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Curse of the Swamp Hag


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GM

 

"Smugglers?" mused Thomas Dickens. "I know plenty of smugglers. Pick one... hmmm.... pick one..."

 

He snapped his fingers. 

 

"Biker Gang. The Chuggers. Work down south, just north of the border. They smuggle mexicans into the states, but not just that. Do you know how they take payment? Antiquities and artifacts. Incan, Mayan, that stuff."

 

"Lemurian," added Professor Amritage. "The Lizard race that predates humanity. Cruel enslavers, sorcerers. Lived in the jungle."

 

"Yeah, Lem...hmmm..Lemyoooran," repeated Dickens, mangling the word. "Anyway, they deal with all sorts of goods."

 

"Its a good place to start," agreed Armitage. "I don't know them as...ah... intimately as my protege here, but they are probably the single biggest smuggling operation for magical artifacts. Like most items in this business, it is mainly myth and bunkum. But every now and again, the snake oil is Lemuiran snake oil..."

 

He gave a little chuckle at his not-joke.

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"The Chuggers?" he frowned and scratched his head.

 

"Yeah I'm really out of my depth being halfway across the country, I think. I know the guys you're talking about, but they aren't major news where I'm from. They're lucky to get on page 7 of the Freedom Ledger." Why was a kid who looked like he was in High School reading a newspaper anyway?

 

"Well, that's okay. I'll follow your lead." he said confidently. "If they're doing bad things, smuggling in curses and the like, that definitely falls into Superhero Duties to stop it, so if you're good to go, then I'm good to go." He was actually pretty tired thanks to Dickens, but he was going to fake it until he made it here.

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Blackstaff

 

Blackstaff nodded when Dickens brought up the Chuggers.

“Yes, they would be a solid starting point. I can make a few calls, see if I can get a meeting one of their reps. See if they’ve had any ‘big spenders’, as it were.”

She looks aside at his office assistant.

“Lark, could to fetch me the little red book from my desk drawer and a new-“

“And a new phone.”

Lark finished his sentence. Blackstaff cleared his throat and gave her a nod.

“That backlash fried this one.”

She said pulling out an old flip phone. Opening it the smell of burnt electronics was noticeable. Blackstaff closed and tossed the phone to Lark, who caught it easily and left the room.

 

Turning her attention back to the others she smiled graciously.

“You’re welcome to stay for the time being. I’ll need to make a few phone calls before we can do anything. It would be pointless to run off without a destination. The library is across the hall, but be warned, Morrowind is very proud of her organizational skills and very protective of the collection.”

She waves in the direction of the stairs. 

“The kitchen upstairs is a bit sparse, but you’re welcome to what you can find.”

 

She looked to Golden Star and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you need call or return home, I can accommodate you. If you still wish to come with us, I think arrangements can be made to keep you from getting in trouble.”

 

Lark returned with the book and phone Blackstaff had asked for. She promptly began to search the book as she stepped out into the hall.

 

++++++

 

Later…

 

Blackstaff stood with the others in the lobby of his front office. On the front door, interlocking rings of script were scrawled in colored chalk. Beside the door a small dial was set on the frame with a handful of colored slices. A small golden arrowhead set at the top of the disc seems to act as an indicator, the dial was now set to the black slice.

Reaching into her jacket, Blackstaff produced a small brass key. Stepping up, she whispers something under her breath and the key glows. Reaching out with it, she touches the key to door and the glow spreads to the rings of script. She let go of the key but it stayed, tip against the wood. With a single finger she pushes the key and it sinks in like slipping into a lock. A moment later the key turns itself and a click is audible.

Blackstaff reaches out and turns opens the door to a street nowhere in either Freedom nor her Emerald sister.

“As long as the key remains in place, this door with bring us back here without problem.”

She looks back at the others.

“When everyone is ready..”

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GM

 

The town was small, hot, humid, built on swamps and marshes that slowly oozed into the Gulf of Mexico. 

 

Tezmolican, it was called in centuries past. It passed through dozens of colonial powers until they settled on Tezville. In those mad days of European colonisation, it was a home to pirates and smugglers. 

