He followed the lyvern's flight through the swamp, his progress slow but steady as the muddy waters parted reluctantly before his brute strength. For once he didn't take his mer form, wary of lingering Void corruption in the environment, and having no desire to breathe the silty sludge that passed for streams in the Feverlands. His trident helped him steady himself when he had to pass over boggy islands and sections of land held together by rambling roots of half-dead trees.
Thalassa had been badly hurt when he had last seen her, and concern twisted through his chest, driving him on as he ascended out of the bog and onto drier ground. 'Dry' was a relative term here, but the passage was easier... at least until the ground dropped away ahead of him, the stink of hot tar and decaying vegetation - and meat - rose to overpower the usual stench of ripe decay in the area. Finally the Tidebreaker wrinkled his nose, pausing to look out over the Tar Pits with a grim set to his jaw and his breath coming shallowly, reluctantly, though his mouth rather than his nose.
"Thalassa?" he called into the thick blanket of fog that lay over the treacherous black pools that stretched out before him. "Where are you?"
Thalassa had been badly hurt when he had last seen her, and concern twisted through his chest, driving him on as he ascended out of the bog and onto drier ground. 'Dry' was a relative term here, but the passage was easier... at least until the ground dropped away ahead of him, the stink of hot tar and decaying vegetation - and meat - rose to overpower the usual stench of ripe decay in the area. Finally the Tidebreaker wrinkled his nose, pausing to look out over the Tar Pits with a grim set to his jaw and his breath coming shallowly, reluctantly, though his mouth rather than his nose.
"Thalassa?" he called into the thick blanket of fog that lay over the treacherous black pools that stretched out before him. "Where are you?"
