Through the Swamp is a modified playthrough of the game Over the Mountain. Support the original creator!
Part 1
Meet the Swamp and those that live there.
Helpful links at the end.
The Swamp
Many years ago, the Swamp was a peaceful place; the ecosystem lush and the people and beings that resided there lived in harmony. The communities that resided in the Swamp knew the land like the back of their hand, working with the Swamp's ebb and flow to live their lives happily and safely. To outsiders, life in the Swamp seemed hard, but to anyone familiar with it, it was serene and worth any hardship they had to endure.
The Swamp waters swished with the whispers of those that once lived there and the twigs crunched under feet that were not quite man or beast. The Swamp watched over all that lived there, keeping the balance and protecting those that protected it.
The lush Swamp flora and fauna naturally drew the attention of many and, eventually, with those curious wanderers came a corruption that changed the tides and silenced the Swamp.
Few families that are in tune with the Swamp still remain and it is up to them to learn what ails the Swamp and cure it of its affliction.
Nyssa Gardenii
Nyssa Gardenii is the daughter of Clyde and Mirtha Gardenii, who come from families that have lived in the Swamp for as long as anyone can remember. Like many of the other families around, the Swamp is part of who they are, integrated into their very way of life. Unfortunately, Nyssa is the only one of her family to remain in the Swamp and she must learn to navigate the ever-changing landscape and spiritual weave with a few notes from her missing mother and the help of her wary neighbors.
Nyssa, much like her mother, is particularly good at dealing with plants of any kind, both earthly and immaterial. She has a near photographic memory of the earthly kind and is learning those of the spirits with the notes her mother left behind. Once attuned to a plant, she can sense what it needs and in the event she cannot provide that, she can either use her own energy to coax it back to life or sacrifice what remains for the good of the Swamp.
The Neighbors
This section will be expanded with links as Neighbors appear.
Locations
This section will be expanded with links as Nyssa visits locations.
Extra Information and Links
Everything in this blog belongs to me.
This includes not only the writing but also the photographs and art featured. On the odd occasion that something does not, the source will be linked visibly.
It was muggy out—because it was always muggy out—and Nyssa's thin, cotton church dress clung to her body most uncomfortably. She didn't have to wear her Sunday best, as Papa called it, often, but today was special.
They never went to church, despite Papa's groaning about it, so Nyssa only owned the one church dress. It was beige, with ugly green polka dots, a silly non-sense belt, and a bow around the waist. It was tight in the middle and around the shoulders—how something could have puffy sleeves and be too tight, Nyssa didn't really know—and she found herself pulling on it constantly.
As the man up front droned on, she sat in the hard, uncomfortable church pews, kicking her feet idly as she tried to find anything remotely interesting to look at.
"Mirtha couldn't make it?" An old, plump lady slid into the pew beside Nyssa's Papa.
"You know how she is with these things," Papa responded and the old woman scoffed.
"She'll go to Hell if she keeps actin' like that—don't go lettin' her take you and the baby with her." The old woman hissed out, her voice piercing despite being barely above a whisper.
Nyssa tried to act like she wasn't paying any attention to the adult talk, but of course, fear prickled her spine at the image the woman conjured.
Nyssa gulped as her Papa said something back that she couldn't hear—the man upfront had gotten louder—but her Papa's tone didn't sound too nice.
She focused on the pew ahead of her, eyes tracing the wood grain as the man at the front of the church went on and on.
And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off.
The wood grain swirled down the pew. It dipped and curled, interrupted by a harsh slash where the wood was joined, and brown, bubbling glue dripped from the seam.
Nyssa narrowed her eyes at the seam, following it down, down to the floor.
And if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out.
She inhaled deeply through her nose as the man up front intoned, but her eyes followed the ridges of the hand-hewn floors, a dark stain arising from the pew in front of her.
For everyone will be salted with fire.
The stain morphed and turned before Nyssa's eyes, growing larger and larger until it spread below her feet, which dangled just above the floor.
be at peace with one another.
The man up front ended, but the dark spot grew and grew and Papa and the old woman whispered.
It seemed to bubble and brew, like one of Mama's concoctions, and heat rose and blistered Nyssa's bare calves.
Her eyes widened as the darkness reached further. It climbed up the leg of their pew, inched onto the bench, and grew closer and closer.
