Wicked Marshes

[Yuna]

Possibly the single most repulsive part of the Swamplands, the Marshes are thick to the brim with mosquitoes and other vermin. Finding purchase is extremely difficult - the land is wet and slippery, while barbed plants always manage to scratch their way into traveler's ankles. Undead are usually seen roaming aimlessly, as common a sight as the poisonous insects and other nasty creatures that make their home here.

[Thief]

The journey to the swamplands has been an interesting one, to say the least. Cloud was silent for most of the trip, but he did speak up when someone asked him any questions. He had learned a few things about the others who were traveling with him, and he had even disclosed a few things about himself to them, but not too much. Cloud still wasn't exactly an open person to most people. It took him long enough to open up to Tifa, but then again, they had known each other since they were kids; he had only known these people for less than a month.

Upon their arrival in the Wicked Marshes, Cloud took a moment to survey the territory. According to the bill that Etoille had handed him earlier, the undead that were causing havoc, as well as the Nu Mou Necromancer that they were targeting, could be anywhere in this area. Cloud placed one hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice, and he was also prepared to use his Restore materia.

"Be on the lookout," Cloud said to the others as he slowly moved forward, remaining cautious. "We don't want them surprising us."

[Sephiroth]

Seymour stared in distaste at the bleak panorama. Fingers tightening on his staff, he silently reiterated his hatred of the wilderness and swamps in particular. True, he had managed to dress fairly appropriately -- a plain brown robe and tough leather boots -- but he hated even the necessity. The robe was too plain for him, and the boots hurt his feet. He was sure he had already developed blisters from the trek.

Still, here they were. He had spoken very little on important matters. Despite an appearance of friendliness, he had revealed absolutely nothing of himself. Happily, the time for talk was over.

He moved in after Cloud, placing his feet carefully and wincing at the squishing sound of his boots on the spongy earth. "Caution is commendable," he remarked, ignoring the plants tearing at the hem of his robe, "But I recommend speed. Powerful as I am, I am not a master of white magic. Once Miss Quadrillia's protection wears off, I cannot renew it."

The only good thign about the situation, he reflected morosely as he watched a swarm of midges, is that the insects had no interest in him. They were after blood, and the liquid in his veins was illusory.

[Cyric]

Cyric didn't mind the travel there. Funny, when not interacting with someone he has too much time to think, and that always leads down a dark path, but Cyric was never any good at small talk. This group he was in, these Newfolk, was actually pretty funny in a cynical sort of way. Cloud seemed like a shut-in, but probably had one hell of a story to tell if he ever had the mind to do it. Freya, the dragoon, seemed haunted by a past that could rival his own. Though she was of a race Cyric had never seen before, therefore her features unfamiliar, you would have to be dense to miss that kind of pain. Then there was Seymour, and well, he just seemed a bit odd to be honest. Very polite, very clean, but those were always the ones you had to worry about, right?

Cyric stepped carefully through the muck, making sure not to twist his ankle. The terrain made their progress rather slow, not to mention it takes a lot more energy out of someone to navigate these grounds.

"So Freya..." Cyric paused for a moment to pull his shoe out of the mud, "Think this bog will mess up those impressive leaps of yours?"

[Porom]

Freya was at the rear of the group, for reasons of both personal preference and practicality. Her lance was resting on her shoulder as she held it with one hand in order to keep the weapon within reach should she need it quickly, its point angled downwards towards the ground. Should they be attacked in this region, she reasoned, there would be little time nor convenience to prepare first. Thus she stayed behind at the back, in order to have the best view in front of them to ready her jump at an attacker.

Her mind having been on practical matters, she was taken aback by Cyric pausing and looking back to actually talk to her, the odd one out amongst these otherwise hume or at least hume-looking Newfolk. She looked up at him for a moment, her pearl eyes blinking, and then lowered the bridge of her hat again, only her snout visible as she returned to scanning the ground before she stepped.

"In my homeland, the rain was so common it very well could have been called constant. I'm fairly experienced adjusting my leaps for difficult terrain," she replied, but then grimaced as a barbed thorn caught the edge of her coat and she was forced to pause to try and untangle it without tearing it. She shook her head, sighing. She had been trying to look as though this was no issue at all and that rather spoiled the effect. "Though it does seem as though this place may put that to the test. This... Nu Mou, is it? They choose a strange home."

[Yuna]

There wasn't too much more time for chitchat, for as the group began to tread deeper into the marshes, the moans and groans of the undead could be heard. As though it were a well planned ambush, the shambling horrors approached in an odd fashion; two from the front, two from behind, each looking to take a bite out of the party.

