While the Iron Is Hot

I spoke to our lookouts on the way down. They say this djaradin--Zhurtan the Riverboiler--has begun his heinous ritual southwest of here, close to the waterfalls where many of our ottuks build their nests. If they're boiling the river upstream from us now, I assume they've decided to be done with us more quickly. We would be forced to starve or retreat. We will do neither. They've prodded us like cowards afraid of a true fight. So let's bring the fight to them this time, shall we?