A Tale Untold

What I came upon that night was a paradigm that had once been a man, a scene that epitomized the tragedy of death.

Alone in the desert, the only witnesses to what had brought him there the mute stones, the uncaring storm, and the sword that lay still buried in his breast, his story lay buried with his soul in the substance of the gods. Search though I did, naught else of his person or possessions gave evidence of his identity or the events leading to his fate.

In the end, I had no choice but to continue east, my thoughts on the creature who had been damned by the ultimate of death's curses. For his was a fate that would probably never be fully known, an end that would forever more be merely a tale untold.

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