18th of Mirtul, 1492 DR
The silent watchtower stands bathed in the light of the half moon shining overhead. Holding a torch, Nimly chuckles and gestures at the bodies of the gnome and halfling in the doorway. “No, they won’t be finding peace with Selûne tonight. Could you pull them clear of the entrance?” His eyes twinkle in the flickering torchlight. “I…
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