Of Guthfreth, the merchant
It was a fine afternoon, a sound of swords clashing were heard, in Felburg.
A youg maiden walked outside from the gate, bearing a look of nowhere
fitter. Clearly she has been strucked by training or something else, you can
also see her shoulder-wrap ripped, by a metal It seems. The wind was moaning,
blowing a curly-straped blonde hair of Eohilda's.
The ground was trembling softly, as if someone's approchaing. An old looking rider
of 40s rode upon his brown steed. By the look of his stallion, you could spot
a banner which placed both sides around the back of his steed. A thatch tied
and 2 spray of grain located beside it, backgrounded by red feature. No doubt
he was of Snowbourne.
"Westhu Hal, Riders of the Mark!" The man cried vigorous, It'd be on a
second before he would got Eohilda's attention. Eventually they led up to a
light talkings which in Eohilda-perspective, she found him as a cheerful
and suprisingly a close friend of her uncle, Stranglfrad.
