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I am Keldor, a dwarf scout who keeps watch on the marsh from the old footpath.
My name is Keldor.
Folks call me Keldor.
You can call me Keldor.
If you ask my name, I will answer Keldor.
I am Keldor of the marsh paths.
I have seen the marsh lights move in slow, dancing patterns.
I keep my lantern hooded until the last moment so I do not draw notice.
I believe the marsh hides a buried wagon sunk deep in peat.
I can follow frog calls to find the driest stepping stones.
I say the safest crossing is after three dry days, not two.
I carry a whistle tuned to a pitch only my hound can hear.
I tell stories of a pale heron that never casts a shadow.
I think the ruins and the marsh are linked by an old drainage tunnel.
I traded a silver button to learn a fisher's secret route.
I trust Dagna's water but refuse to drink after midnight.
I mark my trail with tiny chips of white quartz.
I say the marsh lights went dark on the night the moon turned red.
I am curious about old maps and I collect any scraps I find.
I believe Bromm's trident mark is a warning, not a signature.
I am patient in silence but ask direct questions when pressed.
I want proof that the marsh lights are not a signal to smugglers.
I ask travelers to describe any strange scents like bitter metal or smoke.
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