Arry and I flew towards the party. They had scattered, but I could sense they were gathering again. As we flew, I could see the ground below was desolate. In front of us, towards the mountains, the darkness seemed to swallow reality itself.
Cold and windy, this was not the plains I remembered. Arry looked grim.
When we met with the others, they reported that far and wide over the plains, it was all the same. Just burned out ruins, devastated grounds, the occasional pile of bones. No life was left.
As we munched on some food, I felt a sadness that the blood of the orcs that took my father will never be on my hands.
To the ever darkening mountains we go.
Mords of Wisdom: Vengeance reveals itself in that the act itself is sweet while the result is bitter.