The winds of Ethol Rethor swept over the sand, the lighthouse in the distance flickered warnings to oncoming boats. Save for the occasional naga surfacing from the depths of the sea to investigate, Desolace was- as always- barren. The sun had fully set, leaving only the fresh stars and soft moonlight to illuminate the region. A lone warrior stood by a cliff, looking out to sea. Sensing something, he turned around and headed up the cliff's path to investigate. Then, as if a creation of the moonlight itself, a woman garbed in white came into view. She sat atop a frostsaber, cautiously approaching the warrior as he in turn closed the gap between them. Then, as if time itself paused to take a breath, they stopped. They watched. The warrior smiled. The woman bowed.