From the diary of Deacon Jeremius Dral, the Cawing Carrion of the Most Esoteric Missionary Congregation of the Church of the Scattered Flocks.
“Just as the visions showed, the bestial horde fought against the legions of corpse eaters and won. With all of the pieces moving into place, I took a handful of the congregation who are more skilled in the arts of combat and headed away from the flock. For two days and two nights we walked, following a mix of the signs gifted to us by nature itself, and by the clues granted by the lords of feathers. On the dawn of the third day, they found us.
A warband of ghouls, runaways from the ghoul horde I assume, sort to ambush us along the road returning to where the Excremental Herd were busy defiling. The charged forward with all the stealth and tact of a blind doombull, screaming something in their pitiful language, yet as they reached the peak of the hill and the light lit them from behind, I swear I saw not feral corpse eaters but gallant knights. This was, of course, the final sign I had been waiting for – the completion of the first of the many visions that guide me upon this god-forsaken isle.
The members of the congregation fought well, even if we did lose 3 of our number. May the Vulcharcs carry them to the nests of the lords of the Scattered Flocks in all their forms. In return for their valiant sacrifice, we did however discover something the ghouls may have preferred us not to find – had they still the minds left to think of things beyond their next meal. May the carrion birds devour me alive before allowing my brain the devolve to the point of these wretches. I will bring my findings before the Inner Circle that gathers around the Beastlord, see if we can finally solve the riddle of this island.
