The Bright Road.  Though far fallen from its glory days, it was still the best lit single stretch of tunnel in the Endless Halls.  The Bonfires burned bright, but they were few and often far between, and most of them weren't connected to the Bright Road.  Whether or not the Road is endless, no one knows, but the lights do stop, about thirty leagues past The Sun's Grave.  It was from this subterranean stronghold that Sir Fazra set forth, bearing the warhammer Lightbringer.  

She held the mythic weapon by the very end of its half, resting it on her shoulder as she walked past the last light with a cavalier swagger.  The bubble of light she carried was almost as large as the one cast by the Bright Road's lamps, but unlike the lamps who flickered from their gas flame, hers was a steady glow, produced by magic from the head of her hammer.  Many could not stand to look at Lightbringer when Fazra held it, and she was actually one of them.  And so she held it so that the glowing head rested behind her left shoulder, shedding light both in front and behind her, without shining it directly in her eyes.  Her quest was vague, she was the next in a long line of knights who had been sent into the end of the Bright Road's light.  Would she come back when no one else had?  Was Lightbringer the game changer that her Lord Commander had toted it as, or was her possession of it simply an excuse to send her to her death?  

It didn't matter much to her.  She was one of the biggest knights in Sun's Grave, and she considered herself the strongest.  Lightbringer proved it, it didn't shine so bright in anyone else's hands.  Would it bring her back safe and sound, with all the glory the quest afforded?  Or would it be her strength that saw her through?  She was ready for everything as she trekked into the darkness.