Last ActiveMar 11, 2013
BirthdayDec 4, 2012 (13 years old)
Next BirthdayDec 4, 2026 (39 days)
Combat
Kills0
Losses5
Efficiency0%
Danger Ratio100%
ISK
Destroyed0
Lost205.34m
ISK Efficiency0%
Balance-205339353
Solo
Solo Kills0
Solo Ratio0%
Final Blows0
Combat Points0
Other
NPC Losses0
NPC Loss Ratio0%
Avg Kills/Day0.00
ActivityInactive
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Bio
The blood of the first men runs in the veins of the Starks and they hold to the belief that the man who passes sentence should swing the sword...from the first book of Game of Thrones.
Dendra Dwar, The Dog Lord, at the far right of our line, mounted on a gigantic deformed wolf, advanced first, as was custom. My fellows followed immediately, slowly, as if savoring their anticipation of murder. I held. My fellows would have thought this normal knowing my aversion of water. They would not thought it unusual if I had not followed at all. I was not thinking of the river. In truth, I had not noticed my fellows advance. My eyes affixed on the She-Elf. She sat atop her exhausted white horse in beautiful defiance. Her image enthralled me. Suddenly, I noticed she was murmuring softly, her lips almost unmoving...almost. She was casting a spell, it was a trap! I inhaled sharply to warn my fellows, but instead my life, that quick, flashed before me. It was a vision of horror. The ugliness of my own doing. I spurred my mount savagely without hesitation attempting to close with my fellows into the trap. Without warning, as if a dam holding a great sea had burst, and an ocean came at us from around the northern bend. My fellows and I were caught. First, I instinctively tried to swim, fighting for my life. But I quickly came to my senses and let the waters take me into oblivion.
-- Believed to be the final reflections of Khamul, The Dragon Lord, Second of the Nine. Author unknown. Inspired by TLotR J.R.R, Tolkien
Dendra Dwar, The Dog Lord, at the far right of our line, mounted on a gigantic deformed wolf, advanced first, as was custom. My fellows followed immediately, slowly, as if savoring their anticipation of murder. I held. My fellows would have thought this normal knowing my aversion of water. They would not thought it unusual if I had not followed at all. I was not thinking of the river. In truth, I had not noticed my fellows advance. My eyes affixed on the She-Elf. She sat atop her exhausted white horse in beautiful defiance. Her image enthralled me. Suddenly, I noticed she was murmuring softly, her lips almost unmoving...almost. She was casting a spell, it was a trap! I inhaled sharply to warn my fellows, but instead my life, that quick, flashed before me. It was a vision of horror. The ugliness of my own doing. I spurred my mount savagely without hesitation attempting to close with my fellows into the trap. Without warning, as if a dam holding a great sea had burst, and an ocean came at us from around the northern bend. My fellows and I were caught. First, I instinctively tried to swim, fighting for my life. But I quickly came to my senses and let the waters take me into oblivion.
-- Believed to be the final reflections of Khamul, The Dragon Lord, Second of the Nine. Author unknown. Inspired by TLotR J.R.R, Tolkien
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