Six slid off Gorm's lap, her legs slightly unsteady.
Gods, that was... something.
She retrieved her traveling clothes from her pack where she'd hid them in the bushes and began to dress, pulling on her shirt, adjusting her trousers, lacing up her boots. The ogre watched her with those small, devoted eyes, making no move to cover himself.
"So, Gorm." Six tugged her shirt down and reached for her belt. "Where exactly were you headed before I... interrupted your dinner?"
The ogre grunted, finally tucking himself back into his loincloth.
"Hightown." He spat the word like it tasted foul. "To give Lord Farquat a piece of my mind."
Six paused, one boot half-laced.
"Hightown? Lord Farquat?"
"You do not know of Hightown?" Gorm's brow furrowed—an impressive feat given how lumpy it already was. "It is the great city beyond the swamp. Three days walk, maybe two for Gorm."
Six finished lacing her boot and straightened.
"I'm... not from around here." She grabbed her witch hat from where it had fallen and placed it back on her head. "Tell me about this Lord Farquat. What did he do to piss you off?"
Gorm's massive hands clenched into fists.
"Farquat is tyrant." The baroque accent grew thicker as his anger rose. "He rules Hightown with iron fist. He takes what he wants from who he wants. His soldiers were here three moons ago." Gorm paused, "They steal Gorm's wife. Take her to Hightown for... for games."
Six blusehd, here new thrall was married.
"Games?" Six asked, a quizical expression coming over her equsite dark features.
"Arena." Gorm's voice dropped to a low growl. "Farquat makes creatures fight for amusement of crowds. Monsters. Beasts. Ogres." His tiny eyes glistened. "My wife, she is gentle. Would not hurt fly. But Farquat's men took her away. Made her fight."
Six felt something twist in her chest. "What happened to your wife?"
Gorm was silent for a long moment.
"She died. In the arena. Fighting thing with too many teeth." The ogre's voice cracked. "Crowds cheered."
Six exhaled slowly.
Lord Farquat. Arena. Kidnapping creatures for bloodsport.
She filed the information away.
"So you're going to Hightown to... what? Kill him?"
Gorm shrugged his massive shoulders. "Gorm had not thought that far. Just knew Gorm needed to do something. Could not sit in swamp anymore, thinking of wife, doing nothing."
Six finished adjusting her clothes and walked over to the fire, settling down beside the roasting tentacle balls. They'd stopped squealing at least.
"What else can you tell me about Hightown? Who lives there? What's the layout?"
Gorm scratched his chin, thinking.
"Is big city. Built on hill. Poor folk live at bottom—the Dregs, they call it. Middle is merchant district, guilds, taverns. Top of hill is Farquat's castle." He paused. "Walls are high. Guards are many. Farquat has army, tax collectors, executioners."
"Sounds charming."
"Is not." Gorm missed the sarcasm entirely. "But Hightown also has things swamp does not. Food that is not tentacle beast. Ale. Warm beds."
Six's stomach growled at the mention of food. Real food. Not swamp creatures.
"What about magic? Witches? Anything like that?"
Gorm nodded slowly. "Is guild. Mage guild. They answer to Farquat, do his bidding. Keep people in line with spells and curses." He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Gorm hears rumors. Says Farquat has something locked beneath castle. Something powerful. Something he uses to control the land."
Six's eyebrows rose.
Now that's interesting.
"Any idea what it is?"
"No. Just rumors. Whispers." Gorm shrugged again. "Gorm is just ogre. Does not understand politics and magic things."
Six stood and walked over to him, placing a hand on his massive forearm.
"Well, Gorm, lucky for you—I do understand magic things." She smiled up at him. "And I think our goals might align. You want to make Farquat pay for what he did to your . And I need information, resources, and to return back to the dark woods, to plan out my next move."
Gorm's eyes brightened with hope.
"You... you will help Gorm?"
"I'll do more than help." Six patted his arm. "I'm going to help you burn that bastard's world down around his ears. But first—" She glanced toward the swamp, toward the distant red glows all around. "First we need to get through this swamp, and back to my home in the Black woods."
Gorm nodded his head, "Black Forest? I know way."
Six felt her heartbeat faster with excitement, this adventure was coming to a close as a new one was forming.
"There's something following me. Something bad."
Gorm followed her gaze, his nostrils flaring.
"Gorm smells it. Has smelled it for hours. Cold thing. Bloody thing." He looked back at Six. "What is it?"
