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This is a note found on a corpse at the campsite over-run by harpies on the edge of the Rotting Croplands.

We got away! I couldn't believe it at the time, but we gave those Aetherial bastards the slip. They'll never think to look out here in the wilderness. There's nothing here but trees and rocks. Certainly nothing for the likes of them.

I've gone ahead and set up camp while a few of the guys ventured out to scavenge for berries and firewood. They should be returning soon. May not be much, but I think we can turn this place into a home away from home. Hell, even the birds must be finding it to their liking. I can see a few of them circling overhead from time to time.

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