Maglor strokes his chin
Aye, Blades, aye,
We do near our quarry, aye; And as we have followed the sharp eyes and ears of our lovely cousin, And the angry hatred of Polradia, A cold uncertainty hath grown in Maglor's heart;
In truth, those omens that have shown themselves on this journey, Do portend no small danger As we go forward.....
A fox-witch, and a golden elf, And tales of an evil band of adventurers, Like, but unlike ourselves....
We are in strange lands, indeed....
My query, then: What manner of creature is this assasin we seek?
Maglor strokes his chin
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