fourth blood.

[deathwarder]

 [ Deathwing is currently slumped against a nondescript tree in the woods, his journal lying a distance away as he dictates to it. He grips tight to the mace in his hands; though he no longer has the strength to wield it, he hopes it might ward off any potential pursuers. ]

[ filtered away from Deathwing's enemies or anyone who would pass

Comments

[payback]

Mm, I have a friend who's a smith? What happened?

[deathwarder]

A raid.

On me.

[payback]

... A what.