"They call him the Wolf King." Six's voice was flat. "And if he catches up to us, even you won't be able to stop him."
Gorm processed this for a moment.
Then he stood, grabbing his tree-trunk club.
"Then we do not let him catch up." He extended his other hand toward Six. "Come, my Queen. Gorm knows shortcut to black forest, Will get us to edge of swamp by dawn."
Six looked at the massive hand, then up at the ogre's earnest face.
She smiled and took it.
"Lead the way, Gorm."
"This way, my Queen."
Gorm pushed through a curtain of hanging moss, his massive form carving a path through the swamp. Six followed close behind, her eyes not on the fog around them, but on the red glows pulsing at the edges of her perception.
The choker hummed against her throat.
Forty feet left. Two signatures. One fading.
"Hold," Six whispered.
Gorm froze instantly, club at the ready.
Six tilted her head, watching the red outlines through the mist. Two crawdads had cornered something—a large swamp rat, maybe—and were in the process of tearing it apart. She could see the victim's glow flickering, dimming, nearly spent.
But the crawdads were distracted.
"Gorm. Forty feet, ten o'clock. Two of those spear-claw things."
The ogre's lips curled into a grin.
"Gorm sees."
They moved in tandem—Six circling wide to the right while Gorm advanced from the front. The fog swallowed them both, muffling their footsteps.
The crawdads never saw it coming.
Gorm's club came down like a meteor, crunching through the first crawdad's carapace and driving it six inches into the muck. The creature's legs spasmed once and went still.
The second crawdad whirled, water jet already building in its throat—
Six appeared behind it.
"Witch Fire!"
FWOOM!
Tongues of bright searing pink flame ignited around Six's palm and shot outward in a raging flare!
The fiery pink blast of flame caught the crawdad in its softer underbelly, the force from the explosion flipping it onto its back. Before it could right itself, Six was already issuing her next attack.
Six threw up her hands and shouted "Siphon!"
The silver proboscis pendant on the cursed queens kiss choker pulsed.
A blood red mosquitoe queen materilized in the the air above the flipped crawdad and slowly extended it's blood red proboscis, there was a punture noise though the proboscis only hovered above the crawdad, but then Six could see a funnel of vital life essence being siponed out of the crawdad!
A massive blood red sphere of vital essence gathered at the mosquitoe queens probscis before a funnel appeared over Six's head and the sphere of energy transfered to her.
Six gasped as she felt the rush—warm, electric, alive. The crawdad's legs thrashed weakly as its vitality drained away, The ache in her bicep faded. The exhaustion in her limbs retreated. Even the faint lightheadedness from the choker's passive drain vanished.
The crawdad stopped moving.
Six stood, rolling her shoulders, feeling good for the first time in hours.
"That never gets old."
They pushed deeper into the swamp.
Six's Blood Scent painted a constant map of violence around them—creatures hunting, creatures dying, creatures bleeding out in the fog. And Six used every bit of it.
Sixty feet to the right a towering swamp crow was finishing off a Tentacle Ball Queen
"Gorm."
The ogre moved. The towering swamp crow was finished mid-peck as Gorm brought down his tree trunk on the crows head.
Eighty feet ahead, two crawdads were fighting over territory. Both had wounded one another over the course of the fight.
Six and Gorm hit them from opposite sides. It was over in seconds.
Thirty feet left. Something big was injured, limping, trying to flee from something larger.
They found it—a hulking swamp turtle the size of a wagon, one leg mangled, dragging itself through the water. The thing that had wounded it was nowhere to be seen.
Six didn't hesitate.
"Siphon."
The Mosguitoe Queen appeared and plunged it's proboscis into the vital essence or aura of the turtle and soon she began to siphon a huge red sphere of the hulking swamp turtles remaning life force
More vitality. More strength.
The turtle's shell shimmered as it died and Six heard those magic words;
"DROP ACQUIRED."
Six blinked at the notification, then grinned as a small jade amulet materialized in her palm.
[ Shell of the Stubborn ]
— Charm (Defensive) —
Rarity: Common
Effect: Once per day, negate the first instance of damage that would reduce HP below 25%.
"Damn." she thought as she pocketed it. "That's over powered for a common tier Item." She eye'd her body guard and new thrall, "This would be a better fit for him."
They kept moving. Kept hunting.
