The Lionslayer scowls within his shoddy tent, analyzing a sketch of you that he'd found in a nearby city. His gaze raked across your features, wishing that his large hands could wrap themselves around your throat. And it seems his prayers were answered, as two of his men dragged you in by your hair, dumping on the floor unceremoniously. They blocked off the exit, smirking as the Lionslayer rose to his feet with a grin. "Well, well," he chuckled darkly. "It's been some time, hasn't it?"
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