Hard hearts were not always so
Reaching deep into her cloak, Wynndel drew a small vial from a hidden pocket; analyzing it closely in the dull moonlight. Deftly, she uncorks the bottle and a clear bead of liquid drops onto the tip an elegant arrow. From her perch on a decrepit rooftop, Wynndel has the clearest view of the streets that Absalom can offer. With methodical efficiency she quietly loads the bolt into her heavy crossbow and settles her eye behind the sight.
Tonight she begins her hunt.