The road north eventually dissolved into softer ground.
The change was gradual at first—patches of darker soil, reeds growing thicker along the edges of the road, shallow pools of water reflecting the gray sky above.
Marshland.
Imoen wrinkled her nose.
"Smells like something died here."
Branwen stepped carefully across a stretch of damp ground.
"In marshlands," she said, "something usually has."
Encouraging.
Ahead of us, the road narrowed until it became little more than a muddy trail weaving between clusters of brush and half-submerged stones.
Rasaad slowed slightly.
"The rumor placed the creature near flooded ruins."
"Of course it did," Xan muttered.
"Because nothing good has ever lived in a flooded ruin."
I glanced toward the newest addition to our group.
Minsc walked with the relaxed confidence of someone who expected violence to happen eventually and had already decided he would win when it did. Boo perched comfortably on his shoulder, whiskers twitching as the little creature surveyed the marshland.
I knew exactly who he was.
The others did not.
Branwen's grip on her mace had not quite relaxed since he joined us. Xan had been watching him the way one watches an approaching storm. Even Imoen had kept a careful distance.
Fair enough.
A towering stranger who spoke to a hamster was not the sort of ally people accepted without questions.
Best to ask before the tension grew worse.
"Minsc," I said, "since you've joined us, perhaps we should know who exactly we're fighting beside."
The ranger did not slow his stride.
"Less talk," he said firmly.
"More fight."
Boo squeaked from his shoulder in agreement.
Minsc nodded once.
"Evil awaits."
He glanced back briefly.
"After the ogre falls, there will be time for stories."
Fair enough.
The smell of stagnant water thickened as we pressed forward.
Then the trees began to thin.
Beyond them lay a shallow basin where murky water pooled across what had once been a homestead.
A collapsed wooden roof jutted from the swamp like the broken ribs of some buried animal. Portions of the house had sunk completely, leaving only warped beams and sections of stone foundation visible above the marsh.
Someone had been busy decorating.
Belts hung from the rafters.
Dozens of them.
Leather straps dangled from broken beams. Some were wrapped around tree branches. Others had been stretched between poles like banners fluttering gently in the wind.
Imoen stopped beside me.
"…well," she said slowly, "that's unsettling."
Branwen studied the scene grimly.
"This creature has made a nest."
Xan folded his arms.
"I hate to be the one to point this out, but the belts suggest the rumor may have been accurate."
Something moved in the water.
A pale shape lurched forward from behind a broken wall.
A ghoul.
Its gray skin stretched tightly over bone as it dragged itself through the shallow water.
Another emerged behind it.
Then a third.
They moved with stiff, jerking motions as they shuffled into the clearing.
Each one wore belts.
Multiple belts.
Wrapped around torsos. Arms. One had three belts layered across its shoulders like a grotesque sash.
Imoen blinked.
"…is that one dressed up?"
A deep voice boomed from somewhere behind the flooded structure.
"YES."
Something enormous rose slowly from behind the ruined house.
The ogre stepped forward into view.
And immediately it was clear this was no ordinary brute.
This creature stood straighter.
Its eyes gleamed with something disturbingly close to intelligence.
And its body was covered in belts.
Belts wrapped around its waist. Across its chest. Around its arms like trophies. One long braided strap hung like a ceremonial sash across one shoulder.
The ogre sniffed loudly.
A long, exaggerated inhale.
"Hmmmmmm."
It turned its head slowly toward us.
"Travelers."
It sniffed again.
"Adventurers."
Another sniff.
"Leather."
It pointed a massive finger in our direction.
"YOU have belts."
Imoen leaned toward me.
"Please tell me we're not negotiating with this thing."
The ogre raised one massive hand toward the ghouls.
"COME."
One of the ghouls shuffled forward obediently.
The ogre gestured dramatically.
"SHOW THEM."
The ghoul turned.
Then began stiffly pacing back and forth through the mud while the belts draped across its body swayed with each movement.
Xan stared.
"…I regret every life choice that led me to this moment."
The ogre spoke proudly.
"This one wears triple-stitched saddle leather."
It tapped the ghoul's chest.
"Very durable."
The ghoul turned again.
Shambled.
Turned.
Walked.
Imoen whispered, barely containing laughter.
"Oh my gods."
The ogre inhaled again deeply.
"Yes… yes… new leather present."
It leaned forward eagerly.
"You bring belts?"
It spread its arms grandly.
"If you give belts… you may pass."
The pause that followed was remarkable.
Minsc stepped forward beside me.
Boo peeked out from his shoulder.
The ogre sniffed again.
"Yes… strong leather smell…"
Minsc folded his arms.
"Ha!"
He pointed dramatically at the ogre.
"You sniff for belts, but Boo smells something far worse!"
He raised Boo high.
"EVIL!"
The hamster squeaked loudly.
Xan rubbed his temple.
"…of course he did."
The ogre blinked slowly.
"Evil?"
It tilted its head.
Then shrugged.
"Maybe."
It gestured toward the belts hanging from the ruined beams.
"But belts are important."
It ran one thick finger reverently along a strap across its chest.
"Fine leather… strong buckles… the craftsmanship."
It sniffed the belt lovingly.
"Magnificent."
It looked back at us eagerly.
"You have one like this?"
Branwen stepped forward, mace lowering into her grip.
"Your obsession ends today, creature."
The ogre frowned.
"Hmm."
It sniffed again.
Then something in its expression shifted.
A moment of confusion passed across its face.
"…strange."
It tapped its temple.
"I did not always think like this."
The ogre glanced at the belts hanging around the ruins.
"Before… belts were just belts."
It frowned again.
"But recently…"
Its eyes brightened suddenly.
"They became beautiful."
It smiled proudly.
"Important."
Xan murmured quietly beside me.
"That cannot possibly be a natural intellectual development."
The ogre raised one arm.
The ghouls stiffened.
"You bring belts… or you join collection."
The ghouls lurched forward.
Branwen lifted her mace.
"Helm guide my hand."
Rasaad stepped beside her calmly.
Minsc grinned.
"Boo agrees."
He lowered the hamster gently back onto his shoulder.
Then drew his sword.
"For justice!"
Xan sighed deeply.
"Of course the undead are immune to my best spells."
He raised his hand reluctantly.
"Very well."
A faint shimmer of magic gathered around him.
"Let us try this the difficult way."
The ogre spread its arms dramatically.
"DEFEND THE BELTS!"
The ghouls charged.
And the swamp erupted into chaos.