It Is Mine

   The battle did not go according to plan, it went much better.

   To cut to the chase, I was struck down almost immediately. I cannot believe it so. I tried to protect myself, but the damn thing was too fast, too clever, even for me. I fled into the shadows, leaving my three other comrades to do battle. I dressed my wounds in my special bandages in the woods nearby, it slowed the bleeding enough to scout back to the battlefield. 
   When I returned to the battlefield I saw our dear elven friend fall to the ground, dead, the blade of our foe driven clean through him. A thought occurred to me in that moment as I crept up behind our foe as my allies fled in what I can only assume was fear. I reached into our foe's pocket and grasped the black stone. This stone had been away from home for far too long. 
   I laughed out into the fog that surrounded us, our foe turning towards me, a silver sword driven through them. I conversed with our enemy for a time, tossing the stone about as if it were some sort of toy, convincing them to join me rather than do battle further. After a time, they agreed to serve at my side, no longer a foe. Quick wit is always more useful than the most powerful weapon, as this encounter had proven. I gave our once foe the body of the elf as compensation, gruesome, but a fair trade for the stone; not like the elf would need it any longer.
   We now make our way back North, to push Draugmir along its path to glory, once enemies now allied and stronger than before. Great power is in our grasp; we will not be denied.

I will not be denied.