69. The Elf Called Eryndor Sylvaren
A cold breeze blew through the mountain region which was a frozen world of white. Over time seasons changed but but never seeming to affect the forever frozen landscape, the creatures that survived here doing so by their own abilities and the beasts unforgiving. A long time had passed since the beasts that plagued this area roamed wildly, a sudden calm had taken the mountain since the fall of its tyrannical king.
The unsettling calm had become a constant scenario as even the beasts were caustius of every move they made, fearing that the new threat would appeared once again. Years passed with things returning to its usual pace nothing was heard of the slayer of the mountain wolf king for so long, even the forest seemed to forgot he ever existed. The bones of the mountain wolf king were the only testament to what transpired that day.
