Yet another sort of creepy arena. Who doesn’t love those?

Name: The Gargling Fen

Size: Several square miles; a massive swamp surrounded by uninhabited marshland. 

Properties: 

[indent]1. The Fen exhumes a sickening odor and colorful, gaseous clouds from its bubbling mudpits that spreads across the full scope of the swamp. Visibility is restricted to only about ten foggy feet throughout the swamp, and standing near one of the many mudpits renders one almost entirely blind. If one finds oneself breathing in the fog for too long—a minute to several, according to one’s fortitude—terrifying hallucinations take hold of dancing figures and twitching talons in the dark.

2. Many old demon hunters have stalked the Fen, camping for months at a time in the search for low-level demons and monsters of all sort to creep into their crosshairs. There are a few abandoned camps left in the forest, either from hunters that have run off or have been eaten, their supplies untouched. Each camp contains rope, a few tents, a dead firepit and several rusting swords and rifles. There are also a few abandoned homes up on stilts containing kitchen knives, a hunting rifle or two and basic home accoutrements. 

3. While the living dangers of the swamp are potent, the truest killer is the pits of broiling muck so thick that being pushed into one without a way to pull oneself out is practically a death sentence. Even characters of great strength can be sucked under in their struggles.

4. The gas clouds are neither toxic nor flammable, the trees and vegetation have average durability, and the land as a whole is very flat, albeit mangled by gnarls of underbrush and interrupted by bodies of water both wide and thin.[/indent]

Player Capacity: 2-20, maybe more

Description: 
[img]http://th04.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2010/273/e/5/swamp_by_polyraspad-d2zsqhz.jpg[/img]

Flavour Text: No inexperienced traveler dares turn their gaze toward the Fen: a great green island among seas of cutting sawgrass and knee-high muck. Demons stalk the Fen’s stagnant pools and shadowy understory, striking at any time in howling celebration at yet another fallen fool. When they cannot conjure up a physical form from the mud and wood, they possess the boars, the insects, the reptiles; snakes of immense size and beetles larger than wagons are not uncommon in such a vicious, ever-shifting ecosystem. Daytime has no meaning to the ground-dwellers, as the trees are so thick above that little sunlight penetrates the overwhelming green. Visitors to the Fen will find no respite at any time of day, as the dangers never rest. They only wait.