It is only a few days since I left the Seilwood to begin my investigations into the sickness of the world, and already, I have found much that troubles me.
The town of Hlint itself brings me little joy. I can see where the trees were once clear-cut and turned into fences and stockades, but this, as much as I disklike it, is part of what men, elves, dwarves, and the like do.
But even here, under the noses of so many folks who call themselves "adventurers", I can feel the sickness. The sewers are home to one called the "Ratman"... from what I can tell, this is no mere nickname, but some unnatural fusion of rat and man, probably through lycanthropy. I explored the sewers somewhat with my wolf companion Hakrnrhakt, but was forced to withdraw in the face of so many rabid rats and dangerous spiders.
Also, I hear tell of the dead walking in the crypts in the Hlint cemetary. No matter how many times the crypts are purged, they always seem to return. And yet these "adventurers" do not think this disturbing?
I also do not seem much welcome. Those here must feel about me something like what I feel about them. Many seem to shun, or even mock me for... what? My parentage? Perhaps because I am a druid? Or both? Their lack of acceptance does not bother me as much, though, when I hear them joke and laugh about killing innocent animals for sport, instead of simply hunting for need. Still, some folks here have been more open. I met one elf who seemed to also be a druid, though he was hard to understand, as he spoke the common language poorly; another elf, who seemed to be a bow expert showed me the areas around town.
But back to Hlint itself... this bhhazo... it suffers from the sickness, yet I do not believe it is the source. Still, I must continue to examine this area for clues, leading me to the true source -- or sources -- of the world's pain.
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// Translation notes: Hakrnrhakt = "right hand" (roughly); bhhazo = "place"
