Marsh Woz

The Wozes

"Pick up what lies about, and one day what lies about will pick you up."No one knows where the Wozes come from. Residue of old magic, a spell digested by time, the leavings of a working that never took: the theories pile up, and none stands on its own. What is known, however, fascinates zoologists and mages alike: a Woz becomes what it absorbs. It takes on the color, the smell, the virtues, and the poisons of its surroundings, so that two Wozes born of the same slime, parted long enough, end up strangers to each other. It has neither fang nor claw; it envelops. It finds you by your breath, and your breath is what it wants: it reaches the nose, the mouth, and blocks them until nothing passes anymore. Everything it has swallowed tumbles through its mass, so its wounds do not bleed, they fester. Whatever does not breathe holds no interest for it, neither the dead nor automatons, and more than one necromancer keeps one at the mouth of his lair. Finally, once it has hold of you, your worst danger is the eager friend who strikes the jelly to free you, and finishes you through it.
Every Woz is a portrait of its surroundings, and its surroundings tell you what to fear.

The Marsh Woz

The densest and heaviest of the Wozes, a compact mire no light can enter. Only a strange movement gives it away in the sodden vegetation. Your feet sink, then you realize you no longer touch the bottom: it is already climbing your legs. It has no need to smother you; it uses the quicksand to bear down with all its weight and drown you. In a marsh, test the ground before every step.