Drake collapsed beside a small campfire he'd hastily built just outside the Shadowfen's oppressive reach. Clunky grazed nearby, thankfully unaffected by the hag's magic or the general unpleasantness of the swamp. Drake, however, felt like he'd been run over by a cart full of rocks, then dipped in a vat of swamp sludge.
He checked his Codex, wincing as he moved.
* Level: 4
* Strength: 21
* Dexterity: 17
* Constitution: 23
* Intelligence: 14
* Wisdom: 7
* Charisma: 14
* Luck: 5
* Health: 30/100
*Skills:*
* Observe (Level 2)
* Sense Magic (Level 3)
* Street Fighting (Level 5)
* Harvest (Level 2)
* Seal Analysis (Basic)
* Shadow Cloak (Level 3)
* Shadow Strike (Level 2)
* Void Step (Level 1)
The Swamp Rot was still wreaking havoc on his system, drastically reducing his healing rate. He rummaged through his pack, finding the few remaining healing potions. He downed them quickly, but their effect was minimal, barely nudging his health up a few points.
"Well, this is just great," he muttered to Clunky, who looked at him with mild concern. "I get attacked by a crazy swamp witch, poisoned, nearly crushed by animated trees, and all I get is this lousy… well, these lousy injuries. And a frog. Can't forget the frog. Maybe I should train him. 'Sir Reginald the Frog, Savior of Drake.' Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
He spent the next two days in the small clearing, focusing on recovery. He meditated, focusing on calming his mind and body. He ate what little rations he had left, trying to regain his strength. He even attempted some light exercises, but the pain in his ribs quickly put a stop to that.
He also spent time reviewing his recent combat encounters. The fight with the Void Brute had been a brutal lesson in the importance of strategy and resource management. He had almost died because he had relied too much on brute force and not enough on planning. The encounter with the hag had further reinforced this lesson. He had been too focused on his usual witty banter and not focused enough on the immediate danger.
"Okay, new rules," he muttered to himself. "One: always take the fight seriously. Two: don't underestimate your opponent. Three: witty banter is still allowed, but maybe save it for after you've won. Or at least after you're not actively being poisoned. And four: always loot the bodies. I'm serious, that's just good business."
By the third day, his health had recovered to a more manageable level.
* Level: 4
* Strength: 21
* Dexterity: 17
* Constitution: 23
* Intelligence: 14
* Wisdom: 7
* Charisma: 14
* Luck: 5
* Health: 80/100
He felt well enough to travel, and more importantly, he remembered the reason he had come to the Shadowfen in the first place: the 1000 gold reward. He wasn't about to let a little near-death experience and a divine smiting attempt deter him from a payday like that.
"Alright, Clunky," he said, mounting his horse. "Let's head back into that swamp. We've got a job to do. And I'm not letting some crazy hag and a few disappearing villagers keep me from my hard-earned gold."
He rode back towards the Shadowfen, this time approaching from a different angle, hoping to avoid another encounter with the hag. He was much more cautious this time, using *Observe* and *Sense Magic* constantly, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.
He followed the trail he had found earlier, which seemed to lead deeper into the swamp. After several hours of slow and careful travel, he came across a small village built on stilts above the murky water. This must be the village mentioned in the quest description.
The village looked deserted. There was no sign of life, no smoke rising from the chimneys, no sound of voices. The only sound was the constant buzzing of insects and the croaking of frogs.
Drake dismounted, drawing his short sword. He approached the village cautiously, his senses on high alert. He had a feeling that he was about to uncover the truth behind the disappearances. And he had a feeling it wasn't going to be pleasant.