She shifted away quickly, a small noise leaving her lips as she scooted toward her Papa.
"Hey—" Her Papa started, raising his arm to accommodate her at his side. "What's wrong, Nys?"
Papa's voice seemed to make the darkness recede and Nyssa tore her eyes away to look at her Papa and the old woman.
"It's the word of God," the old woman nodded matter-of-factly.
"I reckon so." Papa nodded along, a pleasant smile on his face as he looked down at Nyssa.
Prompt:
pareidolia // the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern. example; in an inkblot test, or shapes in clouds
Note: I have been working on this project very slowly, but was inspired to write this piece earlier. :) I will likely have more random tidbits from Nyssa's past or side characters as the story unfolds.
Nyssa returned home, clutching at her newly acquired pendant with a smile etched on her face. She'd left the salve behind for when Anne Rose returned, with a little note letting her know what it was and thanks for the pendant.
She’d had quite the day and was looking forward to some calming tea on the porch while the last of the fireflies flitted around and lulled her to sleep.
Darkness seemed to settle quickly and Nyssa chalked it up to her long day making her lose track of time.
She set the kettle to boil on the stove, picking through the cabinets for a perfect mug for the day. In the very back, a bit dusty, her fingers brushed over a roughly glazed mug. The sensation took her by surprise and Nyssa stood on her toes to reach back further and pull the mug out.
Upon seeing it, Nyssa's eyes lit up, a breath drawing from her lungs.
She grinned as she turned the mottled brown and purple mug in her hand. It had a funny-shaped handle and a roughly carved heart on the side. She flipped it over, a smile growing as she saw the inscription.
To the best Mommy in the world. Love Nyssa
Nyssa held the mug close to her chest, taking in a deep, steadying breath as tears sprung to her eyes.
She missed her mother dearly.
This would be the perfect mug to close out her day.
She poured her tea and it swirled dark red in the lumpy mug, shimmering as it mixed with honey.
Nyssa made her way out to the porch, grabbed a shawl to cover her shoulders on the way out the door, and extinguished the porch light as she settled into an old creaky rocking chair.
Nyssa held the warm mug in her hands, holding it close to her chest, and thought fondly of the warmth her mother once brought her.
She sipped gently at the hot liquid, letting the mug linger in front of her face, allowing the sweet aroma to calm her senses.
There were only a few fireflies still left, but they flickered on and off, drawing Nyssa's eyes across the wooded area in front of her house as she listened to the frogs and cicadas duel for sound dominance.
It was peaceful, and even as Nyssa finished off her tea, she still held the mug in her hands tightly.
She'd begun to drift off when she heard the crack.
She startled, an undignified snort leaving her as she sat upright.
Her eyes scanned the dark, settling on a large bush before deciphering what it was, then moved on to the next eerie shadow.
Then she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes, the bramble rustling as something emerged.
The clouds broke, allowing the moon to cast a silvery glow across the forest floor, and Nyssa's breath left her.
A tall, lanky figure rose, a body like a shadow, shifting and turning before Nyssa's very eyes. Antlers grew from a great, angular skull, as the creature tilted its head almost as if it were looking at Nyssa with a curious gaze.
Nyssa's heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling around the mug as she sat frozen in the rocking chair.
The thing took a step closer and Nyssa began to recall stories.
The Old One, the one that roamed the Swamp.
He would come to take you if you angered the Swamp.
She gulped in fear and it took another shifting step forward.
Nyssa's teeth rattled in her skull and her limbs felt like lead, but she tensed her jaw and held the mug tightly to her chest, the ceramic clinking against the wooden pendant around her neck.
The creature stopped, head twisting even further to the side before it snapped to look in another direction and Nyssa could see the long, protruding bone snout that made up the creature’s face.
With its attention off her for the moment, Nyssa readied herself to bolt.
She stood from the rocking chair and it shot backward, banging hard against the side of the house. The shawl from her shoulders fell, forgotten across the bobbing chair as she ran inside.
The screen door screeched and snapped shut with a loud rattle as Nyssa bolted inside.
Nyssa scrambled to lock the door, the measly bolt and chain weren't likely to stop the creature if it actually wanted inside, she knew that.
