Gwyndolith

(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?”