Note Wrapped in an Oiled Leather

"We came to this island at dusk. Decided to spend a night at the shore, and go inland at dawn. We've seen some lights floating over the underbrush. For some reason, they don't approach, keep their distance from us. Tomorrow we'll head for the ruins. The cleric and the paladin, who hired me to guide them, keep aloof. They exchange whispers about something hidden in these ruins and fall silent as soon as I come close. We've come here to search for treasures for a man called Gunderson, but these two seem to have some plans of their own. It would bother me less, if Rismel wasn't a cleric of Nethys. People say that the moods and methods of his followers change as often as those of their two-faced god. For now, at least, the cleric behaves nicely, except for constant frantic speeches about the ruins. Anyways, Bryt is a paladin of Irori, so I guess I can rely on his sense of justice. We've heard about strange things that take place on the Candlemere Lake. A few days ago, local folks saw a bright flash of light over the tower at the island, and no one could explain what it was. Another strange thing I witnessed myself: when we were coming to the island on our boat, I noticed an old geezer on the shore — and this island is thought to be deserted. I guess the geezer saw us too, because he disappeared. I would track the old hermit down, but I don't dare to leave the campsite unattended. Can't help thinking this island is really cursed, as locals used to say. If the curse is just a fable, and if Rismel doesn't try any tricks, we'll come back here and I'll take this note away. And if you find this note, traveler, hop on your boat and go back where you came from. Erastil, bless me. Morry Focrey"