Pathfinder’s Log, Marian Jules
June 11, 1744 CA
I found a good spot to make camp about half an hour’s walk from the shore of the Hungry Ocean. It’s part of an abandoned village. There’s a stream that we’ll have to boil the water from, and enough left of the mill and granary to give us cover on three sides.
The professor wanted to get started right away when we arrived, but I talked him down. We can’t risk having any of us spread out all over the place after nightfall, and we need to get some torches and wards set up. If there aren’t harrows in a place like this, I’ll eat both boots.
That guy is obsessed and a half. I’m worried about his balance.
June 12, 1744 CA
Harrows last night, no shock. Preparations kept them down to manageable numbers, fortunately. Professor asked “Why someone doesn’t just kill them all?” Citified moron. I had to explain the whole deal with harrows. He took notes.
Seems like his bodyguard has a clue though, so that’s worth something. He sure knows his way around a sword. Made me look like a slacker against the harrows, and that takes doing.
I led their team to the shore of the ocean around noon, leaving trail markers on my way back so they could find their way back to camp. I told them anything coming back through the perimeter after dark was going to sprout feathers. I might have been exaggerating a little, but I doubt they want to try my bow, or anyone else’s here.
They got back two hours before dark. Seems like three of the professor’s little wheeled probe things got too close to the edge of the Ocean, and got themselves eaten all up. I hope that’s not going to be a trend — we’ve come a long way out here to just throw expensive equipment into a hell pit. I mean, no skin off my nose, since I get paid either way, but I hate to feel like a trip’s been wasted.
Professor says he’s going to modify some of the ones he’s got left and try again tomorrow. I guess he left some kind of passive sensors there overnight, too. Which is fine, it’s not like the harrows will mess with something like that.
June 14, 1744 CA
Harrows, third night in a row, still not too big a deal. I want to say there were more of them, but it’s not like they talk to each other or anything. They can’t just tell each other, “Hey, fresh live things in the old village.” Probably just chance.
I was getting a bad vibe off the professor when he got back yesterday evening, so today I followed his party to the shore of the Ocean and hid in the tree line. I can see why he’s been having trouble with those little instrument carts. It’s not like he’s just been careless. I saw the Ocean surge up when one got close and just swallow it. It was like throwing boiling water on snow, boom, gone.
I talked to them after they got back, though, and it seems like they’ve gotten useful readings from the last few they lost. Which is good, since I think he only has four of those kits left.
What the hell is the Ocean made of? I swear it saw that thing coming and went after it.
I’m starting to get why none of the natives would bring him up here. I’m also starting to think they might have been right.
June 15, 1744 CA
The professor’s group came back from the shore just before full dark, short their last four instrument carts, two interns, and his bodyguard. He won’t say exactly what happened to them, but I know. They kept poking that thing, and it finally started poking back for real.
I told them we’re getting out of here first thing in the morning, once the harrows clear. For once he didn’t have a word to say. We’re going to pack up everything we don’t need for the night. Might even leave the tents if I feel in a rush once the sun’s up.
June 16, 1744 CA
Spent the whole night waiting for harrows. Not one. For a while I was pissed, thinking we could have left safely during the night, but then I got a good look outside the camp once dawn hit.
Trees? Gone. Grass? Gone. Foundations? Yep, gone. All starting just outside the range of our torchlight. And the whole place is loaded with puddles, the same color as the damn Ocean. They’re not just sitting in place waiting for us to step into them and dissolve, either.
They eat shafts just like they eat anything else, but fire arrows work. I don’t know how far out those things go, but we’re going to have to try a push, to break out through their line and make a run for it. It’s not going to get any better if we wait.
(The recovered journal ends here. When found, it was sealed in a crystal scroll case.)