Wicklow returns from work and reports that he has quit his job and he is prepared to join the band of adventurers. They decide to spend some time in training. He and Satan grab a couple of broom handles and spar. Sartan easily bests the young man, but Wicklow does show some aptitude. He is strong and reasonably dextrous, despite his lack of technical prowess.

While they are loitering about the town square, they are approached by Constable Dara Whitewood. She has known Wicklow most of his life, and is not keen on his going away with this group. Nevertheless, she knows of his desire to live a life of adventure. She bestows the gift of a chainmail shirt and a wooden shield. She is clearly misty-eyed as she bids Wicklow farewell and wishes him good fortune. She admonishes the team to watch over him.

The party decides to further test his mettle by going on a hunting trip the following morning. They travel a couple hours west into the wilderness, and find a likely location in a swamp. Utilizing Gothic G’s talents, they have the rag call in turkeys, while Wicklow readies his bow. It takes a couple of shots, but he does bag a bird.

Finding another spot takes them further into the swamp. Their trail wends its way between boggy areas and pools of stagnant water. The air is fragrant with decaying vegetation. Suddenly there is a commotion in underbrush and a wild pig charges at them from under a tree. It tries to gore Sartan but fails and continues running. Wicklow tries to take it down with a bow shot, but misses. Two more hogs emerge a moment later, and run amok amid the party members. One manages to gore Davros. In a fury he tries to kill it, but it eludes him. They manage to kill the other one, but a greater threat is immediately revealed. From under the tree, the source of the pigs’ terror shows itself. Preceded by a redoubled aroma of rot and decay, a shambling mound of leaves, vines, moss, and slime lumbers forth on stumpy but powerful green-brown appendages. Partly engulfed in this monstrosity is a squealing, thrashing pig. Hungry for more, this horrid thing moves ponderously toward the group. Wicklow fires an arrow at the creature, but in his haste and fear, he misses it entirely. It lashes out at them with massive limbs. Luckily it is slow and mostly inaccurate, for a direct hit may very well prove lethal. The adventurers attack it with blade and arrow and find that their efforts are mostly ineffective. Sartan realizes that to confront this monster is a dangerous risk and a waste of their resources. He recommends that they retreat. He is particularly insistent that Wicklow get behind him. He recognizes that the lad is no match for this green abomination. Mishok calls upon his god, Divoc for assistance. His prayer in answered in the form of a magical spray can of weed killer. This floating can of herbicide causes more damage than the many arrows have done, and the creatures gives up the fight. It trundles into a pool of of swamp water and disappears, gurgling beneath the green scummy water. The group crosses open water on a fallen tree, and they pause to regroup.