 

Now? it looked like the home to crooks, and broke crooks at that. As if New Orleans had dumped its beggars and burgulars into one small run down off shoot. There were bars, there were dives. Drunken Jazz bands played drunken tunes. Contraband of all flavours passed hands here, perhaps the only way the town had any economy at all. Yes, smuggling was alive and well in Tezmolican. 

 

And this was where the Chuggers operated, a biker gang that moved eldritch artifacts (and, more commonly, false artifacts) from smuggling ships to the rest of the states; and beyond. 

 

"The heat!" complained Armitage, wiping his brow with a white handkerchief. Tweed was not good in this weather. 

 

Edited by Supercape
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Michael had used his time while Blackstaff was preparing for the ritual to make many phone calls. He had to call his mom and explain he was out on 'Superhero Business', over in the Emerald Cities. Which was not an easy thing to get through, because that sent his mom into a series of very angry yells as he attempted to explain the situation. Eventually he managed to convince her that there wasn't much he could do about it and he was already here, so he might as well help get to the bottom of the reason he was here in the first place. This did not work on his mother, but there was no way she could come get him in any reasonable time frame, either, so she just had to accept it once he had talked her down a little.

 

The second had been to one of his friends at Claremont to ask them to make sure he got all the homework and lecture materials for tomorrow's classes, since it looked like he wasn't going to be home by then, he wouldn't like to have missed anything. He was clear with them too that while he was away on superhero business, he couldn't really talk about it right now and he'd have to explain later. Which sufficed for now.

 

Then he went and took a nap, because he was very tired. So by the time they had transported down to Tezville, he was just about ready for work. But he couldn't deny the heat himself, causing the material of his suit to stick to him as he ran a hand through his hair.

 

"...Yeah, this is a bit...moist. I can't say I was prepated for this when I got up this morning, it's still cold in Freedom." He said, looking around. "...I might be sticking out a bit like a sore thumb, but we can probably make it work."

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GM

 

Professor Armitage took off his tweed jacket and draped it over his shoulder. He linen shirt was already damp with sweat. 

 

"This heat... its unnatural. Global Warming? or something else... I am no meteorologist, but this smells more than just freak weather. Its not just the heat, either. Its the humidity..."

 

He patted down his brow. 

 

"An inhospitable place, to be sure. I dont suppose either of you are skilled in survival techniques or jungle warfare? And before you ask, no. That is not in my array of academic pursuits. Although by the looks of this place I should probably have brought my revolver."

 

"Or let me have that Golden Wreath again?" asked Dickens. 

 

"No!" said Armitage, firmly. 

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"I don't think it is likely to be global warming; the south-central to south-east area of the U.S. is actually more resistant to global climate changes than most other regions on the globe." Michael said, running his hand through his hair. "I think you're right that this is more likely to be some sort of other effect that's causing such heat...personally I'm not much for survival. I did some camping in the State Park a few times but nothing serious, especially not 'jungle survival' levels. But don't worry, I won't let you get hurt." he was very serious and very confident about that. But he glared at Dickens agian. "You are not having that Wreath again, I don't want to have to chase you down." he said, chastising a man who was significantly older than him. He at least didn't waggle his finger at him.

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Blackstaff

 

The calls she had made beforehand had set the target destination in the small town of Tezville. Beyond that though, they were going to have to do the footwork on their own.

 

The heat and humidity were intense, but bearable as Blackstaff crossed the threshold of the door, leaving his office in Emerald City behind. Looking back she gave Lark a nod.

“Watch the office. If something happens, I’ll call you.”

 

Lark didn’t look happy but nodded back.

“Just be careful.”

She closed the door and the vacant house the portal had connected to stood silent witness to the four travelers.

 

“Well then, we need to find the actual location of the Chuggers.”

She said confidently, wiping sweat from her own brow.

“We can debate the nature of the heat as we walk. I have a few leads, but it might still take some time. Watch your pockets, and your backs. Just in case.”

Blackstaff warned as she waved the others to follow.

