| Text
| - Archibald bent to snatch the scrap of paper from the ground. Blown against him amidst a jumbled whirl of leaves, he'd almost missed its notice.
"What have you there?" his partner, Cuthbert, asked.
"A crudely written note. Here--" he said, handing the paper over. "I admit, your appraisal skill occasionally proves a trifle better than my own. What do you make of it?"
"A crudely written note, barely legible." Cuthbert squinted at the scribbled words. "Go to big tree place," he quoted. "Get swamp-stinkers to follow you, make big wanga on humans! Written in banderling."
In recent days, hints, and captured notes, and even occasional sightings tell of further danger in the lands. Certain creatures of Dereth have begun organizing into camps.
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