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The Watchkeeper clasped an ironclad hand on Kaven’s shoulder, “Something’s always going to happen here, son. Keep up the good work.” The man descended back into the safety of the tower, leaving Kaven alone with the winds once more.
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The Watchkeeper clasped an ironclad hand on Kaven’s shoulder, “Something’s always going to happen here, son. Keep up the good work.” The man descended back into the safety of the tower, leaving Kaven alone with the winds once more.
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thank Na’lek
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Out here in the Fields of Glory, thunder often meant death.
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This wind soon came upon more hospitable ground, rising up against the watchtower and rustling the cloak of the young man who stood atop it. Kaven grimaced at the wind's cold bite, placing his bow against one of the tower's battlements in order to pull his cloak away from the wind’s grasp. The wind didn't often rise like this, but when it did, it more than likely meant a storm band was coming. Or worse.
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The wind was singing today, and that was never a good sign
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‘His rage is eternal and his might is absolute. Tremble before his Fury and beg for forgiveness. Only then will he guide you away from the darkness of your sin. Only then will you be saved from Na’lek’s wrath.’ -From the Tomes of Regret, Verse 12 of Repentance.

The wind was singing today, and that was never a good sign. Surging outwards from the storm, the roiling wind churned as it sped over the shattered rocks of the wasteland. Its song was a terrible cry; a lamentful dirge. . .

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