The zombies themselves were in surprisingly fresh shape; though gore still hung freely from wounds across their bodies, they seem to have not taken the time to decay. Some of their teeth were still white, their flesh still clinging neatly to their bodies in places. They opened their mouths, clambering slowly towards the group, arms outstretched as they attempted to grab and bite onto anyone too slow to avoid them - a very possible occurrence, as the zombies were much less inhibited by the swamp that had hindered the party thus far.

[Cyric]

"Well that's good to hear. At least one of us can-" Cyric cut himself short due to a sound up ahead.

Sounding similar to some kind of throaty groan, sure enough, here came two of the most disgusting things Cyric had ever seen. With his adrenaline beginning to pump, he had little time to feel sick.

They're slow, but on this ground so are we, and from that sound I think there are more behind us. Best to use this distance now instead of trying to outpace them.

Cyric fell to one knee while pulling his rifle from the pocket on the back of his jacket. Reaching into a front pocket on the jacket he quickly began to fumble around.

What did they say there weakness was? Ah forget it, no time!

Cyric removed a faint glowing stone, his standard shot. Loading with ease from hours of practice, the man steadied himself, took aim and fired one shot towards the head of the zombie on the left.

[Sephiroth]

Seymour lifted his head, as his ears caught the sound of shambling bodies. Not quite as good as Lady Yunalesca's warrior monks, he thought, amused, as he studied the zombies. Apparently these necromancers had a fairs ways to go before the could match the subtle skill of Yevon.

"Well. Time to see just how strong they are." Two zombies in front; looking over his shoulder, he saw that there were two behind him as well. Four on four. Not bad odds. He lifted his staff, holding the rod before his face.

"Now, be released from your tortured existence!" The command echoed across the marsh as Seymour stepped forward (incidentally having a large rent torn in his robe). He brought the staff down to point at the closer of the two zombies, casting Fira on it.

Hopefully that would settle it, and Cloud could take care of the other.

[Thief]

As soon as he began to hear the groans of the undead, Cloud slowly pulled out the First Tsurugi, and continued to look around. Then, soon enough, he saw a couple of zombies in front of him, and upon hearing something behind the group, he looked back and saw the 2 behind them.

This isn't too bad, Cloud thought. This is likely just going to be a warm-up for what lay ahead of us, though.

Cloud turned his attention to the two zombies behind the group, and eyed the one on the right. At first, he considered moving in with his sword, but with the swamp hindering his mobility, he didn't want to take too much of a risk just yet. He needed to be ready for later. So, with that in mind, he decided to use his Restore materia. Cloud held up his free hand, aiming it towards the zombie that he was eying, and drew from that materia orb, casting a Cure2 spell at it.

[Porom]

A quick glance told Freya there was only one zombie unaccounted for. She would have to assume her companions would be able to hold their own with their initial attack. Thankfully, in Freya's case, she had been carrying her weapon at the ready all along, allowing her to slide it gracefully into proper position for attack merely by adjusting the way she was holding it. All she had to do was decide how to attack.

I mustn't commit to the air with undue haste, she thought, glancing around the area. Despite her assurances to Cyric, the number of suitable launching points were fairly limited and better rationed. But that only means I should stick to the ground for now. If this necromancer mayhap believe my spear's point any lesser for that... He will be sorely mistaken.

Tensing her legs, Freya propelled herself at the remaining zombie in a short hop, her lance flashing as she came in close. Though not a cutting weapon, by nature, it could suffice quite well with the right speed and angle applied by an expert. While she had doubts enough in many things, her pride was such that the knight had none when it came to her attacks.

[Yuna]

If one could call it 'surprise', that would certainly be the look on the Zombies faces as they were obliterated one at a time. Cyric's bullet flew true, and his mark fell with a nice bullet-shaped hole in its face. Seymour's Fira was more than enough to incinerate the zombie's decaying body, helped only by the marsh gases to increase the rate at which the creature roasted - letting out a smell that was none-too-pleasant (unless you had a thing for roasted rotting flesh.)

Cloud's Cure2 spell caused his target to go into something of a seizure, clutching its head in both clawed hands and letting out a pained moan. It fell to the ground writhing, disappearing beneath the bog. Finally, Freya, blade as true as ever, cleaved the last wretched thing right in twain, and he joined his friends underneath the marsh waters.

"Hiii hihihihihihihihihi" cackled a voice from somewhere ahead. "It seems", he began in a droning voice, like a constant yawn, "that I will have to step it up a bit for these travelers! Hihihihihihihihihihihi." Though the speaker could not be seen, he could be heard, and his chanting denoted a despicable kind of magick.