A nest of tentacle balls that had just finished swarming a wounded deer—Gorm waded in swinging while Six picked off the stragglers with witch fire.
The tentacle ball's corpse shimmered.
Six watched, breath held, as the familiar glow coalesced above the mangled remains. The light twisted, elongated, took shape—
A whip.
A whip.
DROP ACQUIRED.
[ Inky Tendril Whip ]
— Weapon (Flexible) —
Rarity: Uncommon
Effect: A long whip made from preserved tentacle ball appendages. Attacks have a 15% chance to apply [Constrict], briefly immobilizing the target.
Six snatched it out of the air before it even finished materializing.
"YES!"
Her scream echoed across the swamp, startling a flock of something in the distant fog. She didn't care.
"YES! YES! YES!"
Six held the whip up to the dim light, her eyes shining with manic glee. It was beautiful—dark as ink, slightly iridescent, the preserved tentacle flesh woven and braided into a long, elegant cord. The handle was wrapped in some kind of leather, perfectly weighted, and when she gave it an experimental flick—
CRACK.
The sound was perfect.
"Oh, you gorgeous thing." Six cradled the whip against her chest like a newborn. "I've wanted one of you for so long. Do you know how hard it is to find a decent whip? Do you have any idea?"
Gorm watched her with a mixture of confusion and mild concern.
"My Queen... it is just weapon, yes?"
"Just a weapon?" Six whirled on him, eyes wide with mock offense. "Gorm. Gorm. A whip isn't just a weapon. A whip is style. A whip is range. A whip is—" She cracked it again, grinning at the sound. "—that."
She gave it another experimental swing, letting the tip snake through the air before snapping it back with a flick of her wrist.
"CRACK!"
"Constrict effect too," she murmured, reading the description again. "Fifteen percent chance to immobilize. That's not amazing odds, but with enough hits..."
She was already doing the math in her head. Already imagining the possibilities.
Wrap up an enemy's legs. Yank weapons out of hands. Choke. Trip. Disarm.
A whip was versatile.
Six looped the weapon at her hip, her hand lingering on the handle for a moment longer than necessary.
"I'm naming you," she announced.
Gorm blinked. "You... name weapon?"
"Of course I name weapon. Everyone names weapons." She patted the coiled whip affectionately. "I'll call you... Inky."
"...Inky."
"Inky." Six nodded firmly. "It's perfect. Don't argue."
Gorm wisely did not argue.
She was practically bouncing as she scanned for the next red signature, she found it.
Six spotted the glow immediately.
It was big. Really big.
She crept forward through the fog, Gorm at her side, until the shapes resolved through the mist.
Two crawdads.
Both massive. But one was clearly the dominant specimen—easily six feet longer, its carapace scarred and battle-worn, its left claw elongated into a wicked spear that was currently buried in its rival's thorax.
The lesser crawdad twitched weakly, ichor bubbling from the wound, its legs scraping uselessly at the muck.
The alpha twisted its spear-claw and the rival went still.
Perfect timing.
Six touched Gorm's arm and pointed. The ogre nodded, already moving—circling wide through the shallows, making no attempt at stealth. His massive feet splashed through the water.
The alpha's eyestalks swiveled.
It spotted Gorm and immediately released its dead rival, raising both claws in a threat display. A warning hiss escaped its mandibles as water began to build pressure somewhere in its throat.
"That's it. Look at the big scary ogre. Don't mind me."
Six dissolved into shadow.
The Veil of Wanton Shadows carried her forward—a wisp's of violet-black smoke streaking through the fog. She passed through the alpha crawdad, feeling the brief resistance of chitin and flesh, and rematerialized directly behind it.
The crawdad staggered.
Its eyestalks wobbled, disoriented. The water jet it had been building sputtered and misfired, spraying harmlessly into the fog. The Whispered Temptation had taken hold—confusion, agitation, accuracy shot to hell.
And behind the creature, a nude mirage of Six flickered into existence, blowing a kiss before dissolving into embers.
The alpha spun toward the afterimage—
Six's hand was already moving.
She drew Inky in one fluid motion, her wrist snapping forward with all the pent-up excitement of a child on Christmas morning.
CRACK!
The whip sang through the air and connected with the joint between the alpha's carapace and its spear-claw.
[ -47 ]
Damage glyphs bloomed in Six's vision—amber numbers floating briefly before fading. Not amazing. Not terrible. A solid hit.
