'Runic magic is indeed something else.'
The feeling of his reality shifting was overwhelming and instant at the same time. The small green town had gone in seconds, and he was now staring at the closest thing to a human city…the elven capital.
It was quiet. With the city almost deserted, and no elves to keep it alive, the air was dangerously cold with an otherworldly dead feeling populating the air. A large statue of an armored elf towered in the center, its empty bleak eyes staring at the sky with a stern expression. There was a black longsword in his hand, pointing at the sky. The elf looked like a warrior heading to battle. Was he hero?
What caught his interest though, were the runes on his weapon. The runes on the black weapon were very similar to the ones on dark sister.
'A rune smithed weapon. It must have been a powerful one indeed.'
