<This note is rather crudely written and appears to have many grammatical-and spelling mistakes.>
Fer'.. These days've been strange. Remis, Zaeh and I've started our trek in search o'm missing peasants. It were a proper and long hike.
Since'm chaps were last seen walking t'wards the Chetwood, we figured it were'm Blackwold Brigands. In order to confirm this thought, we hadd'ah get closer. We overthrew them at'ah remote outpost, were.. like three o'm? I don' remember.
Remis kept complainin' about te' rags bein' dirty. Sometimes I do question if there's any part man inside o' him. Zaeh kept rather silent, 's usual. We succesfully infiltrated a camp o'm brigands in te' woods. Hadd'ah seek out this chief type o' theirs. But when we arrived there, snap, he were shot down, he were. From'ah shady corner stepped a hooded man, armed he were. He mistook us fer bandits an' we explained our situation. We came to an agreement an' escaped te' camp well 'n sound.
This hooded man, whose name's Randir, is an odd type. Talks ratha'h nifty an' has a nose te' size o' ta' tavern wench in Combe's bossom. He told us 'bout te' whereabouts o' te' villagers. A company o' Half-Orcs nicked'm away, 't seems. How'd tha' work? Orcs 'n Man? Odd tha'.
Te' path took's to the Weather Hills, windy and stretchin' long 'n wide. We were searchin' fer'ah camp ta' rest. This' where we encountered a tree of a man. He were big, strong and clad in sturdy armour widda'h shield te' size o'ah child. His name's Vermundr, apparently he an' Randir know eachother.
I'd best put this 'ere away an' get some shut eye..
