Jonahl s Luck
The small fist of the slender blonde elf woman rapped against the dented, aged oak wood of the door again and again but there was no response from inside. The elf tried leaning back and throwing her weight into each movement to create a louder noise, but it seemed to be to no avail. There was no response from the tall, dilapidated building. No lights in any window, no signs of life or activity other than the occasional scurrying of rats or flapping of birds above. Ciel Ravenswood, or...