I don't know if I should be happy or sad. Sinthar Bloodstone, scourge of Layonara, is no more. Those who call themselves the dragoncalled have defeated them.
The question is, at what price. The skies are now covered with a cloud of dust, and the sun can no longer be seen, and nobody seems to have an idea for how long this will take.
The first day, people were dancing in the streets, the second day, they were eyeing the sky, and that is when it happened.
He shudders when he recalls this moment.
They came from the east. Nearly invisible against the black sky. Three large flying shapes. Black. With a triumphant, yet also mocking roar, they circled the town. If they wanted they could've levellediteasily, yet they didn't.Maybe it was more effort than it was wirth.
I am not sure what to do now... Three black dragons circled town and flew on. There must be dark times ahead...
Closing it with a deep sigh, Jursen looks at his sword. It stands there in the corner, and it feels like it is staring at him, challenging him. "Allright, allright" he says, picking it up, "Duty calls".