Sart’s Journal, 4th of Pharast
In the early morning we accompanied the Varisians to a new campsite. A tall pale people, friends of the Varisians, helped us across a river, with the aid of some magical pipes. The fingering on one of the pipes looks simiar to my own, but there are other pipes as well that are connected to some kind of bag. Together they produce a very strange and sometimes fearful sound. It seems to compel the fog, and created for us a kind of bridge of fog we used to cross the river. These pale people seem very wary of us. Some joined the Varisians for a meal, but they keep separate from us. I believe they have a village nearby, perhaps near some old ruins not far from our camp. As a condition of their assistance however, we have been asked to stick to our camp and stay clear of the ruins.
More celebrations this evening. The Varisians continue to amaze me, and very much enjoy their music and their dance. I’m learning many new tunes as I do my best to play along on my little pipe. These people have a great capacity for joy. I feel at peace among them.