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Old 05-29-2004, 01:47 PM   #137
Himaran
Ash of Orodruin
 
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Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: Thangorodrim
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Graring awoke the next morning in a comfortable bed of grass. He yawned, stretched, and stood, rubbing his eyes in a lazy fashion. Then a multitude of thoughts struck him like a thunderbolt. The corsairs! The army! The battle! He turned and rushed out of the forest, making for the beach.

The corsair skidded to a halt as his feet touched the warm sand. Everyone was gone. The corsairs, and their presumable captors, were gone; as were any traces of Devon's forces. But the traces of battle were unmistakeable; arrows, knives, broken swords and dried blood covered a large area to his left.

I've been left behind! Abandoned to die here! Then another thought came to him. No.... I've escaped! They couldn't catch me! The war will never end until I die, and I remain.... And so the corsairs had won.

Pride swelled within him, and the fact that he would have to live out his days on the deserted island did not bother him in the least. He had survived, and so the corsair spirit would live on forever. Looked towards the sea again, he saluted his dead comrades with an imaginary cutlass. And, calling out with an ancient cry, Graring released all the hate, anger and rebellion within him.

"Umbar, Umbar, Umbar!"
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