This is the story of Corvus Nightwalker.
I am not he, and he not I, though I know him well.
Upon the hill planes of the Homeland, he rode.
The halflings marching in a row to bondage.
We had both been there.
He and I, shackled as abominations, meant to be sold
To be sold to the highest bidder
We were freed by a kind woman,
Whose grace surpassed her kindness.
To Corvus, he gave a bow, the to one which he still holds
“It's name: Liberation”
And so it fulfilled its name
Many a man died by its tune
The lute-like strings flying under the fingers
Under the fingers of a virtuoso of death.
Black fletched bolts flew
Through the inky black shackles of bondage
A bloody feather, a reminder of their fate.
I passed taken by his shadow, and all forgot but him.
He continued, more zealous than before
Upon the hills of Xifang, he rode.
To the depths of Diadac’s wrath.
The one follows from the mu had sight
And whispered the name to Death: “Corvus Nightwalker”
He took the deal,
Stripped of his soul,
Now Hatred walks the earth.
Lost of love.
-Pax Mus Nightwalker