"Read the following words of this almanac with care, dear reader. Herein lies the hum of the swamp, the pulse of Bittermarsh, a place misunderstood by many a drylander. Folk whisper of savagery 'mongst the mists, speak of barbarians and bone-chewers. Fiddle-frogs, I say. Such tales are as murky as our waters and as twisted as the roots of our oldest willow. Bittermarsh may not be bound by a single crown like high-and-mighty Morvathia, or speak with a unitied voice like Valleterna, but 'tis rich with with culture and stories, with each tribe telling their own tale. Aye, dangers lurk in the swamp, truth be told. Yet, should ye dare to look beyond surface, perchance ye'll come to cherish this damp earth as fiercely as ol' Grolly does. So, unlace your boots, set your soul to wanderin', and let's paddle through the tales of the tribes, the whispers of the bog, and the secrets of the soggy soil..."