But then—
[ CONSTRICT APPLIED ]
"YES!"
Tentacles materialized out of thin air and coiled around the crawdad's spear-claw! They moved like they had a mind of their own, the preserved tentacle flesh tightening, constricting, locking the limb in place. The alpha shrieked—a horrible clicking sound—and tried to pull free.
It couldn't.
"IT WORKED!" Six was practically screaming. "GORM, IT WORKED! FIRST TRY!"
The ogre didn't need to be told twice.
He closed the distance in three thundering steps and brought his club down on the alpha's back with a CRUNCH that sent cracks spiderwebbing across the carapace. The crawdad's legs buckled.
Six yanked on Inky, pulling the constricted claw toward her, throwing the creature off-balance.
"Again!"
CRACK!
Six lashed out at one of the crawdad's eyestalks. The whip connected with a wet snap, and the stalk exploded in a spray of fluid.
[ -31 ]
[ BLINDED (Partial) ]
"Oh, I love you," Six crooned at the whip.
The alpha thrashed blindly, snapping its crusher claw at empty air. Gorm stepped around the wild swing and hammered another blow into its side. Chitin shattered. Legs crumpled.
Six circled, looking for an opening.
There.
The joint where the tail met the thorax—a thin seam of softer flesh between armored plates.
CRACK.
Inky found the gap.
[ -68 ]
[ CONSTRICT APPLIED ]
More tentacles generated and wrapped around the crawdad's tail, yanking it sideways, exposing the creature's vulnerable underbelly.
"GORM! BELLY! NOW!"
The ogre lunged.
His club came down like a guillotine, punching through the softer underside with a sickening squelch. The alpha spasmed, legs drumming against the water—
And went still.
Six stood in the shallows, breathing hard, Inky still clutched in her hand.
The crawdad's corpse began to shimmer.
But Six wasn't looking at that. She was staring at the whip—at the dark coils now splattered with ichor, at the way it had moved, responded, performed.
"Two constricts," she breathed. "Two constricts in one fight. Fifteen percent my ass—you're a natural."
She lifted Inky and pressed a kiss to the handle.
"Best. Drop. Ever."
Gorm watched her with something approaching fondness.
"My Queen is... very attached to new weapon."
"Gorm, I would die for this whip." Six finally looked at the shimmering corpse. "Now let's see what our spiky friend left behind."
DROP ACQUIRED.
[ Pressure Valve Ring ]
— Accessory (Ring) —
Rarity: Uncommon
Effect: Once per day, release a high-pressure water jet in a 15-foot line. Deals moderate damage and knocks back smaller enemies.
Six slipped the ring onto her finger, wiggling it experimentally.
"Cute. Not Inky-level, but cute."
She coiled the whip at her hip, gave it one last affectionate pat, and turned back toward the fog.
The Mosquito Queen dropped the choker. The turtle dropped the charm. The crawdad dropped the ring. Every powerful creature in this swamp is a potential drop.
She looked around at the fog, at the dozens of red signatures pulsing in every direction. Creatures fighting. Creatures dying. Creatures wounded and vulnerable.
And with Blood Scent, I can see all of it. Every fight. Every injured survivor. Every easy target.
Her lips slowly curled into a smile.
"Gorm."
"Yes, my Queen?"
Six turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with sudden, hungry ambition.
"Change of plans, we're not leaving the swamp just yet."
The ogre tilted his head, confused. "But... the Wolf King? The cold thing that follows?"
"He's still far enough behind. We have time." Six gestured at the fog around them. "This swamp is a goldmine, Gorm. Every creature here is a chance at better gear, better weapons, more power. And right now, we have the perfect setup—I can see every wounded target in a two-hundred-foot radius, and you can crush anything that fights back."
Understanding dawned in Gorm's small eyes.
Six's grin widened. "We hit the survivors of every fight we find. We take their drops. We get stronger." She placed a hand on his massive forearm. "And by the time we leave this swamp, Gorm? Lord Farquat won't stand a chance."
The ogre was silent for a moment.
Then his face split into a brutal, tusk-filled smile.
"Gorm likes this plan."
Six patted his arm.
"I thought you might." She turned back toward the fog, scanning the red signatures, already picking their next target. "Now come on. I see a cluster of tentacle balls about sixty feet northeast. Looks like they just took down something big."
She started walking.
"Let's go shopping."