Sari Mosa

The doors flung open in a wild display. Marching through the door, a small armored warrior strode in with regal confidence. These halls had no lowly orcs. They were filled with black uruk guards in dutiful watch, far more disciplined than the standard orc kind. The halls were fluttering with slaves, Stout-Axe, Nurnhoth, and others. Near the end of the throne room, under a massive stain glass window, was a flight of stairs guarded by Black Numenorean elites. Atop the stairs was a throne.

A crimson and black dress was adorned on a young girl, barely eleven years of age. She was dressed like dark royalty, wearing a black crown upon her head. Her hair had grown long, neatly brushed back in curled locks. Her skin was white like snow. Her eyes were a dark gold brown. Seated upon a throne far larger than her, she held a sorcerer's scepter in her little hands, gazing out the red stain glass windows in the dark throne room belonging to her father.

She was leaving.

It had been quite the night at the Huntsman and the Stag. Nimraph and Eira had confessed their feelings to each other, only after a cruel joke from Lycaon forced her bitterly silent anger. Lycaon had announced that a drinking game was to be held. On top of this, Eira became reacquainted with another like herself and Nimraph, Goldgel of Harad.

As the three had gathered around the table for the drinking game, a familiar dark presence walked into the inn. Kallan, the bandaged travel, had entered the Huntsman and the Stag. Then...

Then it all happened so fast.

Eira had been shocked when Demlemoth told her of a shocking intel: her father, Aglarzor, had a son.

The broom kicked up dust as the hapless girl swept the stairs leading to the second floor of the Huntsman and Stag. Hair in her face, she continued to work as her grim thoughts tormented her.

"Aglarari, you will save us all."