She grabbed up the large jar Mother always kept by the door, uncorking it with shaky hands, then sprinkled the contents across the threshold.
She scrambled to the kitchen, flinging open Mother's glass cabinet. She didn't know what exactly she was looking for, and she cursed herself for not learning her mother's craft more thoroughly, but she finally spied a tiny tin labeled warding.
She snatched the tin out, flipping it open to find a single sachet inside. It was sealed shut and Nyssa didn't know if it was for burning, brewing, mixing, or what. But she was willing to take her chances.
She made her way back to the kitchen, freezing momentarily as he heard a thunk on the front porch. She had to stop herself from looking out the front window, terrified of what she might see.
She found Mother's old burn bowl and she scrambled for the match box.
She dropped the sachet in the bowl, praying to whatever was listening that she'd made the right choice.
There was another loud thunk on the porch and a sob threatened to bubble up in Nyssa's throat.
She struck the match and there was a long, slow scratch at the front door.
She dropped the match in the bowl and the little paper sachet instantly went up in flames.
The fire cracked as the mix of herbs and spices inside caught fire.
Nyssa's senses were instantly filled with that of warmth and safety, and her shoulders relaxed minutely.
There was another thunk on the porch, this one harder, heavier, but not violent.
Hesitantly, Nyssa picked up the little bowl. She recalled that when Mother did things like this, she walked the bowl and the smoldering fire around the room, chanting words of comfort, but she did not know if they did any good.
This would have to do.
Nyssa took shaky steps, careful to keep her eyes on the fire and what was in front of her. Her free hand went up to hold the pendant around her neck and she thought of the three women's protective embraces.
There was the sound of movement outside, and the front steps creaked loudly with weight.
Nyssa's teeth still chattered as she closed her eyes and momentarily saw the shape of the creature again.
"It's gone." She reassured herself, but she didn't let the bowl go.
She carried it to her room, holding it in her hands, and let the fragrant smell of the burning herbs fill her room and her lungs before she gently set it off on her bedside table and drifted off to sleep.
Rolls & Stats
Components: 3
Location: N/A Home
Neighbor: 19. Spirit that is actually a cryptid
   - Interaction Success: 2. Poorly
Item: 14. Item that brings a smile to your face
Event: 11. Sudden insight or realization
After eating her lunch peacefully at the river, Nyssa decided to return home to muddle the leaves from Milouse.
Nyssa cleaned herself up upon returning home, then made the paste. She portioned out the salve in a few jars—one to keep at home, one for on the go, and two to give to her neighbors.
There was still plenty of time in the day and Nyssa decided to take one of the jars to her neighbor Anne Rose Philippe.
Nyssa made her way over to the eclectic little home and stopped on the porch to admire one of Anne Rose's newest carvings before she knocked on the door.
When she knocked, no one answered. She knocked again and waited for a few minutes.
Finally, the door creaked open slowly, an abnormally cool breeze wafting over Nyssa and beckoning her inside.
Nyssa paused outside the door, a chill running over her.
For a moment, she felt a presence—heard the soft whisper of Carine Myrtil's voice and the scent of the woman's earthy perfume.
"Hello?" Nyssa called out softly as she pushed the door open further.
She didn't get a response, but slowly made her way inside the house.
"Is anyone there?" Nyssa called again as she made her way towards the back of the house and the small, familiar kitchen.
The house was filled to the brim with paintings, carvings, and other art—with a row of carved dollies sitting on a shelf and staring Nyssa down as she made her way through the living room.
Distracted, Nyssa bumped into a shelf, causing a cacophony of carvings to clatter to the ground and break apart.
"Oh no!" Nyssa shouted, kneeling quickly to pick up the mess. The old wooden carvings were splintered, most of them unrecognizable now that she'd shattered them apart.
"I'm so sorry, Anne Rose!" Tears sprung to Nyssa's eyes as she gathered up all the little wooden pieces. "I didn't mean to." She said to no one, sniffling as she put the pile of carvings on the shelf.
Behind her, she heard a faint whisper.
"That's alright, deary."
The voice didn't belong to Anne Rose. It was gentle and kind, and Nyssa would know it anywhere.
Nyssa whipped around, knocking the shelf again as she did, and the already broken carvings fell again.
But Nyssa was searching the dim room, looking for the source of Carine's familiar voice.
