Swamp Town

Swamptown is a squalid settlement on the Lustrian coast. Despite the brothels and taverns making up its decadent core, it is no place for excess. With a name the inhabitants had shown surprising honesty with, Swamptown is malarial and grubby. Its crudly built huts and hovels are riddled with termites and slimed with mould; even the newest stink of decay as they rot slowly back into the ground from which they had sprung. They stink further as they decompose, each of them filled with the rank odour of rotten vegetation and other, more revolting things. But if the air inside is dank, the air outside is even worse. After what a voyager had experienced cross the ocean, and the clean air of sea breezes, the humidity here is choking, an asthmatic fog that drones with the constant hum of countless biting flies. After just two hours ashore, those without tough, leathery skin find themselves covered with an agonizing itch of bites and incisions.

Past the rickety bamboo pier, even the streets ooze. Mud and shit suck hungrily at one's feet with every cloying step, insinuating itself into the damnp leather of boots and spilling over the cuffs.

Trivia
A packs of pirate sloops call this miserable haven home.

Source

 * : The Burning Shore (novel) by Robert Earl
 * : Chapter 7

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