Neverwinter Forest Ruthlessness is Mercy upon ourselves

The man speaks. He describes a goal that had nothing to do with Forneskja; describes this daughter. Glaukos cared little for the man's plight. He did not hold staunchly to any values, least of all familial connections—elsewise, he might have fought harder for his own children when the time came for it. There was no empathy here.

The only woman here is not your blood. For all that Glaukos knew. He had not inserted himself in to any lives here, of late. What he knew of this forest's inhabitants was substantially limited. He was not lying because he did not know; but even if he were to lie outright, what did that matter? This man could have been anyone. His description could have been for anyone. A daughter, a wife, maybe something else entirely.

You trespass. If you hope to see this daughter of yours, it will not be here. Go, now. He let the frigidity of his words make all the threat necessary; there was nothing for this man here. He didn't look good enough to recruit as a soldier, and Glaukos was not about to welcome weakness in to this place.

This is not Rivenwood, reminded some part of his psyche, but he would ignore that too.