On the edge of a large pond, covered in green algae and surrounded by tall cattails, the water rippled.
Osmal slowly breached the surface, breathing deeply.
He blinked the brackish water away from his eyes, the stench of mud and other nastiness heavy on his nose.
This pond was a cesspit, everything from bloodsucking leeches to parasites that would swim up your pee and lodge themselves in unpleasant places.
Not to mention the caiman that lived in this jungle. If one was big enough, they could drag a human to a watery grave.
He shuddered. Osmal did his best to ignore all the wriggling horrors he knew dwelt under the murky water, as he focused his attention on his target.
A large nest, hanging from the underside of a tree branch, overhung the pond. Only about fifty meters away, with the bottom edge of the massive nest close enough to reach up and grab from the water.
The sun was quickly setting, his prize was well within reach, and yet he hesitated. Cane killer wasps, dozens of them, flying about. And that was just the surface, judging by the massive hive, there had to be thousands inside.
Just the sound made a chill run up his spine. Or perhaps that was the slimy thing that brushed against his skin under water. Damned wasps were at least the size of his thumb, with a protruding stinger and a bright red abdomen.
The color stood out like a sore thumb against the canopy, their wings flapping so quick they were a blur.
Osmal couldn't help but rethink his plan. That stinger must be almost half the length of its body. Was it really a wise idea to try to steal honey from those wasps? That, or pay twenty five merit for the extract.
Without taking this risk, he wouldn't be able to cultivate his new Rustle In The Treetops manual.
Facing that massive ape again with his current strength was not a pleasant thought.
His eyes roved over the hive, tracing the bulbous shape to the branch it was connected to. It was much bigger than he had expected, with several entrances across the hive.
A snatch and grab sounded nice in theory, but which part of the hive to grab? Osmal wasn't by any stretch of the word a wasp expert, but he had done some research.
Cane killer wasps usually kept their nests in three separate parts, one for processing nectar. One for honey storage, which was closely kept next to the one which held the queen and the brood.
Problem was, these wasps relied a lot more on hunting other bugs, rather than converting nectar to honey for sustenance. It would be a real pain to grab the wrong section and only get pupae.
He sighed. The only way to find out was to watch and wait.
At least the water wasn't too cold. Though the murky depths made him antsy. Sure it was chilly, but it was the heat of summer, and the setting sun was quite nice.
Didn't mean he wanted to stay neck deep in this brackish water for any longer than he had to. His eyes narrowed as a wasp flew in from above, its legs covered in pollen.
After landing, it entered through the base of the hive, disappearing from sight. First one, then another, and another, all carrying pollen through the same doorway.
Well, now he had a target. If he took a chunk off the lower end of the hive, it would hopefully have what he needed. Problem was, he still had no idea how to do that without getting stung to death.
Those needle-like stingers did not look pleasant at all. Not to mention the venom they carried.
His eyes flicked back to the sun, which was already dipping below the canopy.
Perhaps a little darkness, and maybe a large satchel? He could attack from below, using the pack to wrap up as much as would fit. Seal the top, then go back underwater.
Most, if not all wasps were not a fan of the night, so he could use that against them. Which meant more waiting. Great! In the meantime, he slowly retreated, returning to the far shore, only stepping out of the water once the nest was well out of sight.
Soaked and stinky, he returned to where he had stowed his pack in a bush.
Osmal emptied it out, mostly foodstuffs for this little excursion. A decent pack, waxed to keep out the constant rain while on missions in the wilds.
It should be able to keep out water even while submerged, at least for a while.
Osmal took the reprieve to wring out his robes, sitting on a protruding root as he ate. It was almost peaceful. The jungle wasn't too bad if you could get over the constant drone of cicadas and the calls of birds.
Not to mention the mosquitos.
Those were just the mundane worries. Despite his nonchalant exterior, Osmal was constantly on edge. His iron web technique blanketed the area, thin strands of his power that would alert him if something tried to approach.
The technique wasn't by any means foolproof, as the apes in the ruins had proved, but still. It was better than nothing.
Darkness set in quickly in the Blade Mountains, going from dusk to near pitch black in minutes. Not a good thing when most predators that made this jungle their home hunted at night.
Osmal was reminded of this fact as he stepped back into the water, hearing a distant splash. With a shudder, he did his best to ignore the sensation of something wriggly brushing against his chest as he waded deeper.
Holding his satchel above the water line, he followed the shore, making his way back towards the nest. It was slow going, his boots sinking deep into the mud.
