|Up ahead, standing by a fallen marble pillar, was a different sort of creature. This one was still solid, but his body was clearly no less dead. Half of his face had sloughed away, revealing his jaw, so he had a perpetual, if horrific, smile. He wore rusted armour decorated with strange symbols and clothes made of purple cloth that rotted on his frame. Beneath these, his body was wizened, wasted where there was flesh and skeletal where there was none. This, then, was the last Sithi, waiting patiently to perform his duty.|
He stood, both hands resting on the hilt of his massive sword, head bent. At their approach, he looked up, fixing yellow, almost feline eyes upon them. There was hunger in those eyes, like a starving man seeing food once again. How long had he stood there in the night, long after his body should have decayed away, waiting to fulfil the revenge of his race? Could he remember anything from his former life or had all that faded away to be replaced by his single dark purpose?