There is a gray mist that blankets the forest floor
Not a sound is heard not even the chirp of insects
I can feel the blackness seeping into my mind
trying to take me over
making me one with the mist
There seems to be shadows everywhere
and the Mind Wraiths circle
waiting

Waiting for what, I wonder
They have already fouled the waters
with a stench that permeates all living things
killing all who would drink

There are only a scattering of dwarves and elves left
including myself
Our journey seems endless and we have seen enough death
to fill our dreams for eternity
Thousands were lost at Devils Jaw
Tens of thousands more in Widows Marsh
Even the Druids have fallen to the Mind Wraiths
Nothing of the good magic of yesteryear exists
Just the black arts survived
turning the lands into shale-covered wastelands

Its hard to remember the days when I was Prince of the Elves
presiding over lands lush and green
filled with the merriment of all who once were
I should have heeded the warnings sooner
Should have listened to the fairies before they went a ground
Even the great Rock Trolls had tried to advise me to act
But I delayed too long thinking fate would cure the ails prophesized
now the wraiths invade my mind with their dark tendrils
pulling me deeper and deeper into despair

What Are They waiting for!
Why don’t they just finish me and wipe the last thread of hope from my mind
The mighty ash bow I carry gets heavier with each step
and sleep beckons me