Swamp of Death

CHAPTER 1

At a crack of dawn, whilst the first rays of light came above the horizon, a small, yet packed caravan of few wagons, began its journey from Gollvin. This mining town was the most northern colony of humans in Tanmar, a highly dangerous, vicious swamp. Hidden maze of sharp edged cliffs, deep inside the rocky mountain of Laorn, protected this mining community from many dangers. But the isolation from the other human settlements, took its toll on the brave people of Gollvin. 

 Planting crops in this hard, porous soil was futile, somewhat wasteful. Very few animals could survive this harsh environment. Lives of miners depended on every caravan and every wagon they'd send towards the south. Yet despite all the odds, they managed to survive. Food reserves were almost depleted after a long, and harsh winter. Thus dictating their need for sending a shipment this early in the year. And there, far away to the south, a magnificent port of Vallsynk was the destination for all their caravans. The arrangement with merchants was everything but fair, yet the only way of making their livelihood even possible. 

 Hard, almost impossible conditions would seem staggering for everyone, but not these brave men and women of Gollvin. Leaving their homes, town and mine, was out of the question. Their pride was that strong. Blood, sweat and bones of ancestors laid the foundations to secure Gollvin's existence. Generations upon generations of brave men and women were inseparably bonded to these mountains. Here to stay, forever. 

 Heavy carts, full of precious ore, creaked through the massive, steel-reinforced, wooden gates, on their way out. Hundreds of worrisome, frightened family members and closest friends, escorted them almost a full mile outside of the town. Everlasting goodbyes halted the caravan's departure for almost an hour. The fear impelled them to prolong leaving. Not at all surprising, because of the constant threats throughout and all over Tanmar. The deadly swamp was unforgiving. 

 At last, after some time, the caravan could finally proceed with its journey. The last of the folk that escorted them this far, had turned back home. Muddy, narrow road, full of bends and turns was one and only route to the south. Twisting and winding, like some kind of a snake, all the way to the lake Kabial, and the port of Vallsynk. This magnificent trading center was the eventual destination of all Gollvin caravans. With perhaps their most valuable cargo in many years, miners had high hopes for their approach to strike a new, better deal, with merchants. But foremost, it was necessary to go through Tanmar safely. 

 This dark, bleak swamp, this wild and inhospitable territory, full of dangerous beasts and creatures, was the everlasting subject of dispute amongst orcs and humans. Some sort of buffer zone between the regions, which borders would change, sometimes as often as the seasons. Hatred towards each other, deeply embedded in their genes, ensured the constant conflicts. The discovery of riches beneath the surface, only amplified that. Last war had ended over two decades ago, but despite the truce, distrust imposed a heavy presence of soldiers on both sides of the border. 

 To warrant the expenditure, the military had begun providing the security mission details for convoys that shipped ore out of Gollvin. Occasional attacks from the orcs never induced any major conflicts, their sole purpose was to cause unrest. And for those cunning councilmen from the south, that was something they knew how to exploit.