Returning on his previous path, after a few minutes, his target was in view. A faint outline against the starlit sky, the hive was ominous.
Osmal slowly moved forward, the faint ripples of the water the only sounds.
The hive was surprisingly quiet, the polar opposite to daytime. With surprising ease, he just walked right up to the nest.
Not a single sting thus far. He took a deep, calming breath. He opened the satchel. Hesitating. Just stuff some of the hive inside, then close the mouth tightly. He would need to go under water, and swim as far as he could, in one breath.
What could go wrong?
Almost immediately, things went horribly wrong. In the darkness, he had underestimated the size of the hive. He tried to put the mouth of the satchel over the hive, but the hive was too large. A loud buzz of startled, angry wasps filled the air.
Well, so much for that. Frantic, Osmal tore off a chunk with one hand and forcibly stuffed the relatively soft hive into the sack. Slick, gooey honey covered his hand as he grabbed handfuls and shoved them inside. Osmal didn't have time to be subtle anymore, grabbing as much as he could.
Agony shot across his face and upper back as the wasps stung at anything within reach.
The pain was incredible, those massive stingers digging deep feeling like some bounced off bone as they pierced into his flesh.
Swearing, he decided that was enough honey. With one hand, he squeezed the mouth of the sack closed, batting at the air as he frantically went under the water.
Not that he had much of a choice. In seconds he had already been stung at least a dozen times, with more climbing onto his robes.
Thankfully, they really did not do well in the water, floating off him.
The pain was incredible, a constant burning across his body. The ones on his neck were the worst. He frantically pushed off the ground, half running, half swimming away. It was made all the harder by the fact he carried a pouch in a death grip in one hand.
Osmal didn't particularly care where he was going, he just wanted to get away. He swam blindly until he couldn't hold his breath any longer. With a gasp he surfaced, the distant drone of angry wasps echoing across the water.
Not feeling safe, he drew on his core, extending his iron web technique as he trudged onto land. Still clutching the mouth of the pack shut, he shook his precious cargo to clear off the water. The muffled buzz of angry wasps answered from within.
Well, that wasn't good.
On the bright side, he definitely had acquired some honey. And the venom as well, aka the life wasps within. Extracting said venom was a future him problem.
Osmal threw an anxious glance back towards the angry sounding hive.
He needed to get out of here, and fast. Those wasps were not happy, and they might hear the ones in his bag if he lingered. Good thing they were not night flyers.
With urgency, he fled back towards Fort Thragg.
A bedraggled Osmal entered the fort around midnight, exhausted, wounds burning. With the adrenaline wearing off, the stings had gone from a dull throb to an angry pain. .
Judging by the guard's surprised looks, there must be some swelling.
They didn't even give him crap for returning at the ass end of midnight. Bedraggled and in pain, Osmal entered his room and paused.
Ash sat on the edge of his bed, reading a thick book by lantern light.
"Can I help you?" Osmal asked hesitantly.
Ash slammed the heavy book shut and sat up.
Her response caught on her lips as she finally took him in.
"That bad?" Osmal asked tiredly, catching her raised eyebrows.
"With all that swelling, it looks like you just got run over by a herd of wild horses," Ash replied, trying not to smirk.
Osmal had to agree. One glance at his small mirror made him cringe.
"The wasps were more intense than expected," Osmal replied.
Ash nodded, throwing a glance towards the pack tied tightly around the neck.
"I take it you secured what you were looking for?"
"Something like that. So, what can I do for you?" Osmal asked, suspiciously.
She gave him a calculating look.
"You have my journal, and I want it back," Ash said.
"I forgot where I put it," Osmal replied smoothly.
Ash pulled a small vial of blue salve from her robes.
"Perhaps this will jog your memory. It's a salve that should help with the pain and that nasty swelling," Ash said.
"How did I know it's going to work?" Osmal asked suspiciously.
She snorted.
"Come here, I'll show you," Ash said.
Perhaps it was the constant throbbing that made him agree; the stings across his body were sharp reminders he couldn't ignore.
The salve was pungent, but it radiated soothing waves through his skin.
After he pulled back his robes to expose his shoulders, she dipped her fingers into the salve, and put some on his back.
Osmal didn't appreciate being this exposed, but sometimes you had to grit and bare. As for why she was helping, she must really want her journal back. Purely a mutual exchange, nothing more. Emotional attachment was weakness, a foolish one that could get you killed in the sect.