[Abe Sargent]

Your super-keen senses alert you to something on the brow of a hill which overlooks this stretch of beach. You detect the faint glint of moonlight on steel and at once you whisper a warning to Prarg. Instantly he takes cover among the rocks and together you watch with bated breath as two inquisitive Lencian lookouts leave their post and come down to the sea's edge. They scan the beach then, shaking their heads, they turn and retrace their steps, pausing to skewer a few clumps of seaweed with their spears as they trek back to their post.

As the lookouts climb the hill, you and Prarg hurry away whilst they have their backs turned.

Shortly you reach a small secluded cove where Captain Prarg discovers a rusty anchor. It is a landmark, left on purpose by agents of King Sarnac to point the way to the cave where they have left your boat and provisions. You find the cave and together you haul the boat down the beach and raise its coal-black sail before pushing it out into the icy waters of the Tentarias.

Once aboard, you trim the sail whilst Prarg takes charge of the rudder. There is a good wind and within minutes your tiny craft is bobbing towards the far western channel of the Hellswamp, twenty miles distant. You ask Prarg if this dark estuary has a name, and he replies, 'Yes. The Drakkarim call it "Dakushna's Channel" after the Darklord who once commanded the city-fortress of Kagorst. They say it is a fitting dedication, for the waterway is as deadly and as treacherous as the being after whom it is named.'

Dawn breaks as you sail into the estuary of Dakushna's Channel. Prarg keeps the boat in the centre of the wide waterway, where the slimy water is deepest and the ever-present risk of grounding upon submerged debris is less likely to befall you.

Soon you are enveloped by the chaotic wilderness of the Hellswamp and you feel your spirits drop, as if they are being leeched by some unseen vampire. The monotonous view of slime-laden mudflats extends seemingly forever on every side, broken only occasionally by a dead, vine-strangled tree. You both take some comfort in the fact that there is a wind and it is blowing in a favourable direction. Despite the depressing scenery you make good progress until, late in the afternoon, you are forced to lower your sail when you reach a point where unexpectedly the channel splits in two. Prarg says that this split must have occurred recently, for it was not present the last time he sailed this way. Reluctantly he admits that he is not sure which way to go.

Upon the edge of the left bank, in the middle distance, you see a circle of mud huts perched close to the channel's edge. You magnify your vision, but you are unable to discern any signs of life.

(Left, normally I’d want to steer clear of habitation, but that seems the right way to get where we want to go)

Without a rigged sail, the stinking marsh wind propels your boat along the channel at a far slower rate. Gradually you approach the cluster of huts and, as you pass before them, you see eight dwellings, each built of mud-daubed roots and thatched with rotting vegetation. They are empty but they have not been deserted. The shoreline is littered with bones, the remnants of past meals, and nearby is a crude wooden frame on which the skins of a snake and a lizard have been stretched out to dry.

'It's a Ciquali camp,' whispers Prarg nervously, his eyes scouring the surrounding waters for the slightest sign of movement. During your travels you have heard tales about the Ciquali, none of which were favourable. They are the bane of the Hellswamp--a breed of vicious amphibians, intelligent and cunning, with a taste for human flesh that makes them especially dangerous.

'Our luck's good, Lone Wolf,' says Prarg, as gradually the wind carries you beyond the huts. 'The camp's empty--they must be away hunting. Truly we're fortunate to have come this way this time.'

As soon as you lose sight of the settlement, you hoist the sail and catch the prevailing wind which propels you northwards along Dakushna's Channel. You are hungry, and unless you possess Grand Huntmastery, you must now eat a Meal or lose 3 ENDURANCE points.


Gradually, over the next few hours, the level of the water rises until it covers most of the surrounding mud flats. Here and there, clumps of wire-hard briar stand isolated on tiny islands which are almost flush with the surface. They are the only features to break the dreary landscape.

As sunset approaches, so the wind dies until there is barely enough breeze to ruffle the canvas. Stoically Prarg gathers in the mainsail and you ship the oars, then together you pull back against the scum-darkened water and continue on your way. You are watchful of the current, for this will indicate your approach to the River Gourneni, but the water is so thick with silt and slime that neither of you can be certain of its direction, or even of its existence.