k’Ocoon k’Ooroon

Six frog like humanoids stand on a small low island surrounded thick swamp ending in verdant jungle. The air is hot and muggy, the sun shining out of a clear blue sky. Insects and the noise of jungle animals fill the air.
The six humanoids are Grung, small frog like people that inhabit the swamps and jungles of Chult. The Grung are standing in a star formation, one at each point and one in the center. All are dressed in small pieces of hide adorned with bone, teeth, dried animal parts and have red skin with various black markings. Five Grung at the stars points are chanting with a mixture of frog chirps and strange words. The one in the center stands silent arms and head raised to the heavens. The chanting raises in volume and tempo building to a crescendo and stops. Only noises are from the jungle and insects. Then the center Grung calls out, “b’Rrph j’Trrph”, silence not even the jungle can be heard. Them a low humming starts, slowly building. Centre Grung calls again, “b’Rrph j’Trrph”. The humming increases intensity, but a crackle can be heard within it. The center Grung, cocks its head listening. The humming still there but the crackling is becoming louder. The Grung slowly looks around at the island and surrounding swamp. The humming is receding, the crackling louder. The Grung in the center eyes widen, he barks out a series of commands and grips his small staff, the other Grung now turn away from the center of the star and look to the swamp, clubs and staves ready.
Five thick masses of shadow burst from the swamp around the island, flying into the air, swirling and twisting. The Grung stand tense waiting. Shadows stop and hang for a brief moment, then plunge downward toward the waiting Grung.
The Grung burst into action flinging spells and casting shields. The center Grung holds fast chanting once more. Shadows now swarming around the five outer Grung, screams rising. They are each covered by a swirling mass of living shadow. Screams turn to gurgles and crunching, a burst of red mist within the living shadows, then silence, just the old Grung in the center can be heard, still chanting, staff point planted at his feet head bowed, red skin glistening in the jungle sun.
Behind the Old Grung at the edge of the small island an old rotted log lays, serving as a table for the ritual. Various clay bowls, candles, berries, nuts, fungi, and parchment are scattered along the log. At the far end a small streak of red can be seen through a crack in the log. It shifts slightly and a beady black eye peers through the crack.
I squeeze and push myself further into the hollow log, I feel splinters piecing my skin and the log constricting my breathing. But this is nothing compared to the fear of what is happening outside in the ritual area. Black formless masses engulfing and consuming the older Grung Druids of the circle. Only the Elder Druid left, but what is he doing just standing there, not helping or fighting back, chanting.
I catch a small section of his chant, was that……yes, my name. Straining I concentrate,
“VvvvrRshhon DddrAnshhon, k’Ocoon k’Ooroon,
the ritual corrupted ritual broken, dead not dead claim the broken,
flee the mound head to higher ground,
k’Ocoon k’Ooroon, k’Ocoon k’Ooroon you are now one,
Grung of Jungle, pool, swamp and tree, you must flee,
Take the gift, run be free, return with power from the tree.
It was, it was for me. He knows it’s over, by the tadpole, I thought he was so powerful and now….
I watch frozen, as soon as he goes silent the five evil masses of shadow pounce on him, there is no screams no spells, no fighting back. Just a sickening cracking grinding sound and a spray of blood, bone and frog.
I wait for hours, long after the carnage, to frightened to leave the log. When I do it is dark, long into the lightless hours, the sounds of swamp and jungle night have returned. Like nothing has happened, like they never existed. But, they did. As I crawl out I can see the dark splashes on the ground, where they once stood. I make my way to the center, avoiding the stains on the marsh ground, The Elder, I pick up a stick and pull his small staff toward me, its smaller than I thought, more like a club. My eye catches his Totem, I reach for it with the stick. A necklace of sorts, made of entwined vines, teeth, claws and the shrunken head of Su beast. I wrap it around the staff / club, turn and leave not looking back. The circle is broken, I must leave, flee only to return with power from the tree.