In the doorway to a room, Nyssa saw the faintest glow and she gulped.
"Miss Carine?" She questioned and she heard the familiar chuckle of the old woman.
"Surprised to see me, dear?" She tutted, "You should know I wouldn't be too keen to leave my Swamp or my love behind so quickly—besides, I have unfinished business!"
Nyssa gasped again, blinking as the blurry figure approached. Slowly it became clearer, revealing to her the short, stout figure of Carine Myrtil. She looked younger than Nyssa remembered, looking more like she had when Nyssa was a child than she had when she passed on.
"What do you need to do? Do you need my help?" Nyssa asked, and the spirit shook her head.
"I can handle it myself—well, with the help of Annie." The spirit whisked around Nyssa, going over to the shelf with the broken items.
"These are older than you, you know." The spirit tutted, then laughed as guilt crossed Nyssa's face.
"I really am sorry…" Nyssa's lip quivered, missing her friend and feeling bad for Anne Rose.
"Don't worry!" Carine's spirit chided her. "They're just trinkets."
"But Anne Rose works so hard on her art…" Nyssa warbled out.
"And she has plenty of time to work on more!" Carine assured, but Nyssa wasn't convinced.
The spirit emitted a soft humming noise, the form shifting from a more solid one, back to something more incorporeal.
"Wait!" Nyssa gasped out, reaching out for the spirit.
Quickly, it morphed back into Carine's form and the woman shook her head at Nyssa.
"Don't go bossing me around!" She tutted again before shifting back into a glowing mist. "Follow me, dear."
Nyssa didn't hesitate, following the spirit into the bedroom.
"I believe there is something here for you—check the vanity drawers," Carine instructed. "I'd do it myself, but I haven't quite got the hang of moving things around just yet."
Nyssa nodded, looking in the drawer Carine instructed.
Inside Nyssa found a little package with her name written in Carine's neat handwriting on top.
"Sorry, I missed your birthday, dear. What are you now? Sixteen?"
Nyssa giggled, but tears sprung to her eyes as she pulled the box out of the drawer. "Twenty-two." She corrected and Carine let out an exasperated sigh.
"You kids grow up so fast these days! Slow it down, or you'll end up like me!"
Nyssa laughed—even in death Carine was a pleasure to be around. Nyssa hoped Carine would stay around for a while and she made a point to remember to visit her again soon.
"Well, go ahead. I don't have all day." Carine seemed to tap her ghostly foot, impatient for Nyssa to open her gift.
Inside the little box was a folded letter and a wood-carved pendant. Nyssa picked up the pendant, running her thumb over the smooth back as she looked at the carved front.
An intricate carving of a Cypress tree was on the front, with a splash of color dabbed into the recesses, giving the tree foliage a soft glow.
"It's beautiful," Nyssa breathed out as she sat the box down and put the pendant over her head. It nestled in between her collarbones, a cool weight on her warm skin.
"Glad you like it, dear." Carine cooed and the room's temperature seemed to drop as the spirit grew closer, inspecting the pendant around Nyssa's neck. "It suits you so well!" The spirit clapped.
Nyssa took the note out next, unfolding the soft paper to reveal the writing in not one, not two, but three different handwritings.
Happy Birthday, Nyssa. I can't believe you're already an adult, much less twenty-two. This is a gift from the three of us—Me, Annie, and your mother. We love you.
The first part was in Carine's handwriting, what followed was in Anne Rose's chicken scratch.
Happy Birthday, little one. This piece of Cyprus is over one hundred years old. We hope you can carry it with you for a hundred years more.
The next bit took Nyssa's breath away. Her mother's familiar, flowery scrawl was next, and Nyssa's free hand went to clutch the pendant as she read it.
Darling Nys, you are such a smart girl, and I couldn't be prouder of you. This pendant, ancient and filled with our love, should protect you from harm. The Swamp wills it.
And as Nyssa brushed her thumb over the pendant, she could feel the love, care, and protection etched into it.
