It seems the crags create the path into the depths of Iromar. The stones eventually fell away and broke into a flatter, more sunken landscape. If the sky was clear here, I wonder if I would be able to see across the territory entirely. What sort of strength does this environment breed? What kind of weakness? The mists are a poignant reminder of the fact that danger is said to live within the thick, brown water. It is unfamiliar and yet, I find myself enjoying the strangeness of it all. There is a risk found within each step as I dance about the borders cusp, daring the scent to encapsulate me. If I was patient, I could undoubtedly coat myself in the bog's stench, essentially granting myself invisibility as I prowled through the mists. However, this is not my objective - not today. I have merely come to... see, I suppose.

The summer rains seemed to have filled a fresher pit with clearer water; it still lingers with a muddy colour, impure as it is aromatic. For some time, I have simply stood at its boundary, allowing my toes to sink into the black mud at its shores. It is a remnant of a season passed, though I suppose it speaks much of Iromar. If Solaris is correct, then like Diveen, they feed off an age-old story of angels and demons, good and evil. How curious, however, that they might choose the side that others see as objectively bad. I suppose there is a tell tale of curiosity somewhere in my features.

Finally, it is with one quick movement that I find myself chest deep in the murky water. It seems that it thins out across the borders of Iromar, and I cannot help but begin to test the boundaries. Slowly but surely, I lurk through the waters, my paws squishing into the mud below me as I enter into the pack. One step, two step - just far enough. I have come to see and I suppose here is a good place to begin. So far, however, it seems there is so... few things of interest.