Rysha smirked as Gorthroth accepted her offering. This was why she'd brought the man. She bowed low. Suddenly Gorthroth spun on her. "What are all these whip marks?!" Rysha paled and stepped back. She trembled as she felt the rush of cold that signalled Gorthroth's anger. The woman's lips trembled as she opened her mouth to answer.
Thankfully, Gorthroth's attention was diverted by the three living warriors who rushed into the cave. Rysha recognized one of the men and the dwarf as the ones who'd been with Haydn when she captured him. The third, Rysha's quick eyes noted, carried two identical swords. Gorthroth growled with displeasure and moved slowly toward the three would-be rescuers.
Rysha stopped her hands from trembling and drew her sword. She stalked slowly in Gorthroth's wake, relieved at the wight's distraction and excited to confront these men. It had been a good day, and it looked to be getting better.
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!
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