Cramped handwriting fills this page of notes.
The Well does a passable job of recreating a subject's flesh and sinew, but i'm having a monstrous time properly catching the departed's essence! Early successes back in Saltwell are proving difficult to reproduce, although I can't be sure if it's a result of more powerful magical sources or any of t he dozens of other problems that came with the shoddy construction of this damned tower!
Our best results come out as littel more than Sons of Laz (yes, like in the old rhyme). These ex-soldiers shamble and moan much like other unfortunates who have born that crude epithet, but rather than a result of inebriation or insanity, these half-dead beasts simply don't have a functional mind in their skull. Or perhaps they're missing a soul in their hearts. Or spleens, or wherever the damned things are supposed to be. Further testing is required.
At least they keep the locals away, and they feed themselves -- often on each other.