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The Death Of Iorwen

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Esterlen

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((Wow...that was pretty hateful to just about.....everybody.))

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((Lol if you found the mage guild you just would have found a reason to get angry at them. Hopefully after the map changes we can meet up I expect it will be very interesting.))

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As the snowstorm attacks his cloaked form, Ashur stands beside the road reading the note. In his hand he holds his pipe - cupping the fragile lick of flame from the harsh cold. After pouring over the suicide letter, he opens his mouth and wonders aloud.

"What kind of coward attacks his enemies when he knows they can no longer reach him...?

Even in death, this man vainly lashes out."

The elf lifts a gloved hand to his neck, and runs a finger along a thin scar - reaching around his throat like an ominous necklace. He pulls up the shirt beneath his coat, muttering a curse when he realizes that his pipe is extinguished.

He pockets the wooden trinket and ventures further into the storm.

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