21 Mai 593h

A very pleasant day, today. Not a cloud in sight and pleasantly warm. After a short journey we arrived in Mistaton. What a sad little village, perched on the edge of a swamp and close to the sea. The land is poor, and damp still and I can't see anything but paddy fields of rice in the surrounding area. W were greeted at the village gates by Quadi, Rami Ben Affah, and quickly led through to an inn called The Cup where we were made welcome.

The residents of Mistaton seem to be mainly Halfling or Zacharan. I guess they are the odds and ends of society that don't fit anywhere else. Why else would they want to come to this god forsaken place? Most of them are dressed in Blue and white, almost as if its a sacred or tribal colour. I wonder why?

Its not much of a place, we are all accommodated in one room at The Cup, indeed the only room it has for guests. The most common drink is a thin white wine made from rice, and the meals are a hand full of rice with a few vegetables thrown in. If you are lucky there is a little meat or some egg. It gets quite boring, I should imagine.

Many of the locals had gathered in the evening to hear our story, and mandrake took it apon himself to tellit. And he told it well. He used his spells to conjure forth visions of the dogheads, although they were more fierce than I recall, and conducted the story in high humour and suspense.

The elders, of course, were more interested in the Gila seeing as they were right on their doorstep, so to speak. But I managed to get to speak to a few of the farmers and arranged to walk with them the following day to look at the way they work their fields.

Madelyn was behaving most strangely though. Some poor chap asked her baptise his child - But she completely ignored him-almost as if he wasn't there. Strange - they can't get many proper clerics around here-poor chap might be the only Norseman living in the village.