It has been a week since I arrived at the Eglain encampment in Ost Guruth, and through aiding in their daily tasks, as well as assistance in eliminating local warg packs an orc raiding bands, they have granted me an audience with their elder. A wise man, whom they hold in high regard and knows much of the land's history, he confided in me a lead, a possible source of the expanding corruption in the woods.
He spoke of a marsh they called Agamaur, a marsh to the north, with was a host to gnarled, aggressive oaks, sickly, bloated wights, and waters that run red. He spoke of a powerful lord that commands them, a long dead warden of the marsh, who's restless corpse has warped its mind to pure insanity. And with that, I realize I had found my quarry.
Tracking my target was no easy task, the entire swamp smelling of sickly death made sniffing out the wight all but useless, and the thick, sloppy mud make visible tracks all but impossible. As I searched, I came upon an old set of ruins, a likely place for a commanding lord to reside.
My assumptions were correct, though the task before me seemed daunting. It took every ounce of my stealth and cunning to reach a vantage point unseen, but even that was not enough. With my location discovered, I feared that I would not make it out of these marshes alive. But then, my salvation.
A trio of those ranger folk somehow got wind to my doings, and came to my aid. With their assistance, we dispatched the wight lord, and with any luck, halted the spread of the forest's corruption. The rangers informed me that they have been tracking my deeds for some time. and would like a word with me, what that word is, I am not sure.
I write this at their encampment, and it would seem that my journey is leading me in a backtrack, toward the North Downs.
