Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24274010-20140622025837/@comment-5735114-20140623132627

Sanaril sat on a chair somewhere near the top floor of the White-Gold Tower. He wasn't quite sure which one it was; he'd lost count and he didn't care. He disliked the building in general, as it was Ayleid and thus belonged to the Altmer. Still, the Imperials sqatted in it for ages, until Sanaril came along and the Tower was in its rightful place. It still bore the stench of the Imperials...

Sanaril gazed out of the nearby window at the stretch of Cyrodiilic land, sinking into the ocean on the east. Just beyond it was Hammerfell. That would soon be his too.

Turning his attention back to his advisors, which were speaking amongst themselves, Sanaril cleared his throat. A tall Altmer in Thalmor robes turned to face the King, as he would not be called Emperor for all the world, and began describing a plan to attack Hammerfell.

"... and our ships have been observing too. We've found that some of the islands off of the mainland are hardly protected, and could be used as forward bases. Once we aquire those, we could war on them from two sides, a land assault from here in Cyrodiil and one from the water using ships from the Isles. No doubt their forces would be stretched thin."

Sanaril nodded. "Very well then. I will tell you when we are in place. Dismissed."

The band of advisors stood up and shuffled out of the room, as the Altmer King turned around and looked out the window again.