“September 3rd 1678,
We finally hit hospitable land today, an event which, after three consecutive days of heavy storms, I personally take as a good sign of things to come. While I have not gotten the chance to get off the boat myself, the captain sent out a group to explore the area and see if it was safe a few hours back.
I have some suspicions about the purpose of this voyage. I admit my knowledge about the voyage may be a bit lacking, seeing as my entry aboard the ship was dubiously sanctioned, but I still find the idea of a captain sending people to scout out an area in most contexts a bit odd. Should we be expecting something dangerous on this trip?
I will write more about this situation later today, as I suspect something shady is going down here.
“September 3rd 1678 (Night Time),
The search party didn’t come back, while I am trying really hard to think of alternative explanations, I can’t help but assume something on this island ended the poor fools’ lives. The captain seems to think the same thing, as we have waited until night to get on the island to gather supplies. I cannot fathom why waiting would help in that case, but regardless, the false sense of security calms me the slightest amount.
I can’t help but notice an abundance of almost unnatural seeming tunnels into the ground. Seeing them my anxious mind is riddled with memories of the frightening tales my grandmother used to tell me before I slept about the Ignus.
The Ignus were supposedly a fearsome kingdom in the days of myth, it was ultimately driven to pointless bloodshed in its endless search for glory. They took every colony they crossed that did not surrender in fear without fault for years. Eventually they came across the home of Zyco, the god of Flora’s chosen people. There they slaughtered every single soul they came across, male or female, old or young, it did not matter to them, they killed them all.
This Angered Zyco to the point of furiousness, and in this state of rage he put a curse on all the land the Ignus had claim too. In the weeks following the massacre all the plant-life in their territory shrivelled, and then weeds and vines ripped out of the earth, sprawling across what used to be towns.
Left with no other options, the Ignus went underground, scavenging for any roots they could find and trying to get substance from the abundant amounts of rocks they found. Eventually they took after the moles, digging out caverns connected by tunnels not unlike the ones I see here today. In this miserable and pathetic state their eyes grew weak and small from the perpetual darkness of the caves, and their ears grew long and sensitive so they could hear and catch vermin to eat. They only ever left these caves at night to hunt, so that the sunlight didn’t blind them.
Bless my Grandmother’s kind old heart, but she did tell some rather unusual, sometimes even frightening stories to me as a child, they probably scarred me for life, or at the very least contributed to my over-active, paranoid imagination.
I hear some rustling nearby, writing this I can’t help feeling anxious, I’ll go search for the source of the sound, so I can put my anxious thoughts to rest for a while.