 

++++++

 

Blackstaff’s leads took the quartet on a winding trail through several bars, an auto parts dealer, and a junkyard that was obviously a front for illicit activities.

Each time Blackstaff found it taking longer than necessary, being a young woman did not lend to being taken seriously but the types they had to deal with.

The others had their own limitations as well when it came to getting the answers they needed. But given enough time, the occasional influence of an old friend (specifically, Mr Jackson) loosened lips. In the end though, a few thrown punches and a small fire after someone attempted to convince the wizard she needed to ‘loosen up’ had the small group headed towards a chop shop near the docks.

 

As the party of misfit do-gooders approached the place, the old sign over the garage doors was half fade with several words painted through. What once read The Blackwater Auto-repair, now announced the location of ‘The Blackwater’. A variety of choppers and bike line the side-lot and littered the sidewalk in front of the shop.

As they approached, the weight of eyes and gun muzzles followed them. Some more openly than others.

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GM

 

There were about a half dozen bikers lounging around. It was too hot for leathers. Tank tops and vests, jeans, dark glasses were the order of the day. A few gloves, poking around engines. Tattoos, plenty. 

 

The apparent leader of the Chuggers - or at least this group of them, was a dark skinned man with long hair and an impressive beard, both flecked with grey. He was bare chested, but fat. A closer look-and one would see that he was strong, as well. He had more than a few scars, and a knife at his belt that said he wasn't afarid to get more. 

 

A few of the others had guns, but it seemed that fists and knives were more fun to the Chuggers. 

 

The leader spat out on the dust below him. 

 

"You been looking for us. Why?"

 

Professor Armitage hissed to Blackstaff, a low whisper. "I can protect myself against sorceries. But not bullets. I hope you can provide due protection..."

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"Don't worry professor, I'm...mostly immune to bullets." Michael whispered quietly to the professor before stepping up. He looked extremely out of place in his super-suit, with it's glittering cape and bright colors, but he spoke with confidence and as much charm as he could muster.

 

"My good sir, me and my compatriots are curious about the importing of strange artifacts into the States; many of them have been the cause of significant unrest in areas, and we were curious if you knew anything about their source. And perhaps about this terrible heat that seems to be enveloping this entire area." He gave his best, most winningest smile as he finished, but he was also straight up asking a member of a biker gang what they knew about criminal smuggling of cursed evil objects, while dressed as a superhero!

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GM

 

The fat man laughed. 

 

"Geddalowdofthis! I ain't no sir, and I ain't no good neither."

 

He spat on the ground. 

 

"Artifacts. Now we dont know nuthin about that. Sounds mighty fancy though, maybe you should go look in library or something?"

 

The Chuggers laughed. At least the good cheer made them less trigger happy. 

 

"We just good old community motorcycle enthusiasts."

 

He mopped his brow. 

 

"Although you do have a point about the heat. It ain't natural, thats for sure. What you know about it?"

 

The suspicious eyebrows were raised once more, and hands moved a few millimetres nearer knives and pistols. 

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"I'm afraid that I only know a little bit about the issues. As you can tell from my costume, I'm not exactly someone well trained in the effects of magic and magical arts, I've rather found myself caught up in quite the maelstrom. Would you believe that I don't even live here? Or anywhere near here? I've crossed the continental United States 3 times in the last few hours; I'm truly out without a leash!" he said with a laugh. "I have to assume the heat is coming from the same location as the cursed artifacts that have been causing quite a bit of trouble across the entire country, based on my limited understanding of curses and magic. So if you have any ideas, it could be quite helpful to get rid of this heat." He still didn't seem THAT concerned about the bikers attacking him, he was having a very nice, casual conversation with them, after all!

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GM

 

The Chugger's face softened a bit. "Heat? Yeah, it aint natural, and it aint right. I can handle me a dose of sunshine, but this..." he waved his hand in the air. "This ain't good for your health, right boys?"

 

The boys nodded and grunted in affirmation. 

 

"So I guess we could help each other out. A long as you don't go poking your noses where noses dont belong."

