
She eyed him, narrowing her eyes as she chewed a piece of crab with an almost regal precision. “Their critters aren’t worth my venom, you oaf!” she croaked, hopping beside the orb. “Let ‘em stay blind, you grimy wretch, it’s better for us!” Renn nodded, his half-smile showing more exhaustion than joy. “Let ‘em think I’m dead,” he said, staring at the orb. “Suits me fine.”
The chat rolled on, words glowing on the screen:
[Lord_Grenn]: “Stinky’s probably fertilizing that swamp by now.”]
[Lord_Mira]: “His stench is his only legacy, what a joke.”]
The frog croaked, a sound blending disdain with amusement. “Look at these jerks squabbling like hens!” she said, hopping next to Renn. “Let ‘em rot thinking that, weakling!” Renn ughed, smacking the stone with his rusty knife. “Damn right, you pompous croaker!” he said, his grin crooked. “They’re a mess, always have been.”
Night draped the swamp like a damp cloak, the soft rain tapping the shack with a steady tap-tap that filled the quiet. Renn sat by the fire, dried mud caked on his clothes like a hard shell, while the frog rested in a corner, her bulging eyes glowing in the dimness like venomous beacons. The broken orb sat between them, its faint light flickering like a dying eye. Renn sliced another piece of toad and ate it slowly, the bitter taste mingling with the weariness weighing down his bones. He looked at the frog, his raspy voice breaking the silence:
“If we keep hunting, I’ll climb a bit, you pompous toad. You sticking with me, or you ditching when you’re sick of my griping?” He squinted at her with one eye, a crooked grin peeking through the grime.
She croaked, a sound more mockery than threat, and hopped closer, pnting herself in front of him like she was about to issue a royal decree. “Don’t get your hopes up, you grimy wretch!” she snapped, her tone sharp as a bde. “I won’t let you die ‘cause you’re too damn entertaining, weakling! But don’t think you’re my pal, you oaf, I’m here for me.” She flexed her long legs, strutting in the mud like the shack was her court.
Renn ughed, a dry sound that echoed in the shack, and the screen flickered: [Resources: 115 Toxic Sludge]. He scratched his head, mud fking down his neck, and thought: If she’s my strength, what the hell am I in this muck pit? “You’re a useful wreck, venomous croaker,” he said, pointing at her with a shaky finger. “Keep killing with me and don’t bore me either.”
She gred at him, narrowing her eyes like she was weighing whether to spit in his face, and croaked: “Shut up and eat, weakling!” she said, her voice ced with sarcasm that stung like her venom. “I won’t kick you today, you oaf, but don’t get any ideas!” Renn nodded, slicing another chunk of crab and handing it over with a bitter grin. “Deal, you smug toad,” he said, staring at the fire as the rain kept falling. “If I kill more, will I ever impress you?”
She croaked, a sound dripping with disdain: “Keep trying, you grimy wretch, but don’t dream of catching me!” Renn ughed, the sound bouncing around the shack as he thought: If this pompous croaker’s my strength, maybe this swamp won’t swallow me whole… or maybe it will.
