Tucona

((Follow On of Events from "Finally: the woman, parchment and a messenger come together" > http://laurelinarchives.org/node/13281 <))

Seraile whipped round when he heard steps behind him, only to find a very weather beaten man, walking up to him, warily.

Seraile himself was ragged, worn, his clothes partly tattered; he had been away again, in search for what always evaded him, death, the release from the pain of the world; the slaughter of the North Downs had driven him to madness.

The anger in his heart whoever they were was an inferno in his heart, he drew Gurth Sigil and rammed it into the map table... the blade piercing the town marked as "Bree" by spidery hand writing, the blade burrying itself half way into the wood.