Thormun's Journal - The Swarm of the Marro Scenarios

My boot splashes into standing water and is sucked downward by the spluttering mud. The water is murky, an awful shade of rancid-green with a smell to match. I glance down at my slowly sinking foot and my eye catches on a floating object bumping itself up against my leg. Some itch in the back of my brain has me stoop over to make a closer inspection. I lift it slightly out of the water, the clinging algae drips away, and then I drop it in gut-wrenching horror. A bloated arm lies there in the dim pool, lurid, and streaked with blue veins. I take a step backwards and look over the water’s surface. More of the same morbid bits bob their way around the stagnant puddle. The dead surround us, left here to rot in the mire.


Before I can even begin to react to what I’m seeing, a new terror seizes me. I stand transfixed, as a pale arm reaches itself up out of the slime. Raelin screams. Raelin, who is always unmoved in the face of battle, always brave, always bold, is now gripped with fear. A dripping torso pulls itself out of the water. Then another body emerges, and another. It is as if the dead rise from their slumber to rejoin the living. But these are not the faces of the dead. These macabre faces belong to the marro. They’ve hidden themselves among the corpses of their previous victims, laying in wait to ambush us.