Travelogue: Black As Pitch

Dear brother,

I must make note to only venture from the hamlet with clear focus. The consequences of doing otherwise have proven somewhat…macabre.

We continued our exploration of the Weald this week, and found the same fungal zombies, overgrown spiders, and stray cultists as last time. I can confirm now that the mushroom zombies and the variety seen more typically in the estate are of a wholly different sort from one another. There is no trace of any fungal infection in the dessicated remains of the estate zombies. Indeed, there is hardly any flesh left at all.

Neither variety presents significant threat to a well-supplied expedition group when properly managed. Unfortunately, I find that the proper management of such threats has been slipping.

Today’s expedition happened to all start with B names save for myself, so try to keep up. Bouvasa I have discussed before. He’s the one with the doggo.

Doggo
Yes, you are! Yes, you are!

The others I have mentioned mostly in passing. Bavent is some sort of military or paramilitary, and certainly a veteran of many battles. I believe he is familiar with Duquesne somehow. You remember, the soldier with the crossbow? She was not present on this expedition, however. Instead, I brought Boislevesque, the particularly devout Denunciate, and Bernieres, the amputee. This was my first mistake. Lulled into a false sense of security by just a few weeks of safety and the defeat of the zombie cult leader, I did not feel it was important to bring anyone with medical experience.

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Despite this oversight, the exploration went smoothly. I am still uncertain exactly what the legal situation regarding these skirmishes are, but given how wide a net I cast recruiting excavators, I imagine if these battles were against the law, someone would’ve balked at them by now. Regardless, we were only lightly when we finished mapping the area. But I wanted more. So lightly injured, I thought, we would be fools not to press on for more resources, to finish our work faster. We ran out of torches, but I considered this no great issue. How much harder could these brigands be to fight in the dark?

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It was near the cemetery that we fought them, our torches guttering out completely. It was only five in the afternoon (metric time), but the trees were so thick that we could hardly see a thing. The men who had ambushed us seemed like perfectly normal humans, except in that they were heavily armed and trying to murder us. Perhaps they were something else, though, for they didn’t seem slowed by the dark at all. Whatever they were, we fled from them. But not quickly enough.

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Ŝi ankoraŭ vivus, se vi ne kondukus ŝin ĉi tien.

Sincerely,
Your relative

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