Rolls & Stats
Components: 4
Location: 7. Neighbor's Home - Anne Rose Philippe’s Home
   - Additional roll for Neighbor: 4. Human who makes art - Anne Rose Philippe
   - Interaction Success: 1. Terribly
Neighbor: 14. Spirit of someone who recently died - Carine Myrtil
   - Interaction Success: 6. Perfectly
Item: 3. Item that is handmade
Event: 8. Find a note for or about you
After Nyssa returned the journal to Merle, she headed over to the Choit Boueux to take her lunch. She settled in under one of the trees that provided shelter over the wide river and pulled her little lunch from her bag—a leftover piece of cornbread and a thermos of black-eyed peas. As she pulled it out she realized her hands were awfully dirty and the handkerchief covering her wound was already rather tattered.
Carefully, Nyssa made her way down the steep bank of the river to wash her hands and clean her wound, but on the way down, she slipped in the clay banks. She let out a loud yelp as she slid down the rest of the way, but managed to stop herself just before she slid into the water. The cascading mud disturbed the water and kicked up muck from the bottom, dirtying the water Nyssa was going to use to clean her hands.
On unsteady legs, Nyssa pushed herself up and went a little further up the river.
While she cleaned her hands in the cool water she heard a rustling in a nearby pile of sticks. Worried it might have been a nutria or a gator, Nyssa was on guard, ready to scramble back up the bank and out of the creature’s territory.
Out from the sticks popped a head of tangled blonde hair.
Nyssa startled backward, slipping in the mud again with a gasp, but she recognized the slim figure as Milouse Jules, the strange daughter of Jean Louis and Alexandra.
"Oh!" Milouse's face, once of grinning excitement, morphed to one of shock. The young girl scrambled over, sticks and twigs poked from her rat's nest of hair, and mud covered every bit of her clothes. "Oh! Missus Gardenii!!" She called out as she quickly helped Nyssa to her feet.
"I didn't mean to startle ya! Are you alright?" The girl panicked as she helped remove muck from Nyssa's clothes.
"It's fine!" Nyssa smiled, she was already dirty anyway.
"Maybe!" Milouse squeaked out, her sun-bronzed cheeks turning a scarlet shade. "But maybe I should repay you! I should be more mindful of who may be around."
"There's no need for that," Nyssa assured, but let out a flinch of pain as she brushed her unbandaged hand across her pants.
This didn’t go unnoticed by Milouse. "Uh oh, are you hurt? Did you fall on something sharp?" Milouse looked around the ground, looking for the offending stick or mussel shell.
"I got this earlier today, actually." Nyssa shook her head, bending down to re-rinse her hands. "I have another handkerchief to wrap it in, don't worry."
"But you should do more than just that!" Milouse gasped. "Wait here, I think I may have something."
Milouse scrambled back across the bank and toward the pile of sticks. She disappeared inside of it and Nyssa waited patiently for her return.
Finally, Milouse returned, holding up a bundle of bright green leaves out to Nyssa.
"Here! I found these earlier today. They spoke to me! Told me I would need them for something like this—and here you are!" Milouse grinned as she spoke. "Please take them."
Nyssa marveled at the sight and slowly took the leaves.
"These have great antimicrobial benefits!" Nyssa gasped out. "Where did you get these?"
Milouse continued to grin but shrugged quickly. "I found them across the ridge, over by the church. You should take them!"
Nyssa gladly took the leaves and put them in her bag, taking out her spare handkerchief to wrap her hand. "I will grind them into a paste later, this much should last quite a while!"
"I'm so glad I could help!" Milouse smiled but seemed quickly distracted by a thought. "Oh! Do you want to see the cool bugs I found today?"
Nyssa never turned down the opportunity to look at cool bugs and carefully followed Milouse over to her twig and stick fort. Nyssa remained on the outside, but Milhouse ducked in and emerged quickly with a handful of dead bugs.
"This one I haven't seen in a while!" Milouse cooed at the shiny carcasses. "And have you ever seen a dragonfly so purple? I think it will make a great addition to my collection!"
The assortment of bugs Milouse held was extraordinary, and it along with the leaves the young girl gave Nyssa, made her think that perhaps the Swamp was on the mend, calling in creatures that they thought had been long gone and pushing up plants no one had seen in years.
"Fascinating!" Nyssa beamed. "I will have to see the rest of your collection one day—I'm sure it's very impressive!"
Milouse nodded quickly, giving Nyssa a toothy grin. "Yes! That sounds great!"
"But for now, I should be back up the bank—I'm famished."
