While we were recuperating from the ambush, a strange bipedal creature took advantage of our rest to steal a corpse of a dead ganger away into the nearby woods; I don’t recall Sir Kimnule mentioning anything about such creatures, but the party heeded curiosity over caution and we followed its trial into the forest after chasing off the two attackers I incapacitated. I was relieved to see that even Cyren took no unnecessary action upon them; O’Naril was rather sympathetic.
As we tracked, Cyren drifted over to me and attempted to convert me. I should not be annoyed, as she is a woman of the cloth, but her choice of words when speaking of My Lady was a brutish as her patron. She seems to take enjoyment in making others uncomfortable. Her quip that I was a ‘stereotypical elf’ made me feel proud of my abilities.
I swear it was an act of My Lady that saw the forest distort and distend around us only minutes later, funneling us towards what first seemed an abandoned ruin. With little hesitation my companions rushed inside, and behind a hidden door we found a large room that bled black all around us. I stupidly investigated it and got the ichor on my clothing, where it seemingly vanished into me. I felt no ill effects and my mind remained centered, but am still frightened of what it might do. Past that terrible place seemed to be a forge, still operating, manned by Gods know; whatever the dark creatures were, they ignored us as they worked.