The stench meet one before the sight; the smell of decay and rot.
Above the display, there looms vultures and crows, they fill the eerie silence with shrieks and cries of complain and lust for food.
Stepping upon the bridge towards Guldorand, one may final see what they already suspect, a broken body hanging upon a pike, A headless body... Mutilated beyond imagination.
Left for nature to feast upon; left for nature to consume...
Left as a warning, a crude display of who's in charge...
The man hanging in this state of misery is not recognizable, a helmet lies by the bottom of the pike; it's days of glory over, now only a can of metal to whomever to pick up...
The frozen husk of armour; which the man worn, wore the symbols of Helm; Tyr, and Illmater, but the symbol of Helm stood out as the strongest..
Yet further away; a lone sword, a Greatsword.
Blood still stain the silvery surface. An engraving at the hilt reads in elven of a sword, forged to deliver justice and vengeance upon the unholy... To protect the weak; uphold peace and hope...
Now serving as a landmark; yet on the hilt there's also a name...
-"Vincent Valoria"
The man was dead; And would never rise again..
//He is Perma-Dead. This Happened IN-Game