Fishing for Foromir

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    • Fishing for Foromir

      Dominac Wilhelm’s essay “A Dive with the Saurians” is truly a fascinating piece. Perhaps the most intriguing portion of Wilhelm’s study was his investigation and interpretation of ancient Saurian texts and art. The most eye catching of his finds was a depiction of what he described as “a One-Eyed Saurian bathed in red light, slaughtering his kin.” I, Elizabeth Adolus II, decided to investigate the described ruins myself and, not to discredit Wilhelm, discovered that he had forgot to mention that the art piece was but one of many, the rest laying in various states of erosion and the rest beaten into dust, suggesting a myriad of forgotten history.

      As of this date, roughly a dozen people have approached the border kings of Northern Vetia, claiming that they are victims of abduction by “towering daemons with but a single eye,” and other such exaggerations born from superstition and too much whiskey. Officially, the church has sent a band of knights to investigate such reports, and found nothing but signs of witchcraft, but without signs of witches. They concluded it was merely a local incursion of Barbarians, and left it to a bolstering of local guard to handle it.

      I wasn’t convinced, but lacked funding from the church to pursue an investigation. Thankfully, I acquired outside funding from an undisclosed source, and begin my study into these creatures.

      Based on interviews with the victims, they all claimed that a dense fog over took them and choked them into passing out, and simply awoke in the swamp. Only a few caught a glimpse of any beast, and usually just one, with only a single victim seeing a group around them.

      With no other leads, and already running low on income, I used a bit of pocket money and the rest of my miniscule funding to assemble a year long expedition in the wretched Northern Swamps in search for evidence of the “Foromir” (Forom; Eye or Sight in ancient Avras, and Mire; Swamp in ancient Avras) with several others, including several other biologists, and a church daemonologist.


      It has been three moon cycles since the beginning of our investigation, and our hired swords are already growing restless. We planned on hunting the swamp beasts while we can, and have a months rations to spare. The Swamp is fairly large, encompassing most of Northern Vetia during the wet season. As expected, there is no sign of the Foromir so far. Our resident daemonologist can’t stop from his fits, and constantly complains of the witchcraft within the Swamps, and I must agree that the Veil here is certainly thin, as if the waters of the swamp itself has seeped in.


      It has nearly been the eleventh moon cycle since we have begun, and yet we have not found a single sign. I have temporarily left camp and have interviewed several new victims of the Foromir raids, as several have happened again since my absence from society. I half wish to simply abandon the rest of the team in the Swamps, but failure in the eyes of the Church drive me onwards. Damn these Formir and their elusiveness. At least our investigations in the swamp have unearthed several new species the church can [marked out with ink]

      It was all the same as the other reports, fog followed by a knockout, and just waking up in the swamp. However, one claimed that he had “seen them come in the night, covered in mist,” taking his daughter. He pursued with a rifle and saw them, apparently towering over him, but running at the sight of daylight. His account was untrustworthy at best.

      Upon preparing for my departure, I was visited by my benefactor. If I did not have any information on the Foromir by the end of the month, they wouldn’t let me live.

      I regret what I must do.

      We’ve done it.

      I had hired some unruly types with what little I could gather, and I provided the tribute. Nothing more than an orphan; wouldn’t be missed.

      From what the man said, they came at night. We, as in I, a fellow biologist, and a pair of knights, reserved ourselves to the company of the mercenaries for several days. Every night, a watchmen would tie up the girl to a tree, and watch all night. We had no luck.

      We were about to call it and head back to Avras failures, when we had one last ploy. We wouldn’t watch the girl so closely.

      We rode on to highland and let the girl loose after the sun fully embraced over the horizon. It was a silent summer night, the bog water and bugs the only noise; sound would travel like a hot-knife through butter.

      After a short while, a thick fog appeared out of nowhere. With trained speed, the knights broke into the night faster than lightning, the mercenaries in hot pursuit. I saw the men break through the fog, but I dared not follow. Thankfully, a mercenary scattered at the last moment as well.

      My horse was suddenly dragged from under me, and I felt crushing weight slam into my torso. The great mass of slime was nearly on top of me once again before a cross-bolt struck its side. It charged the mercenary without hesitation.

      I witnessed the man parry at the last moment, and a fleeting look of terror before he was crushed beneath the beast’s sheer bulk.

      As the infernal pupil of the daemon turned on me and began to close its distance, a paladin broke through the fog once more, striking the beast through the throat with his lance. The fog quickly broke, any signs of the girl, the paladins, or the other mercenaries gone.

      The remaining corpse was preserved for his family back at home, Sunna bless his soul. The beast was carried by horseback to sacred Avras.

      The autopsy is being overseen by myself. I am still in the process of receiving a round of funding from the church, but if I can’t I trust my previous benefactor will continue to fund me if possible.