[center][h1]The Stormlands[/h1][/center]
[i]There came a time in every man's life when it would come to an end.  Most would consider themselves unfortunate in his predicament, and many would curse god as their feet trudged along the ground and blood dripped from your mouth.

But he'd had a good run.  Sixty years, grandchildren at home ...

It wasn't a bad way to go.

... but it could have gone so much better.  And maybe with just a bit of luck, he'd start over again.

An ... angel ... approaching?[/i]

[hr]

A knight of some sort wondered down road, wearing a set of armor that most warriors would be jealous of - a full set of plate, obviously meant to be fitted to his body as it moved along with his hobbling.  His helmet had fine purple plumage from the top that was soaked with splotches of dried blood.  The edges of the armor were encrusted with a gold that had jagged cuts running through the soft metal, and the plate itself was made of a fine steel that had stood up to most of the blows it had taken.

Most.

It was easy to tell the large wound in his side was a death sentence.  He looked up for a moment, and then collapsed and remained still as the sunlight shined through the trees and onto his body.  Although now it was easy to see that a large Greatsword strapped to his back via a cord - it would take several seconds to remove if someone had decided to attack the dead man while he still walked - which was likely part of the reason why a mace was on his belt.

The blade itself seemed to glow with a small blue light even from a distance, as if it was calling to anyone nearby to approach and take interest.