Upon the eastern horizon a rider came, riding low, exhausted from their long travels, his armor was tarnished and blackened, their once shining silver a dull light, his wounds pained him greatly under the armor, but he had to reach his home once again...
passersby stood silent and stared as he passed them upon the roads, glancing often between the strange rider and the four gleaming swords that were strapped into his saddlebags in their sheathes. "An elf... I've not seen one 'round these parts for many years, and this one seems-", "Strange, aye, let's be off before something happens, I've children at home I've no time to fool with elder folk." they mumbled amongst themselves as they hurried to their homes. The rider paid them no mind, even if he did know they were there, his mind fractured as it was.
(And with this, an elf once thought lost returned to the western lands from the black lands of the east, forever changed...)
