By the docks, a silvery figure floated atop a stone. The spray of the sea splashed around, the raindrops from the stormy sky slipped down the stone. Yet the figure moved not, it gazed out to the sea, and no matter how hard the waves tried, the commotion did not bother him. The figure had wandered for over a century on his tireless quest, and no calamity could stop him.
Closer inspection of the figure revealed he was a ghost, a mess of one at that. The ghost was missing his left arm, his eyes seemed sunken an restless, and a faint scar reached across his neck. One could hazard to guess it was self inflicted, as he clenched his right hand around an object that was no longer there, although this would all be speculation.
As a crack of thunder rippled through the sky, and several visitors to the Black Rock departed off their ship and walked past the revenant, he spoke only to himself. It was the rambling of a pained and tired soul, his only wish for revenge to be his.
Curse the miners and the craftsmen, the generals and the kings. Over a hundred years of servitude to the damned crown of Sultros, and I am the one who gets this pain? This pain, so constant as to remind me of my failure as a husband. This pain, to remind me constantly of how they needed three chops to take my great red arm off. The creations I designed with that! The temples and the monuments, all of those places might as well have never have been built! Cursed fate!
For what is an Isur who lost his greatest tool, the tool I was born with from the beginning. What can I create now? But retribution? To deliver this pain to those who had ruined me? Here me ya damned Gods, I will spill their crimson blood, they will know Alexander Romig has had his revenge! Curse them all.
The ghost appeared to sit on the rock now, holding his head with his arm. Alexander gaze remained fixed to the vast sea. Completely oblivious to how loud his ravings really were, for they had echoed off many a rock down the shore, and yet up the road also. The spirit cared not for mortals, for no mortal had cared of his search. While it was doubtful his wife, her abductors, and his nemesis were anywhere near Black Rock, or even alive for that matter, he was lost and sought some kind of cold embracing refuge for the moment.