Dear Journal:
By his light! I captured Levon DuSaul! You should have seen me. The odds were in our favor from the beginning. The others took care of his lackeys; but I kept my eyes on the prize.After Deirdre awoke this morning, I gave her my blessings and met with the others. Our plan was to head straight to the Forlorn Tower, taking us through the countryside into a small strip of Harrow Wood. The tower will be on the west of the forest.
We had been in the woods for nearly three hours when we began to feel uneasy. It was Alyana who was the first to notice we were being watched from above. There were several entities perched in the canopy above us. Elwoz suggested Alyana fire on the first target she could see clearly. This was nearly our undoing.
A deep growl shook the surrounding treetops. Amidst the shower of twigs, acorns, and leaves dropped nine half-orcs. One of which had an arrow sticking out from his shoulder. These warriors were angry, but calm. This was much different from the orc raiders I encountered back in the Feywild. Their eyes burned with passion, not rage; and they lacked the bloodthirsty stare of their cousins. They were knowing creatures. Their eyes darted from person to person, sizing us up and planning their next move. The insignia of Melora could be found on their weapons, headbands, or armor. We knew these were not our enemies.
We made every effort to convince them that our attack was a horrible misunderstanding, begging their forgiveness and throwing ourselves at their mercy. Fortunately, they decided not to kill us. It turned out that Alyana had shot this tribe's leader, Vaymeer of the Harrowfolk. As we apologized and tended to his wounds, he explained in broken Common that they were on their guard due to a rash of intruders on their lands which brought with them a great evil presence.
Then we heard them. In the distance, DuSaul and several groups of what I presume to be Nighthawks marched through the woods. We indicated to Vaymeer that these were the interlopers he referred to and began the attack.
We struck quickly and fiercely. Everyone fought valiantly. The 42nd and the Harrowfolk made an excellent team. DuSaul's men didn't stand a chance against us. I barely broke a sweat before I was able to land the blow that left DuSaul unconscious, bleeding, and surrounded by his failure. We bound and gagged the treacherous bastard. I'm not sure what we shall do with him. I may execute him in the morning. Until then, I do enjoy watching him weakly fight his restraints.
Vaymeer's men suffered heavy losses. His hospitality was surprising, considering the shape he and his shaman, the only surviving Harrowfolk from the fight, were left in. He led us to his hunting party's encampment. A simple fire and some hunting gear did nothing to indicate the twenty or so Harrowfolk which sat resting in the treetops above.
The behavior of these people was admirable. They did little to disturb their surroundings and seemed in tune with the majesty and savagery of nature. As we sat around the fire with a few of their men, the shaman took notice of Elwoz and Getty and came to sit with us.
He spoke briefly of a spirit companion he once had, which he lost trying to save the life of his lover. He stopped abruptly during this tale to stare deeply into the fire. Elwoz and I exchanged knowing glances, aware that we should not press this issue. We instead asked him of his people and where they came from.
The shaman told us of a city within the treetops, several days journey into the Harrow Wood. He said they had lived there for as long as he could remember. It must have been centuries, he explained. They meet with outsiders periodically to sustain their material luxuries and preserve what little Common they can speak. Amongst each other, they speak a language I have never heard. It is definitely not the grunts and gurgles of their orcish cousins.
These are truly a wise people. I hadn't seen living orc hybrids before this day. I had only heard stories. I have fought many of their cousins, and they are nothing like those vicious, moronic beasts. I assumed they were creatures to be pitied, their ancestors victims of brutal, unmentionable atrocities. I have much to reflect on this evening.
Journal, The Divine has humbled me. I am starting to believe that this journey is not only to rid the land of unnatural monstrosities, but to experience the vast expanses of existence. May I hear his voice more clearly from now on. Bahamut, Ioun, Corellon, Melora. What a variety of influences in this land! I do have much to learn.
