Caw! Caw! The grass here isn't dead. No, oddly enough, it's a deep emerald -- even in the grey light of this valley I can see that. I suspect he tidied up the place in anticipation of my arrival. The trees gaze at me with careful eyes, and the ravens soften their tones as I approach the rings of stones upon the ground. Then the ravens take flight, swirling, condensing, merging into a single form. He looks elvish, but has a grey skin that matches the atmosphere of his home and tattered black robes with which no elf would ever be adorned. I bow my head in respect; the Raven Lord is not someone to anger. Wizard, he thinks to me, I saw you coming from atop the pillars of Te'shal. Yet, I did not see your purpose. I needed only say a name, "Aegon Tyr."