"Oooh," Milhouse gapes, looking up at the sky to gauge the sun. "Yes, Mama will want me home for lunch too! It was so good seeing you, Missus Gardenii!"
Milhouse returned the bugs to her hideout, offering to help Nyssa back up so she could return to her comfy tree and eat her lunch.
Rolls & Stats
Components: 4
Location: 18. River - La rivière Chiot Boueux
- Interaction Success: 3. Mediocre
Neighbor: 7. Human with a quirky hobby - Milouse Jules
- Interaction Success: 5. Good
Item: 17. Item that gives you hope
Event: 11. Sudden insight or realization
The morning was chilly. Fall was settling over the Swamp and giving the good people there a reprieve from the humid heat of summer. Nyssa's morning began slow, and after her morning coffee, she gathered up her supplies and set out for the day.
Today, Nyssa would visit the Ruins. She had not been there since Mother had departed and she wondered if it was still barren of spirits and if the barrier between this world and the next was still calloused over with inky black magic.
Nyssa arrived to find the ruins much as it had been the last time she'd come; the marshy land was an off-putting gray, and each step through the ruins was one of risk, with the remains of the weaponry and armor of those that fell there occasionally poking through the mud and making themselves dangerous obstacles.
Nyssa was careful, remaining on the paths that Mother taught her, heading across to the area she knew best in order to listen to the whispers of those who once fought there.
On her way, a strange object poked out of the pathway. Unlike many of the other things embedded in the mud, this still held a sheen, promising a reflective surface if only the grime and moss were wiped away.
Nyssa picked up the object, holding it between two fingers and inspecting it. Whatever the object was, it was sharp and it sliced neatly into Nyssa's palm. She let out a loud yelp of pain, dropping the object back into the muck.
Nyssa wiped away at her wound, grabbing her water bottle and pouring fresh, cool water over the gash in her hand.
From a distance, Nyssa heard a clean accent cut through the morning fog.
"Is all alright over there?"
It was Merle, she recognized, and from behind a tree, the thin old man made his way over quickly.
"I'm fine, Mister Merle, just a little cut is all," Nyssa reassured as she wrapped her hand in a handkerchief and went to more carefully pick the object back up.
"Found yourself a nasty cut, I see," Merle commented with a playful tone as he too inspected the object in Nyssa's hand.
"Any idea what this could be?" Nyssa asked, holding the object out.
"No idea, there, missy!" Merle grinned, wagging his finger. "But I reckon you can figure that out."
"I think I'll take it home and research it some more. I'm not sure if it belongs here or not—it doesn't fit in with any of the other items I've seen here before." Nyssa commented, going to stick the object in her bag.
At this, Merle seemed to blanch, shaking his head at Nyssa. "You would take away from the ruins, missy? I thought your mother taught you better!"
"Oh." Nyssa hesitated, Merle's disapproval cutting as deep as the object had her palm.
"Now, I understand you want to find out what it is, but you'll just have to do your research here." Despite his disapproval, Merle reached into his back pocket. "I'll lend you this—it's a log of all the items found here before. Check it thoroughly!—if you find it in there, add the information to the log. If not, well, head to the end of the book and add in a new entry—and don't muck it up!"
Merle gave her one last stern look before folding his hands behind his back and meandering back the way he came.
Nyssa, heading Merle's words, found a comfortable and safe spot to sit and opened the little field notes to look for the item she found.
After about an hour of scouring the notes and carefully inspecting the item, Nyssa found it in the journal. It appeared to be an old-fashioned rocking knife, made of a strange metal that didn't seem to rust. The notes in the book said that they were a popular tool among the camp cooks at the time, as it was a job often handed down to those who had previously sustained an injury in battle and it was easier on their bodies to use.
Nyssa added neat notes to the end of the section on the knife.
Despite Merle's warning, she slipped the knife into her bag, keeping the book in hand as she went to find Merle to give it back.
Rolls & Stats
Components: 4
Location: 19. Archeological Site - Ruins of the Fallen Soldiers
- Interaction Success: 1. Terribly
Neighbor: 10. Human who runs a Location - Merle
- Additional roll for Location: 15. Makeshift Shrine - Name TBD
- Interaction Success: 1. Terribly
Item: 12. Item you're unsure what it's for
Event: 9. Someone lends you a book
