>>5943368On the way back, one of our scouts gets lost. It isn't impossible, after all, to get separated in the wild and in unfamiliar territory. There may be something more insidious at play, however, for he soon finds himself in a festering, terrible swamp.
He wanders aimlessly, avoiding treacherous terrain, biting insects and deadly snakes and spiders before seeing something in the distance: a hut of some kind. He stumbles towards it, drawn by some mysterious pull that goes beyond the mere need for survival.
There exists in this hut an old woman, who invites him inside. Her appearance is disarmingly decrepit, yet there is something off about her that he cannot place. Unable to resist at least the lure of a warm fire and a meal, he approaches her home and enters.
The horrors that ensued within may never be known to our people, but what is known is that days later, scouts combing the area with wolves finally found him crawling out of the swamp, looking as though he had been tormented by the denizens of hell. He was covered in wounds, his blood drained, his fingernails peeled off, his eyelids cut---countless terrors inflicted upon him, and he looks as though his very life force was drained away and aged prematurely. He cries out in a hoarse voice to never go into the swamp, to never see her or listen to her and never, under any circumstances ever, enter her home.
He perishes there on the spot, and the other scouts are too terrified to go into that hellish swamp. They bring tales of this place back to the homeland, and the sylvians have tales of such creatures: hags, witches of terrible intent and evil magic, who thrive upon the suffering and misery of others. It is said that they are attracted to civilization, offering curatives and spells to solve problems, but exacting terrible costs.
