Welcome to My Home (MORE-sus)

Inside the Morsus Swamp

Written by J. L. Gryphon

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Ambient sounds courtesy of tosha73 and EminYILDIRIM

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An excellent choice. One you will not regret, I assure you. Here we are, then, at the entrance to my home. You will notice the sun has gone away, but pay it no mind. Turn around, and you can still catch a glimpse of it peeking through the trees, just there.

The Change

by Martin Winkler from Pixabay

See? Nothing to worry about. This place is called The Change, the transition point between the jungles of Rhye and the beginnings of the swamp. If you look down at your feet, you will see a hard black line of shadow. All you have to do is step over, and you will be inside the swamp of the Morsus. Come along. Step over, and . . .
Oh. You want to know why there is such a place? Hm-hmm. Little humans jumping about with their pestering little questions. I forgot how young humans are, even when they’re old. Very well.
If you were to ask my sister, she would say The Change serves as a visual warning for those stumbling too close to the swamp. The Choice Law requires the option of . . . turning back before you tread too far, so to speak.
I, on the other hand, see The Change as something of a growing map, an outline for the future, if you will. I can see my sister’s point, though. The swamp does indeed have its dangers, of course, but what place doesn’t? And since you have chosen to enter, well . . .
*yank*
Oh! Something seems to have just jerked you forward! Are you all right?
Something stung you? Like thorns biting into your skin? Well, I can’t imagine what that might have been, but these things happen. Turn around again and look at the sun if it makes you feel better.

The Edge

by Harmony Lawrence from Pixabay

What? You can’t see it now? Oh dear, you must be getting on in years. How long has it been since your eyesight started failing you? They do say a human is born, lives, and dies in the space of a yawn. Perhaps we are coming to the end of another one. Can’t be helped, I’m afraid.
In any case, it seems you are now quite inside my home. My Master bids you welcome.

"Visitors!
Master has visitors!
Visitors for the Master."

Ah, yes. Those are the voices of the swamp. Can you hear their whispering already? Pesky little fleas, honestly. Nothing like the remnants. Nothing like me. You can’t talk to them, can’t reason with them, certainly can’t philosophize with them. Dull things. Only care about their next catch. Don’t worry, though. I’ll keep you away from them. You deserve far better.
Don’t follow the yellow lights . . .
I don’t do this for everyone, but since you were such a willing visitor, allow me to present you with a map:

by J. L. Gryphon via Inkarnate

I think it’s pretty. Don’t you? My Master has done quite a lot of work with it, I think. It has definitely grown since the beginning. So has The Child for that matter.

The Child

by jplenio from Pixabay

Who is The Child? Hm. Typical human asking the wrong question. The right question is what is The Child?



. . .

. . .

. . .


Why are you staring at me? I never said I was going to answer you. I will tell you something that amuses me about the whole thing, though.
Come closer.
Closer . . .
Good.
Listen now, when I tell you that The Child is a mystery to even the dragons. They don’t understand him. They don’t even know The Child has grown. That frightens some people when I tell them that, because of course the dragons know everything. So the saying goes:

“Dragons remember the dawn of the world because they were there.”

—Some stuffy undine scribe who caught a lucky break and wrote one good line in an otherwise unglamorous career.

But, as much as they would like to pretend otherwise, the dragons are not gods. They don’t, in fact, know everything.
Remember dragons lie.
That said, I . . . hmm. Perhaps in this one instance, we might forgive them for not knowing. I sometimes wonder if . . . even he understands the nature of things. My sister has said a few things that . . . well, I have had doubts, but . . .

The Grove

by Brigitte makes custom works from your photos, thanks a lot from Pixabay

Ah! Get out of my head!
Sorry about that. It’s the birch trees singing again. They were here before my Master began growing the swamp, a seemingly innocent little grove that has since become a cancerous tumor. Fortunately it seems to be mostly benign for now, but the one who tends it is—
Never mind.
On that note, though, can you hear anything? Anything at all?
No? Good. Very good. Onward, then, shall we? I want to leave this place.

Kelpie Lake

by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay

No, I don’t want to go to the Kelpie Lake, either.
Don’t. Ask. To. Go.
Why? Because the kelpie has been something of a nuisance, truth be told. There was another visitor a hundred years ago he helped esca—I mean leave. Meddling horse. I do wish I could grab his throat and . . . no, he wouldn’t let me get away with that. Or at least he wouldn’t have. But I can’t hear the birch trees as well as I used to. I wonder what that means. Could I?
Hm? What? You’d like to leave? Was it something I said?
Oh, don’t be boring like that. We were having fun. Come on. We can grab a boat, sail down the River of Rhye, and reach my home. Because of course the swamp itself is my home, but don’t think I just sleep in the bog. Of course not. My home is just on the other side of the web weaver nests, the old ruins where all the remnants were born.
You could meet my Master. He would love to meet you, and . . .

An Uninvited Guest

by J. L. Gryphon via Artbreeder

Ah, Azrael. How is the Star of Death today?

Leave them alone, brother.

I wasn’t going to do anything to them. Not unless they chose it. That is the law, of course.

They want to leave. You have to let them.

No I don’t. They chose to enter here. That was all they needed to do. You and I both know it’s finished after that.

Really? Then why haven’t you killed them yet?

Killed them? Dramatic as always. You really think I would engage in something so base?

You haven’t killed them yet because you can’t. You may be able to trap them here, but that’s all. They want to leave now. You might as well let them. Your game as been spoiled.

Has it? I was just presenting them with the option, in fact.

Let them go, Learza!

Only if they want to. Look at you not respecting their choice. Tsk, tsk, sister.

Fine. Those below, you have a choice. He’s right about that, at least. Here it is, then: I am not bound by the swamp as you have made yourselves. Do you choose me? I can save you if you let me. All you have to do is say yes.

All you have to do is say no . . .

Yes

No

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Date of First Recording

14857 NS

Date of Setting

1 FS

Related Locations
Rhye
Related People
Meet the Narrator
Vānima Anastil
Related Organizations
The Cult of Azrael

The Morsus Swamp

The Morsus Swamp

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