Siren

Logbook entries

Log;
Our efforts to map and explore the regions of the new found world have become increasingly more difficult and dangerous. If not for the obvious threat of dragons, it seems we have now ventured into siren territory, or, they have ventured towards us. Despite our circumstances it is good to know that these creatures seem to closely resemble my specimens back home at my mountain base. It is however, good to note that these creatures still have their differences. In contrast to my own specimen, are these much more feral, relentless and even more vicious. Which is understandable from a creature not raised in captivity, or used to regular feeding times and human interaction. These creatures have no certainty of their next meal, so they have to make sure they make every opportunity count. Which makes traveling these parts much more dangerous then I initially expected, as this breed will seek out it's pray, rather then letting the prey come to them, like my own. The earplugs I had invented for my 'domesticated' breed seem to be of little use here at times. They do help, but not as much as i had hoped. Worse even, when i observed one of my crew actually taking out the earplugs when he was under their influence. It's as if they really root themselves into your mind, know your tricks and adapt to them. Despite the many similarities to my domestic breed these are much more cunning and smart. Where as my own breed simply lure their pray into reach, these seem to take over your mind completely, sometimes even causing lasting damage to the psyche even long after you seemed to have escaped. This, I observed in another crew lid of mine, Derick, he got lured a week ago by a lone siren in the salt water river we had come across. While we were taking water and flora samples we had failed to notice Derick stalking off, seemingly having heard something none of us had. Luckily we quickly concluded it must've been a sirens call and managed to drag him out of his stupor, but not after he had attacked another of our party who had tried to block his path. Not long after the spell had likely taken it's toll as he passed out 2 miles down the river as we cautiously followed him. We brought him back to camp and when he had woken up he was sick as could be.
Symptoms showed were; vivid hallucinations, nightmares while in a fever induced sleep, headaches, nausea and puking, fits of aggression towards others and his own body, lack of hunger or thirst, having lost sense of balance and increased nausea when walking any direction except the one where the siren supposedly still was no matter how far away, and what seemed like grief; crying and begging the party to let him leave, trying to convince the others to join him or simply trying to have them change course.
We managed to keep him around for 5 days, force feeding him bread and water which he would puke up not minutes later. On the 5th days he woke up screaming in agony and never stopped unless it was to puke up blood, That evening he had seemingly choked on the then never stopping flow of blood he kept coughing up, blood that by then had started to suspiciously reek of salt water. After our medic had confirmed him dead, by some wickedly twisted curse put on him he started to inhale again. Through the never ceasing flow of blood and salt water. I know the sound will always haunt me now. Gurgling and sick, deep bubbling inhales. Spluttering, coughing, and puking on the exhale. The sound grating and pained.
He stood then, eyes hauntingly empty, staring ahead as if he could already see the siren no matter how far away she was. The man that rose then, that wasn't Derick anymore. A husk of a man we once knew. The curse put upon him the only thing left as it lead his lifeless body towards his brutal end.

Even days after it happened I still wonder, if we should've just thrown him into that river ourselves on the first day. Maybe we should have just shot him right then and there the moment he walked off. He was already gone when he took that first step, but we had hope, maybe not for him anymore, but i know, deep within each of us we hoped for mercy, because if Derick couldn't make a recovery from this, then what does that bode for us?

Log;
There's eight of us left now. From the 15 we came into this hell hole with. All from sirens. Their treat us like live stock. It's like they herd us towards them no matter where we go. We came upon a swamp about 4 days ago I believe. I cant keep time here. The days bleed together, but we keep marching on, maybe we're all enchanted by those sea witches and we all just don't know it. As soon as we entered the swamp we already lost track of 2 of our guys. Lost another one yesterday when we came across a village. I'm not sure what to think of the fact that we all knew there was no one there. We had no hope. Unsurprisingly, the village was empty. We managed to kill a siren though. Disgusting creatures. I felt nothing but satisfaction as it writhed beneath my spear. Twisting the pole in its guts and feeling the creatures insides wrap around the metal. Pulling it out and stabbing it into its neck ripping it's vocal chords. I don't care if the creature survived, at least it wont be able to lure us with that sickeningly, beautiful voice. A wonderful sound it is, magnificent. How the world looks so full of beauty and light when it sings to us. A welcoming embrace. Hope and love. Warmth and comfort. I hope it starves, slowly.