Cabin proved rather small once Dagrim was able to get a proper feel for it, confined quarters almost cozy with its lack of light or accursed sky above. Great bear rug took up most of the floor, keeping the dwarf's steps silent as he rifled through the hammock and great chest that made up the former captain's property. Sleeping cloth was stained with more stagnant bodily fluids, shards of glass and a half-intact black bottle sprinkled beneath the actual hammock. Great chest provided the only object of interest, something that Dagrim was perhaps the best equipped to translate out of their entire crew: a journal, one laden with grudges. Paging through the earliest entries Slayer eyes over multiple names of men, beasts, and things best left never having existed; and their many transgressions against a Argun Volkson, apparent lesser chieftain of the Varg. Slapping pages aside Dagrim reaches the most recent slight against Argun: Sorcerer - Whoreson traded us a magical artifact for his life. Whole crew fell ill, first to die rose up and started killing everyone. Must flay the name from the bastard before he is killed.