--- Year 538---
--- Present Day---

Today, Valeif still patrols the desert, still bound by the runes he’d been gifted all those years ago. Living well beyond any other sand barioth, one of the grandest abilities of his runes would be on display for anyone who saw him. Kept alive by the runes, he was unable to die, no matter the means. Should age try to take him, the runes would draw on the energy around him, both from the world around him, and from the life of those too close, to revive him. The same would be done when suffering fatal injury.

To hunters, he was a menace, an ever present threat in the heart of the desert. He was a threat no sane hunter would confront. For Valeif, this was little more than a menial distraction. Bound by the land, he was easy enough to avoid however, leaving him easier to avoid than to confront. None today know his origins, nor do any remember the village that once stood at the center of his territory.

The village today stands as little more than weathered planks and the odd sandstone wall stilling from the dunes that once supported it. The only resident to remain would be Valeif, his roar ringing out each full moon to morn those lost that fateful day. Those approaching are advised to avoid contact with him. Better to leave ghosts to their haunts than to join the many lost.

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art by  Nyne