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["After a moonlit night three small elven ships were drifting into the nameless sea beyond the eastern shores, over and into molten silver touched by the crimson of a bloodsoaked sunset. They carried a fallen Elf-Queen, one young dwarf but also the brother of the Islander, cleansed and redeemed in the very last moments before his death. People all across the Realms rose from tyranny with merry laughter, the fauns of the Northern Woods once more played their piping flutes, the highland folk dared once more travel with wooden carts to trade with their kinsmen of the west - but while most had lost something and gained so very much, the Islander now had lost everything. And so he came to wander. He wandered for weeks. He wandered for years, always to the south. |