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(( Waaay too damn early for this, so it will be a major disappointment to my usually long-winded writings. ))

Outside the eastern wall of Troll's Bane, a good few strides from the gate can be seen something glinting against the wood of an old naldor. Upon closer examination, one may realize that it is in fact a strange, jagged blade dug deep within the smooth trunk. The hilt of the blade is black in color, hooked with a sharp point at the end. The blade itself seems to have been fractured and made of something other than metal, a strange pulsing aura emitted from it. Shoved between the blade and tree is a thick braid of white hair, a few inches long in length. Bound at either end by thick leather, it hangs limply against the blade that punctures through it. Above the dagger and braid is the following carved words, smeared over in deep crimson color eerily resemblant of blood.

Take it
Bastards

A few hours later, Jorokar heads outside Troll's Bane through the east gate with a steady pace. He looks at his arm with a faint grimace while walking, then upon lifting his chin back up, his attention is caught by a glint, eventually gaining interest as soon as he notices the the strands of white hair.

After giving a quick checking glance around him, he approaches the marked tree with a hasty jog to obtain a closer look at the sighting. He raises a hand and pets the white hair slowly, his face contorting mildly after confirming his suspicions. He reads the smeared words, frowning at the color. After another closer look at the dagger, he lowers his head and ponders for a few moments, silence settling around him. He thinks to himself:

I'm sorry Ayla, this is no betrayal.

He hesitantly looks around him then brings his hand cautiously to the blade, getting a firm grip to it. He lifts a foot against the lower area of the bark, and pulls the blade outwards, jerking it downwards and upwards until he successfully plucks it out from the tree. The braid of hair falls down to the grass. The aura emitted by the blade and invisible to Jorokar's eyes diffuses around his gripping hand. He takes a deep breath as he looks at the blade he holds, checking the surroundings et again whilst proceeding to slip the dagger inside his belt.

Another day, at the docks he said.

He turns and heads back to the town, his gaze restlessly shifting from one side to the other. The words remain there smeared against the bark, above the braid of hair idly resting against the foot of the bark.