The Rower

In a world where monsters roam just outside the gates yet the wealthy, the Elites, sleep high upon the hill, safe and sound. Four young hunters finally return home, to nothing but destruction and despair. Fields that once held vibrant crops, are now sculptures of ash and dirt. Bustling markets are now empty stalls, collectors of cobwebs and dust. But one thing you wouldn't expect; was the smell. The corpses that littered the town, at least what was left of them. Piles of flesh and bone decorated the street, charred bodies of once smiling faces remained unidentifiable. Sol walked the streets, bloodied hands shaking with sadness? Anger? No, something greater. Something that crawls through your bones and scrapes against your skull. This feeling wraps around your soul. She can feel herself fading...is she even alive? Really? Or is she a walking shell of the fury of who she lost. The Elites won't sleep so soundly tonight when the River Styx is flowing so greatly, and the rower is at their door.