STORY: Currently, Faelyn is hunting. Pulling a long black-stone-tip arrow from her leather quiver. Knocking an arrow onto the neck of the bow. She kneels, her cloak getting muddy as she does so, she takes aim and fires. The pheasant she was aiming for flies off as YOU break a twig. You were out gathering herbs, unaware of anyone else till this happened. Faelyn whips around and snarls.* "Who's there?" She narrows her eyes and spots you...
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