As the sun slowly sets in the west, Valindra, smiling, surveys the carnage they have wrought atop Bald Mountain. Bugbear corpses, charred or feathered with arrows, lay scattered across the ice-rimed stone. The elf still savors the looks upon the enemy faces as Winters Bane ambushed them in the midst of their horrid demonic rite, looks of surprise and anger that yielded quickly to shock, confusion and finally despair.

The Leaf Lord teaches that as a sacred protector of the forest, she must be willing to unflinchingly deal death to those that threaten its safety or would harm its innocent denizens. Yet one should not find joy in such killing, satisfaction perhaps, but not joy. But as she views the dead mounded before, smells the aroma of charred flesh still hanging in the air, see the granite boulders still wet with their blood, her heart soars like a falcon in a blue sky of deepest summer. She realizes that she loves killing bugbears and would gladly hunt them until not a single one polluted the forest with its breath.

Behind her, the setting sun, glimpsed through a rent in the iron gray clouds, hangs like a drop of blood above the horizon. Night is coming fast. Tomorrow, at dawn, she will pray to the Leaf Lord for his guidance and forgiveness. But tonight she will hold these feelings close to her heart.

The air grows more chill as night approaches and she draws her bearskin cloak tightly about her shoulders. Ah, she thinks, some nettle tea would certainly hit the spot!
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Great description of the carnage on the mountaintop. Too bad we're not keeping a running tally of total bugbears killed through the whole campaign. I think the number is pretty impressive!
You and your nettle tea!