Section: Wayward Words | 1 Comment »
[Shaw turned to the gathering at Raven Hill. The abandoned inn's "guests" are a diverse group of horde. A story is told by the fire...]
I had originally heard this story back before the Third war at the Raven – during a storm that nearly shook the shingles off…
[Shaw pauses a moment.]
Let me start from the beginning…
Section: Wayward Words | No Comments »
A legend of the Ghost Saber
as told by Shaw Ashecroft, Ranger
(Nightfall in the Ashenvale wood. A hushed campfire crackles as a small group circle the burning embers. A gaunt undead figure masked in leathers looks about the group, waving a few pieces of spiced dough on a stick just above the heat. A story begins…)
“This story is about the old ruins, northish of Auberdine. Not sure much of you all know about this place, not saying I -do-, but we shall see. Place be more less a ruin now, up in Darkshore, plenty of elvenfolk about otherwise. The ruins belong to an old city, called Mathystra at one time.”
“The place still is beautiful in some ways, the old temple area has a pool, statues still about, some feline in nature. That had caught my eye when I stumbled upon it. Seems some folk there regarded the sabers with a fancy. Possibly due to their strength and cunning most likely – but I will be visiting that just in a minute… or three.”