 

He spat on the ground again, but in a more cordial manner. Then, he stroked his chin-stubble and pondered the question. 

 

"Truth is, nobody rightly knows why its so hot. Come on all of a sudden. Plants like it, though, Everything growing. Seems like the swamp this filty town is built on - seems like the swamp is coming to swallow us up, with this damn heat!"

 

More nods, more grunts. 

 

"This town got more history than even Mr. Tweed over there..." (he pointed at Professor Armitage) "...could learn about it one lifetime. Aztec sacrifices, Pirates, Witches. No place better to pick up some disease or curse. Usually a curse that causes a disease. Tezville can eat a man up, like that, it can."

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Blackstaff

 

“Just stay behind me if things go sideways.”

She reassured the professor.

 

Blackstaff watched as Goldenstar spoke to the Chuggers. The kid proved he had a knack for diplomacy, it would come in handy for him later in life.

The bikers seemed the settle down as they talked. The heat was bearing down on them and she had had to ditch her coat. She ignored the looks a few of the men gave her.

 

Stepping up beside Golden she looked up at the head biker.

“We appreciate your help. With the number of dubious artifacts coming into the states, it’s possible one of them is responsible for this heat.”

Blackstaff wiped sweat from her brow.

“The bayous are already rife with magic of their own. Magic we have no intention of poking, like drunks with a swamp gator.”

She agreed.

“We only intend to alleviate the problems that have arisen with this influx of ‘foreign’ influences.”

She met the man’s eyes.

“Influences you may want to reconsider aiding in the future, less some swamp hag or root doctor gets tired of them and decide to deal with it in their own ways. I’ve heard some down here still practice hoodoo and make use of zombie dust.”

It wasn’t meant as a threat, but a warning. Some magic wielders didn’t take kindly to disruptions.

“You help us, we help you. Then we’re on our way and out of your hair. I think that’s a fair deal.”

Blackstaff holds out her hand.

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GM

 

"Zombies? Pffft! I ain't ever seen no zombie. And if I do, I'll shoot its damn head off..." replied the Leader. 

 

There was an awkward pause. The fat leader swallowed, and turned to the other gang members. 

 

"Get the shotguns, guys. Just to be sure. And check the chainsaw works."

 

He turned back to Blackstaff and Golden Star. 

 

"We can help you. I mean, its in our interests. Community minded, we are. Look, we have sometimes... ah... seen some stuff. Stuff that might get smuggled in via the docks. I don't know if thats what you are looking for. But if you can wait till nightfall, we can show you where the smugglers set in. Its a couple of miles north. A pirates lair, you might say."

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"Docks, huh? At nightfall? Sounds like a good plan to me." Golden Star said with a nod.

 

"And of course, if you, yourself aren't doing anything illegal, we have no qualm with you, and I certainly haven't seen you doing anything illegal currently." he smiled. "So, I am more than happy to let you show us where that 'Pirate's Lair' is, and we can get all this handled. No Zombies, no more nasty heat, no more cursed treasures, none of that." he said calmly.

 

Michael was not calm on the inside. He was definitely going to miss curfew. He was supposed to get pizza with Sam tonight, and his Mom was probably going to expect a call. While the Superhero in training, with his immaculate smile and his good lucks, was cool as could be like he'd done this a thousand times before, the teenager inside was not having a good day; missing curfew was bad, but what was even worse was that he was probably not going to be at his best the day after either! He had a test tomorrow! But the Superhero did not panic. A Superhero wouldn't panic.

 

"I look forward to seeing this hidden locale."

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GM

 

And so...

 

...at the hidden cove...

 

It was an hours drive buy chugging motorcycle, and five of the chuggers chugged there. 

 

Teleportation and flight were available for superheroes, of course. 

 

Fat Fatboy, the leader of the Chuggers, was packing - just like the other four bikers. Knives, Glocks, and Shotguns. And Fat Fatboy had brought a chainsaw. He was clearly not fond of zombies. And, as he explained, Tezville had plenty of legends. Aztec human sacrifices brought to life, for starters. 

