To the barren salt swamp

After being chewed up by bugs and attacked by some giant swamp monster you figure a change of scenery to someplace with a lot less life is in order. You follow the map south towards the barren expanse of the salt swamp. A mile or two of flat, grassy plains separate the stinking swamp you are leaving behind from the quiet salt-water marsh you are approaching. You make sure to hunt down a freshwater spring to refill your water before continuing on to the salt swamp.

The waters here are so rich with salt that white salt encrusts the roots of the salt grass and the few, pale kelp beds that inhabit the water. You wade out into the water as a gray mist descends over the eerily quiet landscape. You use a long walking staff to test the waters ahead of you and in this way, despite the disorienting fog, you make good time. A few standing rocks are marked on the map, along with a tower belonging to the "truth guardians." You head towards that, since it's about the mid-way point through the salt swamp. It's nearly dark and you should make camp.

The tower is an old stone tower fort on an island of land in the swamp water about a hundred feet across. There is no roof in the tower, but the walls will provide you some protection and if you get a fire going that will keep you warm through the night. You use the last light of day to gather salt grass and a few dried-out logs to use to make a fire. You pile it all up and get a roaring blaze going.

It becomes cold in the darkness of night, but other than the occasional bird sounds you don't hear anything much. You manage to fall asleep beside the fire. You're not sure how long you are asleep, but your eyes flick open late into the night and you know there are people nearby. You can hear heavy, limping footfalls on the ground. The fire has died down to a few embers and you don't have anymore material to make a torch.

Just as you reach for your blade a figure shuffles into view through a hole in the tower wall. It is a ragged-haired man dressed in rags. You would almost mistake him for being alive, so well-preserved is his pale flesh, if it weren't for the huge hole in his ribcage exposing a gray heart and organs. Most grotesque of all, his lifeless prick is huge and erect, swaying above enormous gray balls as he shambles through the night.

The creature's eyes seem to glow in the darkness and you feel a chill run down your spine. Behind this creature you see others of his kind. Maybe just two more, but there might be many more than that in the darkness of the salt swamp.

The creature sees you and groans and begins to shamble towards you.