At the edge of this great field with the complex beneath lay a village in a swamp, Mohaltuhkk. It lay in the clear loose soil around Flonam Lakebed, a seasonal lake only flooded in the early winter. This village’s main products were huckleberries and wild carrots, as well as lots of wood that fell as branches from the ancient Red Alder trees giving shade to the village from the intense sun that threatens to dry the soft mud depression used to grow their crops. It was so fertile that a clearing with a house built on it would only last two weeks before it was overgrown again by tall twisting clover, slithering across the ground like a tangle of fuzzy green ropes. The chief of this farming society would send its five strongest knights who protected different landmarks surrounding the swamp into the tunnels every second month to slowly wander deeper and deeper into the tunnels, in search of the colossal bell that rudely disturbed everyone on this great island for the last seven hundred years. But in the month of October, two years ago, they did not return. Some say they found the bell, but the sound of its ringing was so intense that their bodies disintegrated beside it. Others say that one of them was captured and “Husked” the previous mission, and slayed the rest the next.
