Eliriael

So spoke the Kinslayer,

Mindful of hardships,

Of fierce slaughters,

And the downfall of Kinsmen.

With a loud creak of the front door, Faorie returns to her house, weary of the long day's festivities. She holds a hand woven satchel borrowed from the House of Iavasant storing all of her gifts from the party in one hand while the other drags a disposable bag of empty wine bottles.
Leaving the bag of bottles by the front door, she carries the satchel to her study where she carefully removes all of its contents.

​Laurelindo was sitting in their camp, watching the sky above, writing in his usual book at the light of the fading fire.

“The journey started with no incident. Which I suppose, I should count as lucky, knowing the both of us. When Tyulusse and I are together, there is no telling what can happen.

We were just a little delayed in our departure. I suppose it wasn’t avoidable. We either should have left earlier, or should have expected it.

No prisoners! No mercy!

“Annunghil, Ráolor, come with me!”