 

The sun dipped slightly, but the heat remained. If anything, it was worse - the humidity was overpowering. 

 

It made no sense. 

 

The cove was built onto rock by the ocean - and yet somehow, the swamp had engorged this area. Turgid swampwater drained into the ocean. 

 

"I don't see how this is geologically possible..." said Professor Armitage, stroking his elegant beard. 

 

Fat Fatbody pointed to a rather neatly concealed Cove, two hundred feet away, covered in twisted trees and swamp flora. 

 

"There it is, suckers. Dropped off there. Pirates. Smugglers. Maybe worse."

 

The rest of the way could not be reached by bike. One would have to wade, knee deep (or worse), through swamp...

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Michael was absolutely not going to be wading through anything. He had a fresh white supersuit- which was admittedly becoming less fresh the hotter it got- and he did not have the money for intensive dry-cleaning. So he flew along with the bikers, and when they reached the swamp, he intentionally floated several feet above the murky water, wiping his face with a dry rag that he'd picked up in town while they were waiting as they surveyed the swamp.

 

"That has to be bad for the ocean and the creatures in it...much less everything else. This is...disturbing." he struggled to find words for it, because fhe truth was this was a logical abomination based on what he knew of how the environment worked. He looked at Blackstaff, which meant looking down because he was floating over everyone.

 

"So this is the stuff magic can do? Just like...literally make the impossible possible? That's incredible. Even the Earth's ecosystems bends to the will of magic..."

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Blackstaff

 

“There are still many mysteries in the world, but this-“

Blackstaff said as they looked out across the swamp.

“This is squarely within the domain of magic.”

She turned her attention in the direction of the cove at Fatboy pointed it out.

 

She had managed to time their arrival close enough to the bikers’, though none of them were armed like the locals. To be honest, she wasn’t sure would trust Professor Armitage with any kind of firearm to begin with. Mr Dickens, maybe. The golden boy? He hardly seemed to need one. Though Blackstaff still wasn’t exactly sure what the kid could do.

“Most likely also a byproduct of the cursed items.”

She glanced at Golden Star.

“With luck we can fix this and this heat in one fell swoop. Most things will bend to magic, if it’s strong enough. The problem is the tension it produces, like a spring. Things wants to return to their natural states, so you have to beware not to be caught up in it if the magic snaps and lashes out.”

 

“On foot from here it would seem. I hope you aren’t too attached to those pants professor. I don’t think any amount of dry cleaning with save them after this.”

She chuckled and looked to Fatboy.

“I don’t suppose you know the easiest path out to the cove?”

She asked, the larger man shaking his head.

 

Blackstaff turned her attention back to the swamp again and sighed.

“I don’t want to chance teleporting. Who knows what interface we’d hit.”

She looked thought with a curled finger on her chin.

“So be it.”

She declared and stepped forward to the edge of the muddy waters. Holding out one arm she shook her wrist, exposing the bracket of linked shield. She bag an to murmur softly and the bracket glowed pale blue.

With her other hand she looked to press and smooth the air around her. After minute she fell silent but the bracelet continued to glow. Blackstaff looked back over her shoulder and smirked.

“Single-file kids.”

With that, she stepped forward and the water compressed under her foot. A few more steps and she stopped to look back.

Under her feet, the in-fact wasn’t actually touching her. A slightly curved plane of force  created a kind of floating bridge. The wizard stood smugly waiting, ever so slightly bobbing as the water lifted and sunk the ‘bridge’.

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GM

 

The bridge held, and held wonderfully. In single file, the chuggers, the Professor, Mr Dickens and the two superheroes crossed it. 

 

To either side, weeds, fetid water, and various swamp wildlife. Frogs, beetles, flies. Strange things squirming in the black water, barely in sight. 

 

"This ain't natural" said Fatboy Fats, chewing his lip and clocking his shotgun. "I mean, we got swamps all over in Tezville, but not like this. And a hundred feat from the ocean? This ain't natural. Not natural at all..."

