Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplay Board/@comment-25344655-20151115041425/@comment-26444332-20151116232205

With a blast of shining and pure light the wraiths are driven back. Glosur covers his eyes from the intensity of the beams, shading his vision in an attempt to see the source. And out of the light stepped one garbed in white robes, and clothed in ornate armor forged of Mithril and silver(think my old armor from the picture, but with white robes as opposed to black and a brighter silver).

"Mae govannen, King Glosur." said the figure, stepping forwards as the light faded away. With his vision unobstructed, Glosur can see him for the first time.

"Faenor?..." he whispers, confused. The wraiths regain their courage, but are driven back by Faenor, a pulse of light emanating from his twin swords whenever he connects. All of them are driven off, their bodies dispersed and their thoughts scattered.

"How?... How can this be possible? You're supposed to be dead!" Glosur cries.

"I was reborn, and sent back out of the West as a herald of things that once were. The imperfections of my last form have been cleansed. My magic is unrestrained now, unbound by my former limitations. But I shall not use it unless all else fails." replies Faenor.