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Lord of Grenlock

Wulgren expelled a deep sigh as he stared down through the slits of his custom half-helm.
They had arrived too late.
The skirmish with Ardus had been a diversion.
Tightening his fingers around the reins, he thought of how he would deal with this latest bite of treachery. His horse stirring beneath him brought his mind back and he relaxed his grip, gave the snorting beast a few soothing pats along its strong neck. Wulgren turned his attention back upon the devastating scene before them.
The angry fire had ravaged the small village to nothing. Sorrow bathed his chest. The cottars, the blacksmith’s cottage, the miller’s hut—all of it gone. Plumes of curling smoke yet puffed upwards into the late midday sky.
Sometime later, after searching nearly every inch of his land, he sighed in disgust when he came out on the other end. Nothing.
The smoke had started to clear by this time and he looked over to see a few of his men gathered and talking amongst themselves. That’s when he heard it.
A banshee like screech rent the air.

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Have a great week 🙂

Season’s Greetings

Just popping in to wish you all a wonderful holiday season and many blessings to come in 2018.
I’m looking forward to the New Year. Better health and spirits. Lots of medieval romance. 🙂

I wish you all good health and well-being.