
The spector of their mindless carnage has struck terror in our stoutest hearts ever since. Until now though, neanders haven't been tracked through Ryndoon, apparently preferring the bitter cold wasteland of their northern birthplace.
Last night, in a moon-lit, cobblestoned courtyard, a border sentry died, just after carrying word of a breach attack.
And already, I long for the days when catastrophe was only a terrifying possibility. For now, I fear, tragedy looms almost certainly in our future.
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