Submission (#6172) Approved

Quest: Resonance - Act 2
Act Type: Bravery
Word Count: 1111
Adult Elnin Present: ELN1726
Regional Affinity: Enmir
Claiming Regional Affinity for: MYO-ELN477
Adventurer Rank Unlock Mini-Requirement: Adventurer outfit and Act of Bravery

The contents of the wooden cart clattered as its wheels tore through a tangle of vines that had fallen across the narrow path. Boggart stepped over the debris carefully, shifting the heavy pack across his shoulders to ease the strain. The leather satchel was stuffed with everything that an aspiring adventurer could need: non-perishable food, a compass, maps, matches, a first aid kit, soap, and an assortment of other useful odds and ends. A bedroll and blanket were strapped to one side. On the other, he carried a waterskin with charcoal filter so he could collect water wherever he went. Beneath the pack, he wore a thin cloak to keep the sun from heating his dark fur. A blue newsboy cap sat snuggly atop his head. Perhaps he should have taken his companion up on the offer to haul his belongings in the cart. No, he was adventuring and was determined to pull his own weight, even if it meant leaving his book collection behind. It was only temporary.

After a brief stop in Il’durahn to pick up a mysterious package from the academy and purchase more supplies, Boggart and Azarah had finally landed in Enmir. The swampy surroundings were new to the kittom, and he marveled at how green everything looked. Not the bright, cheery green that he had imagined, but a muddy, pea soup color that blended into browns and yellows. The air smelled earthy and raw. A thick forest of willows and moss-covered branches blocked out most of the sky, casting ominous shadows across the landscape. All around them, glowing fireflies bobbed lazily up and down. From time to time, one of the insects dipped a little too low and was snared by one of the plentiful carnivorous plants that sprouted up from the saturated soil.

It was still fairly early in the evening, but as the sun began to dip in the sky, the forest became too dark to safely traverse, even with the cart’s lantern lit. The path was poorly maintained, and there was a risk of pulling the wagon off-course and sinking into the bog. Boggart and Azarah had already struggled to free sunken wheels from the soggy earth a few times. Any deeper, and their cargo would be lost.

The two nins had found a wide, relatively firm spot to pause for the night and set up camp. Boggart toasted a marshmallow on a stick while a pot of stew simmered over the campfire.

“Do you want to hear another story?” Azarah’s rich, baritone voice sounded across the fire.

“Sure!” Boggart blew on the marshmallow and scraped it off between two crispy graham crackers and a square of spicy chocolate.

“Okay. Are you familiar with Enmir’s lore?”

“A little.”

“Good. If you want to become a successful treasure hunter or rare book dealer, you need to do a lot of research and learn about the local history and lore. It can be difficult to sort facts from myths, but a skilled treasure hunter will learn to cultivate reliable sources and sharpen their powers of observation.”

Boggart nodded.

“When I was a kittom, my mother used to tell me stories about the great lichenfrog, an enormous amphibian that lives in the Blistering Bog. Unlike an ordinary frog, this monster likes to feast on foolhardy kittoms who wander too close to the water’s edge. It is said that the bubbles that rise to the surface of the bog are a sure sign that the frog is waiting to strike, just under the surface.”

Boggart raised an eyebrow. “Don’t frogs breathe air on the surface.”

“Hmm… I believe that they can absorb oxygen through their skin while underwater.”

“Oh, wow. But would that cause bubbles? And if their favorite food is kittoms, what do they eat the rest of the time? There can’t really be that many kittoms disappearing out here, and I haven’t seen too many creatures around here larger than an ordinary frog.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t see too many of them.” Azarah chuckled and continued until the fire had burned down to embers, telling more tales about his encounters with quicksand, shady locals, and an elseworlder that could hear colors.

The next morning, Boggart and Azarah ventured into the Blistering Bog. Aside from the steady stream of large bubbles breaking the surface, the area didn’t look much different from the other swamps that the duo had passed through so far. The sounds of tree frogs and crickets chirping filled the air. If there was a big, scary monster here, the creatures living here didn’t seem afraid to make noise.

Azarah watched as the kittom took in the surroundings. “Still thinking about that story last night, huh?”

“A little.”

“Well, maybe you can take a few minutes to look around and investigate for yourself. We’re making really good time and can afford a break.”

Boggart nodded, removed his gear, and took a few hesitant steps toward the water. If a humongous amphibian lived here, maybe he could find some tracks. He examined the soft, peaty banks, scaring up the occasional frog, which plunked back into the water. The largest tracks that he could find were likely left by a grand heron or egret. If there was a giant frog here, it either didn’t walk on land often or it was entirely aquatic.

Next, the kittom tested the depth of the water using a long reed that he cut from the bank. It was far too short to reach the center of the bog, but the edges didn’t seem very deep, and it only got deeper very gradually. It didn’t seem likely that a large creature could sneak out and snag a kittom without being noticed. Well, maybe it had a very long tongue, but Boggart didn’t really want to test that theory.

Finally, Boggart returned to the cart and asked to borrow a glazed flowerpot from among Azarah’s wares. The kittom carefully snipped a hollow reed and stuck it through the hole in the bottom of the pot, then brought it back to the water’s edge, where bubbles were popping up frequently. He asked the elder nin to hold the pot at arm’s length over the water’s surface with the bottom facing upward, then struck a match and held it over the reed straw. A flame immediately shot upward. As he thought, the bubbles weren’t carbon dioxide from a frog’s respiration, but ordinary swamp gas. Something in the water must be producing more gas than usual.

While he couldn’t definitively prove that there wasn’t a giant frog in the bog, Boggart felt reasonably confident that the legend of the great lichenfrog was just that.