Early the next morning, I set out toward the Swamp of Malodors. I took a northeasterly route, and soon came upon a badly polluted stream. I decided it was my best bet at the moment, and began following it due north.
Soon I came upon the swamp itself. Thick but ailing vegetation, porous, saturated earth, and, oh yes, that terrific, god-smiting ODOR. It smelled of ceaseless, percolating decay, thick and moist. I continued north, still following the little creek, now thick with reeds and waste. Though it was still early morning, the weather had become extremely hot, humid, oppressive.
As I walked along, I could not tear my eyes from the little creek, which seemed to carry all manner of unidentifiable detriment. I swear I saw several chunks that were certainly dwarf, human, or elf bits. Eventually, I looked up. It was a good thing I did.
Harpies! A pair of the hideous, woman-like bird creatures were flying straight at me. Though known only by legend in my home lands, these monsters were clearly very real. I readied my spear and shield and prepared to defend myself.
I engaged the beasts aggressively with my iron spear. Their small, bird-like frames had little chance of standing up to an armed dwarven warrior, even one as lowly as I. They weakened after a few strikes with my spear.
I dispatched one with a solid bash to the head.
And wrestled the second into unconsciousness. I then stomped the vile creature's brains out against a rock.
I continued on my way north through the increasingly fetid bog. Eventually, I came upon a multitude of charred bones lying upon a burnt-out field. I had arrived.