A small green light fell in the midsts of the group, exploding in a wave of sickly colored yellow dust. Whether or not the spell hit, time would tell, but any accomplished mage - or anyone familiar with magick in the least - could tell a Bio spell had just been launched. This was only a precursor to the real attack, as another wave of undead, these ones swifter - skeletons, armed with a sword and shield each - approached, 6 in number. Unlike the last, these all approached from the front. "Go my precious little things! Hihihihihihihihi!"

[Cyric]

Cyric gave a start as a voice rolled over the swamp. The young man stood and looked in all directions for a source, "Can anyone see-"

Catching a flicker of light out of the corner of his eye, he turned in time to see some sort of spell detonate. The magic did not seem intended to cause kinetic injury, but the burst was enough to knock an unsuspecting Cyric to the ground. Landing in the muck, Cyric cursed his inexperience.

I feel like dead weight. My comrades are veterans and I'm just a rookie. Hell, I'm just an engineer...

The Striker suit absorbed a bit of the damage from the spell, but Cyric felt a difference in his composure.

Some kind of toxic spell, meant to poison. I don't think my armor completely nullified it. Regardless, I can't worry about my health right now.

Cyric pulled himself up from the mud and looked to see six armed skeletons coming their way. Putting away his rifle, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his Slow Shot magicite. Drawing his two pistols and loading them, Cyric raised the weapons. Right as he did though, a quick bout of dizzyness hit him and he fired three shots towards the group of skeletons with little aim.

[Sephiroth]

Seymour grimaced and raised his arm, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve. And I thought the stench of this place couldn't get any worse ... next time I shall use Cura.

He did not have long to regret his choice of spell before another of his senses was assaulted. This time it was his hearing, and the aggressor was an annoyed laugh. At least, he assumed it was a laugh, and that the amateur they were sent to face was behind it.

Before he could do anything, such as respond to Cyric, a spell was cast. Bio, he thought with a sinking feeling. It looked a bit different from the Spiran version, but he knew by its effects that it was the same. Sadly, being Unsent was not enough to protect him from this kind of magical poison. His sleeve certainly didn't keep the magic out, so he lowered it and prepared for another spell.

"Sir Cloud -" he began, and was interrupted by the reports of three pistol shots. Ignoring them, he continued, "You might wish to have those antidotes on hand."

So saying, he raised his staff, swinging it to point at first one skeleton, than another -- Dualcasting Cure. He was hoping that they were weak enough to be dispatched by the simple spell -- it would make mopping them up quite simple. If not, well, he could not afford to keep double-casting so early in the fight.

[Thief]

The sound of someone's strange laughter caused Cloud to raise his sword, as he looked around for the source. Said source was not apparent. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the green light just as it exploded. Cloud brought his free hand up to cover his face, as he stumbled back from the burst, but it wasn't enough to keep the spell's effects from affecting him.

After some coughing, Cloud then saw the group of armed skeletons. As he was bracing himself for an attack, he heard Seymour ask about the antidotes. Remembering who was given the bag filled with them, he nodded, then turned to Freya.

"Freya, you have those antidotes?" Cloud asked. "We'll need some once we've dealt with these skeletons."

He then looked at the group of skeletons again, and eyed one that hadn't been targeted yet. Cloud decided that he might as well test his mobility in this swamp now, while the Protect spell was still active, and charged towards that skeleton. Once he was close enough, he brought the First Tsurugi up and swung it diagonally down and to his left, looking to slash right through his target if its shield couldn't block it.

[Porom]

Thankfully from her position in the back fighting one of the zombies at the rear, Freya had caught relatively little of the Bio spell, but it didn't take much to do its harm. Coughing, the Burmecian squeezed her eyes shut to stop them from tearing up at the terrible odor, which was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. The ones who called themselves Cloud and Seymour were right - they'd need those antidotes before long.

"Just a moment!" Freya called back in reply. One hand fell to the pouch at her waist, under her overcoat, feeling for the reassuring presence of several bottles within it. In order to distribute them, though, she couldn't stay in the back for much longer. "I'll have them there in just... one... moment."

She readied her lance, eying one of the spots she had identified at the start of the fight as good vantage points for jumping off of. A backwards hop brought her to that dry spot, and that was all she needed. The loose soil she'd leapt from erupted upwards and outwards from the force of the high leap, Freya herself sailing in the air above them, spinning and angling her trajectory to aim her lance downwards as she descended on one of the skeletons nearest to the group, intending to bring the point down with all of her momentum. From there, if it worked, she'd be near enough to give them the items.