We are close. I believe we have reached the depths of the forest and it surely looks that way. Extremely dark, so much so that we can’t differ between day and night, it is also home to many horrendous creatures I am not in a state to write about in detail. Giant spiders and murderous treants, predators of feline elegance and bear-like strength. No my nightmares are as bad as they are even without this fuel to the fire; If I make it out of here alive, I will describe them in meticulous detail in person, for images of them surely won’t ever escape the prison of my mind. Many think, that there is no reason to continue in our journey, that we have seen enough, that there is nothing in the centre of the forest worth investigating, but for once I and the expedition leader are of a single mind, because we know there is be something that explains this madness, something that would make this whole ordeal worthwhile. The men must not know this, but while I was practising with the hop-staff, I stumbled upon a small wooden shack , hidden among a pair of spruces. It was of such a size that only someone of my short stature could fit in. It was abandoned, dusty and filled with cobwebs, but not deserted for long, for there were still some minor signs of prior occupancy and decay hadn’t consumed all left there to wither away. Upon a plain wooden table I found an unexpected set of items. Something that looked like a mostly wooden blunderbuss pistol with a trumpet-like muzzle and an ammo pouch of sorts that contained a handful of acorns. Ignoring these for a moment, I focused my attention on the most important thing of the lot, a diary. It was written in vulgar and crude fey language and told the events of many robberies, muggings and thievery of which the writer was obviously fond of. The creature called itself Rumčmajz and from the few sketches It had made, it resembled a small gnomish creature with unkempt black beard sporting an enormous giant red hat. It apparently used a pair of blunderbusses as a weapon of choice and used the acorns as an ammunition. The last few entries however seem to depart from the usual depravity displayed by the brigand. It started to obsess over something called “The Heart of the Forest” and spent all its time to steal it. It seemed to travel to this forest and with each entry, the writer seems more and more insane, but also more and more focused on the task. I had presented this information to the expedition leader in hopes of persuading him to continue the expedition, and have found an unlikely ally in him, during this time that desertions were on the daily basis. He was also interested in the firearm and the acorns. I gave them to him, not paying them any heed, as the idea of this forest’s heart was fully consuming my span of focus. I however didn’t expect both of these items to be magical, the blunderbuss was way more powerful than I had imagined and the acorns seemed to be more durable and penetrative than most bullets. Having two magical items now in our grasp, I believed the turns would now be in our favour. I and the expedition leader now made a silent agreement, we will see this expedition come to a fruitful end no matter the cost , even if we are to be the last members standing in the end.