Jonah Nelson was a naturalist of unusual sorts. Whilst most sought to capture and study the beings of our world, Mr. Nelson only looked toward their isolation from the damnation of our human influences. It is with this great fervor that he traveled to the City of the Sea, in hopes of combating what he perceived as pillaging of the aquatic fauna. Indeed the waters around the island of Fawn proved a most suitable habitat for fish and mammalian of much diversity.
The Merchant Navy of Fawn, the foremost beneficiaries of the fishing fleets, would quickly find themselves in the routeway of Mr. Nelson's crusade. Many a day and night he actively campaigned against the business of the merchants. It was with my own eyes and ears I was able to behold the enchanting rhetoric of the naturalist. I was only but one of many swayed by the words of a man whom fought for the health of the world's beast with disregard for his own being.
Yet, a man that stands in the way of profit is a man marked for death. The merchants would make this so. My stomach rolls and my eyes sting as I recall that fateful day in the Canteen. There I sat for a drink with the great naturalist in hopes of questioning the man on his aspirations. Before just a single stroke of my pen could be made in respect for Mr. Nelson, the cronies of the Merchant Navy stormed in. Mr. Nelson, and I due to proximity, were apprehended by the men and taken to a location unknown.
Ever more protective of life other than his own, the naturalist courageously spoke out in my defense. The thugs respected his word, and would do me no harm. Unfortunately they would not show such restraint in their treatment of this eminent man. The men sat him in a chair, lashing his legs and one arm. They restrained his free arm, and brought upon it a most dulled and corroded blade. The hoarse screams of the man turned my blood to ice. The inadequate piece of metal strained as it sawed through each thread of flesh. Upon removal of his hand, and much of his forearm, a hot iron was brought to the wound. Their intention was clear. They did not wish him to die, yet. They still had more punishment to exact upon him. The rusted blade was again brandished, and set upon his lips with the same brutality as was his arm.
Mr. Nelson, bloodied and unconscious, was dragged to a nearby wharf where a small boat awaited. The boat sailed off, returning several hours later without the naturalist. My heart would sink at the realization of his fate. To endure his torture only to meet the slow death of drowning was not a death befitting such a person.
I write this report to Your Majesty in hopes of conveying caution. As you already know, a fortnight ago the entirety of Fawn's merchant fleet met its ruin. A terror of immensity has befallen the sailors of Sosaria. One such account claims this terror to have a crushing chela titanic in size, and tentacles where a mouth should be.
Your Majesty, I believe the naturalist has returned, and I fear he will make us all pay dearly.