Blackening tides

Into the Mangrove...

and the search for a witch.

It is morning. An eventful night, during which we suffered a dire blow – one of our boats was wrecked by vile lizardmen. It is a small blessing, I expect, that we have recovered the reptilian beasts own boats but they’re crude compared to ours. I shan’t feel comfortable sailing in it. Thankfully we’ve put that off for a day or so, at least. We’re going to head in land to search for this witch. Maximilian, with the aid of Harker managed to find the trail of the lizardmen that headed inland before. Our luck has been good so far – I hope it holds and we find this witch. The idea doesn’t sit right with me, but we must find her. We need the answers she may hold.

As I write these notes, I watch with some amusement Kishara arguing with the others about how best to deal with the hide of the, frankly enormous, crocodile we just killed. I grow more and more pleased with my companions; despite the horrific hardships of the swamp, we overcome each and every one, often with well-drilled ease. Perhaps this excursion was just the thing they needed to help them realise one simple fact of battle: Be organised, or die.

Megra just took the crocodiles eye.

Why is it always the eyes? I must avoid consuming her concoctions wherever possible.

My instincts tell me it’s going to be very foggy soon – and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. Shelly concurs with me. I’ve insisted we press on; we cannot afford to waste time. This prompted Kishara to ask me how many of them must be sacrificed on this quest. I’m not sure where the question came from, or what relevance it had to the matter at hand. I think I must concur with Maximilian. Kishara is going mad.

In any case, I told her that all of us must be willing to give up our lives in the course of our duties. It is the very least expected of us.

And so we head on. Into the fog. Vadomer preserve us.

We have reached mangrove forest. Kishara has complained that visibility is going to be poor, with the fog, and that we should stop. Maximilian and myself have pointed out that, in the mangrove, visibility would be poor regardless.

I do not know if it is madness, or disease, that Kishara suffers but I find myself seriously questioning her conviction on this quest. I am unsure what is to be done about it.

I find myself struggling to clean these pages of the mass of dead biting insects that now cover everything we own. It was horrible. I regret that Vadomer did not bless me with the power to keep away vermin. Still, we have reached a rise. A sort of hill, made of the roots and branches of the mangrove trees. Megra feels it is witchcraft, of the foulest sort. I find it hard to disagree.

If we needed proof that this witch we seek was of the vilest, most evil, kind then we have just found it. Lizardmen corpses, risen by dark rituals to guard the witches hut. We dispatched them and defeated their evil magicks. My trident suffered some minor damage. A frustrating fact indeed. There was some kind of divining pool outside it. I remain convinced it was some sort of early warning for the witch. The others disagree.

Regardless, we plan to head into the hut and follow the stairs heading deep into the ‘hill’. I do not know what we will find.

Always a faithful servant of Vadomer,

Brother Garon



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