 

He gave a guilty gulp and looked at Blackstaff. "We dealt with some spooky stuff coming in from the coast this winter. And Tezville has always had spooks. But, things have taken a turn. Bad turn. This is magic, ain't it? And not the nice kind?"

 

Blackstaff was the first to notice an increased agitation of the black waters. An increased squirm in the depths. Then a burst of fould bubbles that released a noxious fume into the air. 

 

Then, a burst of GIANT TENTACLES!

 

It was hard to count. Maybe two dozen, each as thick as a mans forearm, full of suckers, writhing chaotically, blindly. 

 

But effectively!

 

The chuggers were taken up, grappled by the horrific appendages. Fatboy was held twenty feet in the air, firing his shotgun madly at..

 

at what?

 

The tentacles stretched down to the blackest of the swamp water. It was hard to see if anything was down there at all. 

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Blackstaff

 

Blackstaff walked along confidently. She lead the small group as they passed through the swamplands, her force bridge keeping them all afloat easily.

 

“No, it is most assuredly not natural.”

She agrees.

“Yes, yes. This is magic, thought there is ‘bad magic’, this in itself isn’t ’bad magic’ simply misused.”

 

“Perhaps, in the future, if something ‘unnatural’ happens again you should call someone. I’ll leave you my card we this is over.”

It never hurt to attempt to drum up some extra business. Lark would say she wasted the opportunity if she didn’t mention it. But then his office assistant was the business major.

 

The dark waters reflected the light, glimmering here and there as things both tiny and large moved under its surface.

Something caught Blackstaff’s attention it was swift and sudden.

“Look out!”

She cried as the water roiled and exploded, spraying everyone as a mass of tendrils grabbed at them from all sides.

Later she would swear it was her smaller frame that allowed her to barely slip past tentacles as they snatched the air where she had been standing only a moment ago.

The sound of gunfire echoed across the swamp as Fatboy pump shell after shell into the watery darkness.

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"Can I have a card too? I have no idea what to do about Magic, so if I ever run into magic I'd love to have someone to call, even if it's just a consult from accross the country." He said. 

 

But while he was paying attention, he wasn't quite able to see the writhing shapes under the water the way Blackstaff did, and when the wizard called out, he was slow. The tentacles moved in to grab him, and he was slowly processing that.

 

Then his brain clicked on right before the tentacles lashed him, and he moved so fast he left trails of sparkling stardust behind him as he weaved around the lashing tentacles in the air.

 

"Blackstaff, can I hit these things? Like, can I punch them!?" He called in concern, looking at the Chuggers that had been grabbed.

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Blackstaff

 

“They seem solid enough, by all means punch away.”

The wizard shouted as she found herself at the edge of her ‘bridge’. Backed into a metaphorical corner now the wizard called on more magic.

“Vitrufeugo.”

A lash of magical flames spring forth from Blackstaff’s hand. With a flick, she lashes out at the closet tentacle holding a biker.

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"You got it! Time for pummeling the crap out of some tentacles!" he declared as he continued to dance around between the tentacles. He aimed at the one currently holding Fatboy and pulled back his fist, then flew forward quite fast and throw a massive, sweeping overhand punch at the tentacle to try and make to tentacle let go of the gangster.

 

"I'm coming for the rest of you soon!" he called out to the other Chuggers. "As soon as I get him down!"

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GM

 

Blackstaffs mystical magic flamed into one of the tentacles, running up and down its oily skin. 

 

"Ouch! Help!" screamed the biker in its grip, before the tentacle started to BURN AWAY!

 

Was it full corpreal?

 

In any case, it dissolved into ash in the blink of an eye, and the biker belly flopped into the swamp water with a scream. 

 

Golden Boys fist split the tentacle in half. In a moment, it too had evaporated - this time into an oily sludge. Fatboy screamed as he was also deposited in the foul swamp water. 

 

In a moment, the other tentacles had retreated to the black depths below. Bubbles - noxious, rank bubbles - arose from back depths of the swamp. 

 

Fortunately the other four bikers had been deposited back on the bridge. But Fatboy and one of his chums were sinking...

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