Feb 18th 2010 12:18AM The lustrous sheen of pale, grey nothing; alone.
Above the calm of present boughs, I looked upon the lifeless root.
It was here I found my father; true.
Stinking flesh and bellowed breathe, he gave to me his leather vest.
I travelled home to wait on him, my brother James is wearing thin.
I know about this story. I sat by the lake to contemplate the thought of his return
I'm sure there is somebody in Lordaeron who knows the truth of all this. The orcs had come for wood.