Ian hadn't been in the swamp for long before he felt something was wrong.
He looked down. The ground beneath his feet had become soft, making a SQUELCHING sound with every step.
Through the grayish-white mist, he could faintly make out many crooked, withered trees standing in murky puddles of water.
Dark-red vines hung from their trunks like strands of clotted blood.
Ian was about to go around them. Suddenly.
"Rustle... rustle..."
A faint scraping sound came from the swamp to his left.
He stopped at once, suppressed his presence, and silently scanned the area.
The mist swirled slowly, and a "plant" about the height of two men "stood up" from the swamp.
It had a humanoid silhouette. Its main trunk resembled a twisted torso, with branches like arms. Instead of leaves, its top was a mass of dozens of slender, dark-red tentacles that writhed ceaselessly.
