This evening around 8pm CST, a strange shadow was sighted lurking around the gardens.
A cold gust of wait, with the rustle of dead, brittle leaves. Followed by scents, first of smoke, then blood.
Something dark detached from the shadows, wriggling and ripping, pulling free and gaping a maw of onyx-black teeth in a yawn, glinting in the light from the hold.
Slowly it approached the freehold, bringing with it a sense of chaos. Fluidly pacing beneath the window, seeking ingress into the warmth within.
A pair of sidhe, stalwart and true, rushed to the defense of the hold.
Alas, as they stood transfixed with each other’s idle chit-chat, the shadow-form slunk inside, oiling across the floor to vanish into the light of the bale.
Within, a pair of sluagh lurked in the sidelines watching with a mixture of curiousity and mistrust, and a goblin produced a home-brew flamethrower of some sort. One must wonder how such a thing could be peace-tied… or what a Thallain is doing within any well-kept hold, for that matter.
In the end, naught came of it but some murmurs of discontent, as the shadow, whatever it was, has vanished.
Hasn’t it?