Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24524076-20160803200831/@comment-24524076-20161024204929

''In the midst of the night, the huter springs forth from his bedroll. He breaks into a near-feral sprint towards Whiterun. He scales the wall of the city with ease and catapults himself towards the Hall of the Dead. He nearly breaks down the door and begins to consume.''

Consume.

''The candles are insubstantial. They do him no favors. They flash a memory before his eyes, however. Well, perhaps "memory" is a poor choice of wording. More like a vision, or perhaps a hallucination. Men with cylindrical headwear! Creatures with cicada-faces! A sprawling metropolis with hundreds-- no, thousands of people moving about it!''

''The movement is too much. He begins launching arrows all across Whiterun, still entranced.''

''Cloaked men who hold great power. Unfathomably nightmarish creatures. Those few whose minds are so broken, that they may resonate with his own. They are on the same quest. Then, a loud explosion. A man is immediately fell, and another is shown to hold the gleaming source of the disruption -- some sort of small, handheld cannon. This world is far too much for the hunter to comprehend. But he does know one thing, now. The next step in his journey is to embrace the hunger. Another capital idea would be to find a cat, however.''

Well, aside from the ever-present Khajiit, cats are exceedingly difficult to find around here, no?

''Guards from the palace of the Jarl himself are now rushing up to the hunter. They drag him away from his manic site towards Dragonsreach. Arrows litter the landscape. Kindly Ysolda has taken one in the stomach, and may die of her wounds. The hunter is rended unconscious.''

''When he finally awakes, it is painfully bright outside. The issue is that said bright light is filtered through a barred window. He hears a voice entirely unfamiliar to him, yet so very familiar all the same.''

"Welcome to Dragonsreach," utters Don't-Drop-The-Soap.