Dear Journal,
I should have known that with the cyclopes and the owlbear, the Feywild wasn't to be too far away. Though the onset of winter has thinned the canopy, the forest is thick enough to guard our campsite against the harsh winds. This is a phenomenon I have witnessed on several occasions. There exists a rift between the planes nearby, and it causes ripples in the surrounding areas. The remaining foliage on the trees exists in the Feywild, and appears here a ghostly haze.
Though I am overwhelmed with joy at even the slightest taste of my magical home, I must remain alert. The others know little of the dangers of the Feywild. We may likely face malicious illusions, treacherous beasts, or territorial forest folk, such as the terrifying and unforgiving wood woads. I pray we do not encounter those tormented souls.
Luckily, we moved safely and somewhat comfortably to our campsite. This gave us yet another opportunity to commune once again. Captivated by the last story told by Alyana and Talos at my questioning, the curious little Without pressed again to continue the story of the 42nd's adventures in Northwarden. I must admit I, too, was quite entranced at their tale as well.
Apparently after pledging their escort to Corath, the party stocked up on supplies and attempted to continue their journey to Merkemia. However, the guards at the city gates stopped them and refused to let them leave by order of Baron Ironshoe, the head of Northwarden's forces and appointed leader.
Consumed by frustration and confusion, the party elected to confront the Baron in his mansion. Leading the way, Stovokor and Talos stormed into the mansion only to be confronted and attacked by hooded dwarven assassin and a few thugs. The 42nd quickly gained the upper hand, and beat back their assailants. Faced with certain defeat, the dwarf assassin fled the scene, catching a deftly fired arrow in his right eye.
Left with more questions than answers, the party set off to force their way out of the city if needed. However, a lone guard intercepted the party, bringing an urgent request from Sarah Saraling to meet on very important matters.
After finding the halfling's hideout, they were told of Sarah's position. In these uncertain times, the king assigns informants to critical locations within the kingdom to maintain a watchful eye. After the last informant of Northwarden was found murdered, the king sent Sarah as a replacement. Her own network of informants brought information suggesting the Baron suddenly cut himself off from his people and advisors, and acting erratically when seen. After a few of her men went missing, she asked the 42nd to find out what secrets the Baron was keeping. She intructed the party to meet with a contact in the city's lower residential section. They were given the option to take a path through the sewer which would keep them hidden to the city guards, or attempt to walk the streets which was teeming with prying eyes.
Taking their chances on the surface, the 42nd marched carelessly through the city when they were finally stopped by a lone guard who demanded they identify themselves. As Stovokor paused to devise an elaborate lie, the proud Talos annouced they were the 42nd and commanded the guard to keep out of their way. He obliged.
It was a few moments later that the party realized their folly. In what was truly their most impressive battle, and one that I heard townspeople speak of long before I met the adventurer's, the 42nd was charged by a squad of the Baron's men. Under the brilliant tactical guidance of their leader, Stovokor, the members of the 42nd placed themselves in formidable strategic positions. Alyana's arrows rained down from a nearby rooftop and Vaarin disappeared into the darkness of the alleyways as the others bottlenecked the soldiers in an abandonded building where they defied the odds and cut them down.
Sensing Without's childlike wonderment and complete immersion at the tale, Talos and Alyana allowed the suspense to linger as they elected to finish their story another day.
I do enjoy hearing these tales. I thank His Grace that these heroes have allowed me to join their ranks and follow them into battle. It has been a rewarding path on which the divine has guided me. Even Corath, who says very little, seems to enjoy reminiscing about their adventures. It wouldn't take an elven eye to notice the sparkle in his eyes when they spoke of glorious battle.
For now, dear Journal, I must rest. Though under less duress in the shielding protection of the thick, bare trunks in the forest, we are still keeping a grueling pace while trying to keep up with out goliath guide's long stride. Hidden in the blizzard of the tundra was the mountain we now clearly see beyond the forest. It is here the cyclops tells us his people have made camp.
What we are to do when we reach the cyclopes' den, I know not. I can only pray Corellon's guiding hand keeps these misguided creatures at bay while we attempt to find passage back to the kingdom of Merkemia.
Good night, Journal. May the magic of the Feywild guide my prayers and keep us safe in our coming trials.
