Akrios wasn't certain where her certainty came from - she seemed to be absolutely unwavering in her convictions.<br/><br/>Heading out to the southwest (H8), they'd soon stumble across a dilapidated mud-brick hut squatting atop a small hummock in the middle of a fetid marsh, a thin tendril of bluish smoke trickling through a gaping hole in its moss-covered roof. A wooden fence surrounding the perimeter of the mound is festooned with crude fetishes crafted out of sticks, feathers, and animal bones. A lone crow caws noisily from the top of a nearby cypress tree.