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The small village of Bronbog, housed in the heavily wooded heart of the Dreamseep Marshlands, has recently come

under a baneful curse the young are born malformed, features twisted and demonic in nature. Residents complain of
terrible nightmares becoming common place, and a handful of long-respected denizens have fallen to madness, and
some suicide. Many have fled, the stubborn or foolish remaining, but the nature of this curse has peaked the interest of
one man Kaulder.

Kaulder, youve seen such curses before drive whole communities to ruin, but what your experience as a Witch Hunter
has taught you is that the usual purpose of such a curse is not just to spread pain and suffering but to prepare the land
with enough misery and darkness for some more sinister purposeto transform the fane of a land into a site ripe for
dark ritual.

Youve gathered up a handful of proven warriors to join you on this investigation of Bronbog (introductions)

The sun set but an hour ago as your party pushed into the sludgy floor of the Dreamseep Marsh, and only now can you
see the distance glow of warmly lit windows. You approach Bronbog, coming upon the only mildewed hovel that shows
any sign of life.

They are greeted at the door by a pale, young woman in simple clothes, her face streaked with sweat and dirt.
You you best not be here. Death awaits those who come.
You wish to lift the curse? Such evil scoffs in the face of mortal men, how can you hope to stop what horror
haunts us?
If your words be true, foolish they may be, then your bravery is a welcome change around here. I shall take you
to the ruins just outside of the village. Ive seen things crawling there at night, whispering to themselves and
laughing through hisses and gurgles.
She puts on a pair of thick, leather boots and leads you outside.

The party walks with the woman, her eyes fearful and distant as she shows them into the marsh. A low, cold fog has
swallowed the bog now, leaving the surrounding trees but shadowed bars in a sodden prison. With each sloshing step,
you hear the crickets intensify and the low moan of the wind pulse.

Perc 15+ - You see the fog swirl and shift unnaturally, and your eyes focus on what looks like two ghostly forms
reaching out for you all!

Encounter 1 Wraith x 2
Continuing forward, the swamp water now creeping past your knees as the cold cuts to your bone, you see a large shape
begin to reveal itself through the fog a gargantuan, ancient stone structure stands partially collapsed, looming over the
clearing like a sighing, forgotten chapel. As you push on, you see a large marble table, an altar, standing resolute against
the bog floor. A new female voice pierces the air, low and rough of texture.

How eager they walk on, unknowing they come to the seat of their destiny.
An offering of outsider blood is welcome. It cleans the palette, prepares the tastes to come.
Shall we begin the next offering, dear sister?

The young woman behind you smiles and calls out:

Of course, dear sister. The marsh grows hungry, and so do I.

ENCOUNTER 2 Swamp Hag x 2