APRIL 6TH

In the morning we packed our rucksacks and retraced the path towards the periphery we encountered the day before. I was hoping we could get through this forest in three days by taking this shortcut, instead of the usual five days. It was a risk I was willing to take when the lives of everyone in Wildedenn and beyond was in imminent danger.

Then we ventured across the threshold. A strange sensation overcame me, as if someone was watching me. Bradley did not seem to be affected as I was, though he appeared more wary and vigilant instead of his usual apathetic self. Indeed, even if it was not for the peculiar feeling I felt, the trees seemed more imposing, the foliage overgrown, and the air thicker. We have come to understand why paths diverge from this place, yet we have not the time nor rations to take the detour. I told myself the rumors we heard magnified the eerie feeling in an attempt to steel myself.

The pathway through this forest is barely visible and at times we struggled to keep on track. Even so, my pace was quickened in an attempt to shake off our would-be pursuer and get through this ominous place faster, Bradley did not complain.

As we ventured further, the forest became unmistakably denser and wilder. The canopy letting through just slivers of light, vines strangling any and all pleasant greenery, and dead trees rotting while being kept upright by adjacent trees as if resurrected by vile necromancers. Mushrooms were abundant, which I would usually be very pleased with as they are nutritious and easy to find, however I did not recognize the specimens we encountered there. In a strange juxtaposition, this place is full of strange life and yet it is barren and inhospitable.

It was in the afternoon when we came upon the fresh carcass of a beast, it appeared to be some variety of wild hog, though not one we would find in any other forest. This one was twice the size of what we usually hunt, had tusks like spears, and had muscles the size of a man’s rib cage. I can only imagine what sort of savage creature must have hunted it, for it was covered in gnashing wounds and had chunks of flesh seemingly ripped from its body. We were fascinated and unsettled in equal amounts. Was whatever mutilated this hog still near? What could have killed it in the first place? My mind kept leaping to memories of my nightmares, the manner in which the hog had been slain reminded me very much of that beast therein. We did not linger to question or investigate for long.

When the strenuous exertion of our quickened pace caught up to us and the slivers of light struggling to get through the canopy turned into dim moonlight, we took camp in a small glade we came upon. Even this area was still enclosed by a blanket of branches and leaves alike, which made it impossible to start a campfire for fear of wildfire much to our dismay. In an attempt to alert us of intruders while we were resting, we created some makeshift traps in the forms of sharp wooden sticks hammered into the ground and tripwires strung between trees.

In a futile attempt of defense, with sword in hand, I laid on my bedroll that night. After what could only be an hour or two, we awoke to swords touching our throats, rifles aimed at us, and ourselves being quickly disarmed. Our ambushers wore masks and dark, flexible leather, as such we could not identify them at that point.

They made gestures for us to stand up. We did not resist. We'd be fools to attempt combat against such odds. Our hands were bound by rope as the ambushing party sacked our makeshift camp and stuffed our sparse amount of valuables in their bags. As they did this, I caught glimpses of long ears in the darkness - elves. Cunning, as expected, but usually not much for such dark forests. What are they doing here? Are they acting as bandits on favorable territory?

I am fortunate enough they did not take writing devices, allowing me to continue writing these entries in hopes they can be found and made useful.

We were led through a maze-like section of the forest made completely from trees and vines as if it grew into the exact shape it is in now. I thought it was strange how the atmosphere changed completely in the forest at the sharp threshold we passed yesterday. Perhaps the elves found a way to manipulate and form their surroundings to their will?

Only as we were transported into the village of these elves, we noticed the fine machinery and architecture in use, which was not unlike our own. It was foreign, yet familiar. When this fact dawned upon me, I inspected the weaponry carried by our captors and noted that they appeared to be, in fact, of Miragian design. However, it had strange markings and symbols on it, which I can only presume are to enhance them in some magical manner which humanity can regrettably cannot control.

The information we had obtained about inhabitants of this forest were described as savage, animalistic, and primitive. Yet what we have now witnessed was nothing short of the opposite. They could have killed us instantly, yet gave us the opportunity to lay down our arms and come with them unscathed. They could have blinded us to shield their knowledge from us, yet they did not.

