Trithe. I'd barely seen her for years, even in vision, but as I watched her fight, it was like no time had passed at all. She moved with the grace of a cat, fast and unpredictable, her long, blonde hair gathered in a high ponytail that chased her like a rippling flame. Her gear had been strengthened with eighth-level enchantments, but was still tight and revealing, clinging to her like a second skin. I'd come across many beautiful people during my travels, yet she still ranked among them, with a lithe, slender form contrasted by ample curves.
It was no wonder Soltair wanted her by his side.
Her allies were less impressive, but no less intimidating. All three were elves, each striking in their own way. One fought alongside Trithe, wielding an ornate, slender longsword like the ones favored by House Ellenwinter. She had blazing red hair, complementing Trithe's fire with her own flames.
