Swamplands

Cackling

In wetlands of Tykonia, there are green pools often mistaken for algae or brine—though these are in fact the lairs of Cackling. This substance is of dull green and rests as specks amongst aquifers and groundsprings, rising to shallow pools with the heat. The minerals are extremely brittle, and as the sun rises, they begin to dissolve, filtering up as a misty green-gray gas. This, along with the porous nature of the rock, makes it hard to harvest—with prospectors attesting that even one careless movement can cause the mineral to burst. 

The gas released by minerals rests no higher than neck-height on a man, and is laden with noxious danger, causing a great deal of irritation, as rashes and blisters, upon any flesh that it is exposed to. What’s worse is that when inhaled, these malignant effects travel not just into the lungs but also the brain, bringing hallucinations that further obfuscate the respiratory damage. Victims report mostly incomprehensible visions of color and distortion; however, a handful have seen reminiscent apparitions drawn from memories—almost always of people or places they know. Whatever the subtext, victims universally find the subject funny, leading to compulsive laughter. This, combined with the ongoing lung damage wrought by inhalation, can lead to victims “laughing themselves to death.”

With difficulty, opportunistic alchemists have found ways to harvest the raw mineral for their own uses. Most often, Cackling finds itself used as a recreational vice: crushed into powder and inhaled. This is done to endure the numbing effects and hallucinations brought by the gas without the supposed downsides of natural exposure—a lie that couldn’t be further from the truth; continued use of this narcotic will have deleterious effects on the victim’s lungs and mind, ultimately either killing them or driving them laughing mad. 

Pinkscale

Pinkscale is an odd material often found where Horrible Hergles lurk—frequently used to correlate the two, but currently not understood. It floats effortlessly on the surface, such that it can be collected by hand on the swamp’s various rivers. Historically, it has been a popular material choice among the region’s indigenous peoples and among scholars travelling through the wetter parts of Tykonia. It resembles the scales of fish – from where it earns its name – and like them, forms together when laced into maille. A novel aspect of this maille is that it is water-resistant, keeping all behind it nice and dry to an extent. This is especially important in the cold, wet bogs where it is often worn to fight the middling rots that come with the environment. 

Despite its popularity among locals and travellers alike, Pinkscale remains very inexpensive. Harvested without need for mining, it’s found in regular abundance anywhere the swampish water flows. Such means that its merchants, sometimes called “Catfish”, have to be coy to make their gold’s worth; often by presenting the polished scales as more valuable commodities for gullible passersby to purchase. While these charlatans are indeed disingenuous, a tiny market exists for artists who use Pinkscale's glistening charm in their woven art.