"That seems wise." He directs the raft to the coast.

They walk along the coast for a few thousand feet. Jules is carrying most of the cargo.

It's hard to see very far through the fog. Their path seems to trace a semicircle heading southeast.

"What's that? A trail?" He gestures.

Now that Yanor points it out, there is some sort of artificial trail in the dirt up past the beach. It follows the coast.

"Anyone who inhabits the area may have come across the entry points we need to find, and this does not look like a trail formed accidentally. Shall we follow it?"

They follow the trail. It snakes through the edge of the Mushfens before remerging on the beach a few hundred feet later.

A rickety wooden bridge leads off of the beach and into the fog. Humanoid skulls weird sigils painted on them in blood are mounted on the entrance.

She has absolutely no experience with weird sigils or humanoid skulls!

Tencednil doesn't, that is. Lhín has seen many things. Unfortunately, she has not seen these particular sorts of things, and cannot be of any help here.

Yanor cautiously walks up to the bridge. "Boggard and troglodyte skulls. The sigils are in Draconic... which I cannot read."

"They're warnings against trespassers. Crude ones."

"Someone intelligent enough to communicate messengers to passers-by and asocial enough to leave the message on the bleached skulls of other humanoids. Delightful. I can send Lhín ahead to... knock or deposit a message or whatever the necessary procedure is... and she can attempt to extract an explanation? We could simply ignore either the message's sender or the messages themselves, but the first risks losing important information and the second seems likely to provoke an unnecessary confrontation."

"That sounds like a good idea. We can wait here."

"She will see if she can reach. She can't get too far from me, but perhaps the sender will be nearby."

Can Lhín spot anything relevant if she floats about ninety feet ahead?

The bridge leads to a small island. At its center is a shade of willows and a mossy wooden hut. A plume of smoke wafts from the chimney. A raven perches on the roof.

Lhín zips back to her elf. "There's a hut! I can take writing!"

"She says she found the probable location of the author. If someone wishes to transcribe a message, she can carry it over."

He pulls out a piece of paper and scrawls out a note in Draconic. We are travelers from far away. We come in peace. Is whoever lives here willing to converse with us?

She grabs the note and zips back off towards the hut, holding it in front of her so any onlookers can at least see it.

The raven on the roof squawks angrily at Lhín.

The door opens. A half-orc woman walks out onto the porch and snatches the note from Lhín.

She shuts the door behind her and begins walking to the bridge.

Seems like a success! Back to the everyone. "Person! She maybe has a raven!"

She mutters quickly, before the... whoever it is... arrives. "Lhín thinks the author is linked to a raven, probably a familiar, so most likely a caster. No guarantees, but at a guess."

She emerges from the edge of the mist across the bridge and yells in Draconic. "If I was much of a conversationalist, do you really think I would live all the way out here?!"

"I am Tomas. These are my companions, who do not speak the tongue of dragons. I am surprised to see anyone out here."