Little did Arron know when he left the mines of Moghedu that the road would lead him to Kloreme, the crazy Witch of the Southern Swamps. "How hard can it be?" he thought when she asked him to stay on. "Housework and caring for an old biddy?"

He soon met other 'helpers' in Kloreme's hut, and noticed strange effects when they partook of the meals provided to them. Though one little girl surreptitiously warned Arron away from the food, the thought of missing one of the sporadic plates of bread and stinking cheese was not something they were willing to do. Soon even Arron's hunger drove him to force down the unappetising morsels with the sinking realisation that he was sealing his fate.

~ ~

Piercing the humid summer of 669 AF, the wails of Kloreme were heard across the land. Panicked, she was in search of her 'lost' assistants. Harking to her call, several intrepid adventurers came to her aid, and while Kloreme babbled mostly nonsense, those who heeded her pleas recognised that something was amiss and set off to find the missing people.

Alerted to a hubbub in the gnat ridden swamp and fearful that the old witch had found them, Arron quickly retreated to warn his friends. When Deladan and other adventurers burst through the door of the runaways' rickety shack, Arron and his fellow escapee Jacques confessed the details of their peril in an anxious jumble, begging the group to not disclose their location.

Eager to help, the adventurers pressed for details. Recalling an old antidote he saw Kloreme create in the past, Jacques dared to hope that it might allow the group to keep their new home while guarding their wits against Kloreme's poisons. Sylarana led a hunt to find the remedy's ingredients, and soon thereafter, Arron and his friends felt clear-headed for the first time since arriving in the Southern swamps. As the small group celebrated their freedom, they vowed to keep in touch with the adventurers in case Kloreme ever again gained the upper hand.


Penned by My hand on the 2nd of Glacian, in the year 669 AF.