Saladrin studied his surroundings, the nervousness he felt deep in his gut was plainly evident on his face. His companions seemed to be intact, they had all weathered the attack by the giant fog bank without a scratch.  Even the raft floated calmly as if not even the slightest ripple had disturbed its passage.
Saladrin eyed the giant cypress trees rising up out of the water all around them to reach towering heights above.  Each of the huge trees were supported by what looked like twenty or thirty giant roots that rose from the water itself, each root being as thick as any normal tree back in Mordentshire.  The roots’ grey bark was wrinkled and infested with white, grey or green lichens.  About ten feet above the water’s surface, the roots of each tree combined to form the main trunk, a massive column of living wood fifteen feet thick.  The few branches that existed at the lower levels were mostly dead claw-like things which were nearly all covered in thick green moss or choking lianas that hung back down to the water’s surface.  Far above Saladrin’s head, the giant trees bloomed into a massive green leafy canopy, only a few breaks in the covering could be seen from which the brilliant blue sky and oppressively hot sun showed through.
The trees were not the only vegetation in the swamp.  Impassible clumps of bushes and broad leafed plants grew upon tiny islets.  The islets were the only thing Saladrin could see that might have passed for land.  However, the surface of these islets were so packed with thick vegetation that it seemed impossible a person could travel upon these on foot.  Even so, the islets were only fifty or sixty feet in diameter so they really didn’t go anywhere at all.
Here and there, Saladrin could see large clusters of fallen black logs, either piled up on the shore of the islets or clumped together in huge log jams in the water.  Some of these log piles supported thick growths of moss or even smaller trees.  A pile of logs very near the raft was the home of a giant plant nearly seven feet tall with a large red flower as big as a man’s head hanging from its top.  As the raft floated slowly past, Saladrin detected the foul stench of rotting carrion emanating from the bright red bloom.  This was only a slight distraction from the odors of the swamp.  The smell of decay and rot hung thickly in the hot and humid air.
Saladrin could hear the sounds of strange birds and the occasional hoot or screech of something he guessed was a monkey, though he could see neither bird nor ape.  Gnats, flies and clouds of other insects billowed about and tended to land on any exposed skin, biting painfully if given the chance.  The buzz from these insects created a constant drone in his ears.  A dragonfly the size of Saladrin’s forearm suddenly swooped down from a moss-laden branch near the raft, the giant insect skimmed the water’s surface then flew into a copse of small trees on an islet nearby.
The water of the swamp was murky and black, what mysteries lurked within its depths the priest cared not to think about.  Saladrin couldn’t see the bottom, but judging by the amount of Rubix’s long pole that was still visible above the water, he guessed it could only be a few feet deep.  How solid the bottom was, remained a mystery to the priest.  Thin tendrils of mist were everywhere, obscuring any of the distant features of the swamp and baffling any attempt to get a sense of direction.  Saladrin saw no notable landmarks or any sign of human habitation whatsoever.  By all accounts, they seemed to be very much lost.
Saladrin remembered a traveling healer he had once met in the Mordent monastery.  The healer’s name was Bimferd and he specialized in using leeches to remove a patients “ailing humors”.  Bimferd had talked about how his supply of leeches came from a swamp were they could be found in astounding numbers.  The healer had said that a person could be sucked dry wading through swamp water if they weren’t careful.  Saladrin thought the raft seemed to be the safest bet for now.
Saladrin searched his memory and all of his years of schooling at the monastery to figure out where they might be.  The swamp that Bimferd visited was just south of Mordent in the domain of Valachan.  He supposed that it could be that swamp, however considering that it was just beginning the cold winter season in Mordent, he found it quite unlikely that the temperature could rise so drastically over such a short distance.  Saladrin sighed in frustration, he didn’t know of any other place that could possibly be this dreadful place, nor did he know of any other place that could be so hot while the rest of the world was wintery cold.
Saladrin’s gaze passed over the other three members of the expedition.  Each of them were just as silent and wide-eyed as he.  As the priest regarded the curly haired scholar standing on the opposite end of the raft, he suddenly remembered her cry of danger just before the fog bank hit.  How had Celestia known they were in danger?  She must know . . .