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Andrion Wilgor
Poisonous gases rose from the marshes, filling the air with their toxic stench. Andrion was glad to be able to leave behind this forsaken place, where the remains of his head shall forever lie. Andrion was sure that in less than a week no traces would be left of his head. Small insects and rotting would take care of all that.
In ages to come, should the marshes dry up, a traveller might stumble upon a peculiar skull, but Andrion seriously doubted it. Creatures stronger and hungrier than that chuul existed without a doubt in these marshes, creatures which would gladly devour two skulls inside a sack when other nourishment became scarce.
It was with no regret that Andrion left the marshes and a part of himself behind, wearily flying westward. Rest was much needed, and after hiding his badly rotting bodyparts in a small hollow amongst rocks, Andrion slept for two hours at the height of the day in the branches of a sprawling oak.
He was almost completely exhausted upon arriving back at the tower, close to nightfall, having used his wings for the best part of the last few days.
Arriving through the shadow opening in the side of the tower, Andrion sent a mental message to his master.
The head was too heavy to carry, but I have brought parts of it.
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