Bonitan Letter

Dear Sirloa,
As you know, me and my expedition party left from Braz a fortnight past to explore the lands of the Hebare. By the time we reached the vicinity of the Hebare Gates we knew something was wrong. It has been thirty years since the Veldttouch but the once monolithic gates are now crumbling, choked with a thick dark-purple vines that seems to almost pulse with a heart beat. The sky which should have been filled with the pinks and yellows of the the sunrise was grey and stormy instead but there was no rain to be had.
We dawned on the gear that you had designed for our party and then set head long into the gloom. At first, I am quite sure that the armoured suits did everything that you had hoped. As you theorized, there seems to be little breathable air in the Hebean lands now. However, we needed to get to Bonitan to explore the core of the Veldttouch and I am not sure that the suits were meant to withstand that level of corruption.
I have skipped ahead, though. There first thing the expedition noticed was these terrible lizard like creatures that tried to get into our food rations. They were quicker than they had any right to be and seemed to appear out of nowhere and then disappear just as swiftly. Worse, there was a haze that brought a strange smell of decay. After just one night of camping out in the Hebean wastes, once teeming with life and now only home to those strange vines and lizards, we awoke to find all of our iron tools rusted. Not just a thin layer of rust either. The day brought more attacks from the lizards and the feeling of something stalking, just beyond our vision. By our third night the haze had become almost soup thick and some of the members of the expedition awoke with darkened bruises. Leather had hardened and cracked, cloth frayed, and some of the fresh rations had suddenly fouled despite careful packaging.
We had our first death on the fifth night. How could we have all slept through Couzir's evisceration, their face still contorted in a scream no one heard? Half of our rations had spoiled and four of the expedition members had opted to turn back together. We gave them some food and let them go. Since getting back to Braz, I still have not found them or heard word since they left. Those of us that continued did so without Couzir's medical help, and the effect was pronounced as time went on. One of the sappers had fallen and broken their arm. By the next day the wound was so foul with a purple black stain that we had to attempt to amputate the arm and cauterize it. The sapper survived our gross surgery, barely.
At least for a time. As we neared Bonitan and all of us were weakened and having troubles breathing the thick, noxious air, the sapper had continued with us. His breath was laboured through his mask and his steps stumbling and then all at once his breathing quieted. We stopped and turned to see if he had fallen but he still followed after us. Most urged him to hurry and continued toward the ruined city. As the sapper walked toward us his eyes glowed electric violet through the gloom. A purple crack of lightning lit up the sky and I saw his face. It was grey and bloodless, black ichor spilling out a broken mouth.
I am sad to say I lost my nerve. I can see that Bonitan likely has no survivors and what little we saw of the structures were ruined as though the Hebare had perished over a hundred years ago. The environment is not suited for life and likely will not be for many centuries to come. Of our original expedition of 20, only seven made it back and survived a week outside of the Hebare wastes. The sickness that followed us were likely just as bad as being in there.

Type

Report, Incident