Original forum post by Silithus Zerr on September 20th, 2008

Before him, lie the vast reaches of the eastern deadlands, the blackened landscape riddled with pores of greenish ooze. Storm clouds swirled angrily above the twisted bones of the old forests, casting a shadow even during the day. The sounds of the undead were audible even here at the border, shambling forms lit dramatically every few moments by jagged
streaks of lightning. The entirety of the picture seemed to contrast heavily to what lay behind him, and Boah reflected on the pastures of flowing wheat, on the stern hillsides and gentle peace that he was defending.

Looking down, he could see his reflection in a small gathering of water drainoff, from theblightlands. His shoulders, arms, legs and calves covered in ornate platemale as black as night, he stands at a height that would be imposing to even an elf. The many scars on his chest and back covered with a brown cloak, and his head covered with a hood of the same material. Heavy plate gauntlets adorned his claws, talons piercing outward through the tips of each finger only to grasp the hilt of his sword.. an enormous two handed blade seemingly forged out of metallic bone. Dark emerald scales showing in the gaps of his attire, he is the very image of a strong Sslik warrior in his prime, although somewhat beaten down by the ravages of time and war. Finally, his gaze drawn upward across blood
stained armor and sleek sword, he stops to stare into the mirror image of his eyes..
normally where there would be whites, a pure black has replaced. Twin pupils outlined only by the faint azure pit viper slits of his heritage, somehow changed as he had begun to gaze into the realm of spirits. Snarling, he picked up the blade forged with Valkor's bones as easily as if it were a toy, and stalked into the blight.. the only sound being the hiss of his breath, the thunder overhead, and the chant of dead faces arising before him.

(To be continued)