As soon as Myrianna's foot touched the poisoned soil, she was under attack. The miasma weighed heavily on her, as if it were collapsing and attempting to crush her. Tendrils of darkness struggled to constrict themselves around her body and squeeze the life from her. They were stayed, though, by the intricate enchantments woven into the fabric of her robes and the jewelry that she wore. The noxious fumes spewed by the various plants around her were negated by the Dwarrian mask that covered her face.
Even with all of her protections, soon after stepping onto the castle grounds she felt her strength waning. She knew if she had come here naked, she would have been dead before finishing her first step. Sweat was running into her eyes and down her back; her under garments were soaked and clung to her as if in desperation. Her joints were under a tremendous amount of pressure and each step required a vast amount of effort. She was laboring to take full, deep breaths and her mind was numbing. Her insides were squirming and she wasn't sure if her bowels had released or not. She didn't care. She was nearing the moat of the castle and she had to concentrate. Insanity needed to be patient and Death would not have her this day.
She arrived at the edge of the moat and for a moment she longed to drown herself in the festering cesspool of coagulated rot, and it seemed to be trying to convince her to. She tore her gaze away and looked at the massive ruined castle. She held her gaze as she reached into a pouch at her waist, pulling out a large, smooth white orb that pulsed with a warm, caring light. It soothed Myrianna's pain, but only temporarily.