Brewday, the 29th of Lastleaf

I've naut had a day since the incident with the branch prancer in the Commonlands without hearing how poor of a being I am for being outdone by a Feir`Dal. At least once an encounter the Ilhar reminds me that I failed to elude him or find him again after he eluded me; the situation is beyond angering me, as the prancer has disgraced me before my family.

But I distract myself with other things from time to time.

For a long time, those of the Arisurer have been studying the history of our race; we search for the fragmented clues collected within a small history book. For a long while, we worked alone, with our own interests in mind. This was naut befitting always, however, as the clues lead deep within the Nektulos forest - for quite some time these woods have been home to fierce creatures whom many of us were unfamiliar with.

Surprisingly, I grew restless with the several failed attempts to gather more information on the creatures of Nektulos from the various scribes in Freeport, and took on another angle. Within the lower dredges of Freeport there have always been those tied deeply to the wilds and nature - those with an affinity for finding the paths and creatures we cannot fathom. It was here that I began my search for one who knew Nektulos well enough to guide me to my destinations within the woods.

Eventually, I was directed to the strange man known as Kelefaroth. Few could tell me when he had been born, let alone where. All I was given was a name, and a location within the Theive's Way that he was known to haunt.

Within the cloak of Luclin's gifts I travelled into the sewers, my weapons gracing my hips and my bow pressing against my back; the lack of information legal or otherwise on this individual worried me, but I needed to kill off the scholarly urge that was smothering me. I would find out soon enough why this man hid so far away from the eyes of Freeport.

He was quite tall for a Teir`Dal, and his skin so pale. I wondered his heritage, but could see the prominate features of a dark elf, which I rarely saw within the mutts of Beggar's Court. He wore old chainmail, blackened mostly from time and use, and carried a wicked pair of axes with him; a surprisingly ornate bow rested on his back, and his silver hair was pulled back into a tight spiral at the crown.

Payment discussed, the first location arranged, and Kelefaroth agreed to take me and any I wished to bring into Nektulos Forest. I care naut for my family, but out of requirement, I informed the Ilhar of our luck and invited him to come with us. The Ilhar accompanied me to the gates of Nektulos, where we met with this pathfinder.

To even my ears, which were used to the slaughtered Thexian of the gutters, his speech was harsh and broken with slang and mispronounciations - I am sure the Ilhar was even more assaulted by it, which only makes me smile when I think back upon it. The pathfinder's words were short and to the point, simply that we must keep up or he would leave us for dead.

For a time we were able to do so, however a pack of angry spirits found Anavel a target too good to pass up. While Kelefaroth and I were able to use the Gifts of Luclin to escape, the Ilhar was naut. The manifestations of the spirits powers ruined his robes, and when we finally were able to revive him, he was forced to walk about the forest in his undershirt and pants.

Amusingly, the pathfinder gave him silver to repair his clothing naut to keep the Ilhar from ruining his name as a guide, but to keep the Ilhar from whining about the loss of such fine things later. I'm sure that my dear cousin was naut amused by the tone in the elf's voice, nor by his general behavoir towards us.

We did eventually make our way through all the places within the historical tome, until it spoke of the Feerrott. Kelefaroth informed us that such a place was unreachable for now, as he was still discovering the wildlife there; while I might be able to keep up with it as another predator, the Ilhar would be a lost cause in such a place.

I coaxed the Ilhar into returning to Freeport, and took my time questioning the pathfinder. Something about him calls out memories, but I know naut which ones nor why he does at all. He is naut at all like my family - missing or known - and he is naut like the man that branded me. But he still strikes me as familiar.

The pathfinder, at some near ancestor, has human blood in him, which has paled his skin some and made him taller; most abominations are killed, but it seems that it is removed enough that he has survived long enough to make a small name for himself without angering any other Teir`Dal. I plan on searching the Militia's registries and the Coalition's membership lists for this Kelefaroth and his family - I wish to know more about those I hire.

We encounted a witch who gave us a tome bound in flesh, written in blood and bade us to follow its path through Nektulos. Always up for exploring, we took the tome and wandered through the woods together. Sadly, it leads us to Nektropos Castle - neither of us were prepared to storm such a keep...yet.

As both my historical studies and that of the fleshbound tome were at a dead end, I requested that we return to Freeport. We did, and I allowed him to rest within the walls of a small apartment I keep in Temple Street for when I grow tired of my family. He slept in the bedrools at my feet, but was gone by the morning - nothing had been taken, which speaks well of the commoner.

I am sure I will encounter him again, as his assitance is greatly valued.