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As Bradley and I looked both in awe and fear around us, we were marched into a building made half of stone and the other half of logs and vines. The elf at the front of the escort party knocked on the door and spoke a phrase I could not understand, after which a voice on the other side murmured something back. After a while of muffled, shuffling feet, the door finally opened to reveal an older elf. Upon his head sat an elaborate headdress made of natural materials, feathers and fur. There was no doubt that this one was the shaman of the village - perhaps their society wasn’t as modern as their stolen technology.

“Come.” he spoke with a broken accent.

We did as he said and entered his abode. The room had a large fire pit with several cushions in front of it, and on the other side a larger seat towards which the elder elf shuffled towards as he gestured us to sit on the cushions. The escorts closed the doors behind us and took their place on the sides of the room.

The elder one squinted his eyes at us and after a momentary silence asked, “What brings you here?”

“We have no business here, you brought us.”, I replied.

“Aye, we mean you no harm!”, Bradley proclaims.

The elf slowly shook his head. “Do not play me a fool.” he said with surprising eloquincy. “Your kind has come here before, lecturing us on our way of life, and making attempts to destroy us. Let us be done with deceit and speak plainly. Presently your intentions are unknown and I have no intention of letting you get out alive. What of you, tell us why you crossed the threshold of our territory.”

“We came not to destroy you, we came to destroy a plague, a coven, upon one of our own lands”, I replied. “Requiring haste, we… no, I decided to take a shortcut. That is all.”

"Why, of course. We've seen your kind before." The elder says as he motions his hand from my head to feet. "What did they call you again? Ah, witch hunters. Working tirelessly with singular focus for your empire, never doubting your purpose. You are a rather fortunate catch for us, from equipment to your being." He chuckles.

"My being?"

He chuckles softly, "You heard me.", then looked to his men and flicked his hand to dismiss us, which the guards promptly responded to and led us out of the hut. We were brought to a crude cell made of stone with hay on the floor to serve as a bed, as if we are mere beasts. Bradley kept mostly to himself, I was not surprised he wasn't his usual self with such a bleak outlook.

"Laurence,", he finally whispered, "what do you reckon the old geezer meant back there? Your being is a good catch? Makes no sense."

I shrugged. "No use trying to understand riddles spoken by people like him. Does your head in if you think about it too much. All I know is that we must be resilient and face whatever they throw at us."

"... If only I could get some ale. Calms my nerves, you know." Bradley mumbled.

Truth be told, I didn't have a clue either. Did they mean my body? My spirit? My experiences?

We tried to get as much sleep as we could for the remainder of the night, though I could not rest. Something was gnawing at my mind, pulling my thoughts far from tranquility. The sensation was unmistakably the same as when I was in those damnable nightmares. I prayed to the gods for protection, and thankfully that was the end of it.

I must not stray from the path. I will not.

APRIL 9TH

It has been one night since I had been wounded by our assault on one of the creatures of this ill-fated forest. The elves’ hex that had been placed on us fills us with unholy fortitude and strength, though my strategic mind dwindles, as though driven away by raw and unceasing fury.

I do not remember how many times we have done this now. To slay a creature dwelling these woods and bring its carcass to our involuntary dwelling of the elves. They would carve up the meat, break its bones for marrow, and use the blood to drink and for rituals. It is also how Bradley and I fed ourselves. We got the scraps. Better than nothing.

This ill-fated night, however, our duo is down to one. Bradley, gods bless his soul, lost footing and had his stomach gored by an immense boar and mercilessly slammed into the dirt and surrounding trees, shattering them in the process. Thought he could take the creature head on in his frenzied state, I think he lost his mind to the hex at that moment. Hellspawn damn these blasted markings! I will not forgive these vile, knife-eared miscreants.

My own ribcage is fractured and several of my fingers broken. How I ended the life of this boar, I do not remember. I fear I walked the path of death Bradley only just finished when I saw him impaled on that tusk. I count my blessings that I was victorious, if only to enact vengeance.

Oh, how I wish I could have granted his wish of ale. He was a simple man, but honest. Knew his worth and kept his word. This is not how he should have ended. Not in chains, mauled by a creature he is forced to engage. Perhaps, over time he could’ve become a fine soldier I would recruit for my own duty repeatedly.

It is morning now and my wounds have mostly healed. I can only imagine this too is part of the hex. Something for their “livestock” to hunt as long as inhumanly possible.

I shall bury Bradley now in a shallow grave, lest I get punished and hunted myself for staying out for too long. May he find peace where I cannot. Once I report back, the elves and I will need to return in order to claim my prize.