Everywhere in Harbat, eyes stare back at you from above, gargoyles standing idly on high rooftops: most of them sparrows, and some of them owls.
The most impressive of these sentinels stand on the walls of Harbat. High above so you can't really make out all the details, covered in dust, cobwebs, a resting place for crows and pigeons. Tall men with beards, with high helmets and armor, spears and shields, horns. Impressive griffons looming over the gate, watching, waiting, warding. One can only guess exactly what they are warding against.
The fey host on the walls awakened, thousands of sparrow blackening the sky, the sentinels suddenly stirring as from a long dream, knocking off the dust and strecthing their knucklebone legs. Madness unleashed onto the world.
The hungry griffons stalked the skies for months, harassing arches in the streets, tossing around hastily erected barricades. They had made a new home out of farmer Hoggett's pumpkinfield, right outside the city, and generally behaved very very obnoxious - until someone politely persuaded them to clamber back onto the walls for a little nap of some four hundred years.
It is rumored that, given the right charms and spells one could summon one of the gargoyles to do your bidding.