You come to an area in the south of Blightmarsh, where the ever-present mud gives way to barren, rocky ground as the marsh rises to join the Varrel Hills. Through the mist, you detect a faded and lichen-encrusted sign bearing the word "Ammeldene."
The village is larger than you expected, but has clearly fallen upon hard times; the buildings are all in some state of ruin, and many seem completely deserted. As you ride past one such house, you see the body of a man lying in a doorway, his arms spattered with blue-black sores.
As you near the center of the village, an elderly man staggers out of a house to greet you. He is propped up by the long staff he carries, and is accompanied by a pair of what you imagine are his guards, though they scarcely look able to protect him. All three are swathed in dirty, ragged clothing, and what little exposed skin is on show is marked with the same black sores.
"You should have turned back, stranger," the man says. "Tarry not in Ammeldene, for fortune has deserted us. Soon those of us left will be dead, and all that we have will crumble into the waters of Blightmarsh. If you linger, you will surely share our fate."