Refugee's Journal
[A tiefling's journal charting the journey from Elturel, to the Emerald Enclave, and now on the road to Baldur's Gate.] The ox just up and died. It started choking out of nowhere, then keeled over. We tried to pull the cart, but the ox knocked the wheel off when it went down, and the thing is in splinters. The others want to grab what we can and keep going, but this place feels wrong. My skin is crawling,  like something is watching us from the darkness. No-one else is talking much, but I can tell they feel the same.