Finchley

It had been some few days since everyone had returned to the Island of Tol Lochul,  Addiela and her group from the Memorial for Septimal Caine and Xandilif and her group from Breeland and the quest for Catalinna.

The company were standing between a goblin in a top hat and six local thugs in taffeta....and they had just been called freaks. At that point Addie insulted their coutour, and the encounter therefore took a more serious turn.

((The following is part 1 of the Valentines RP held by Three Graces, so proceed with caution - Xan's Humble Chronicler))

The approaching figure smiled. His short gray hair reflecting the torch light slightly as if it were made of steel. "There is no need to be concerned, I have come to talk...and you, first born, are not giving the orders here. I am.'

Just as the whispers of the nightwatch sentries in Haldrith could be heard around the darkened ruins in the heart of Thinglad, a notable clattering broke the quiet as Xandilif rode in, dropping off her horse before the beast had come to a stop and looked around for her companions. She noted them near a fire, wearily tending to their gear and animals. 

In a back corner of Bree’s Prancing Pony, a curious quartet had taken over a table and had held it for most of the night. Xandilif, the Champion of the Azure Faithful sat with her back to the wall, heavy steel boots up on the table as she drank Grog. Beside her, trying her best to not look like she was hiding beside Lif’s armored bulk was Finchley, a large collection of empty bowls around her as she was apparently trying to clear out Barliman’s stew supply.

(The following takes place immediate after Moyna's Children - Part 4 - Xan's Humble Chronicler)

Xandilif looked up, face splattered with blood and brain, still holding the unlucky Sorcerer by the head, and glared at the elf on horseback. "Who the feck are you?

Finchley peered around the corner and gasped aloud at the sight of an undead hand choking Cat. She looked for Lif and called out, "Lif! Is it them? The Unsealed?" A horrible sinking feeling grows in the pit of her stomach. If this is her fault...

After a picturesque ride through the Breeland countryside, Xandilif, Finchley and Eduwiges rode into Trestlebridge, locals dodging out of their way. Drawing her warhorse to a halt with a clatter, Xandilif looked around. "This place still looks like a burning latrine no one has buried yet. Ya think the 500th time the orcs had burned them out they would get the bright idea to move the town elsewhere or build a fecking wall?”