Thirenel stood upon the large hill which his estate had stood for years, overlooking the southern chetwood and it's surrounds as the night sky glowed firey orange, great plumes of smoke billowing forth into the skies of the far off farmstead. He watched his usually jovial face carried a grim expression, this draught seemed to continue to worsen and the celebrations of men would be the end of his long fought for peace if they couldn't learn to manage themselves...
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((The House of Willows))
