3. Dust

Dust

  • L

    The body he dragged back to camp has faded to dust, her items remain. An elf in black staggers in to camp, a bit daised. She mutters in elven tongue , "the Raven, The Raven. It was him, the black archer himself that gives me life and purpose* She is less adorned with battlement but is dressed in black gard carrying a fine bow. Her blue eyes sparkle with life. She Falls to her knees and looks to the heavens* SHEVARASH, I am Here my LORD. I am YOURS

    Pastrion
    Coravel Dumond