Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-31940900-20131209221432/@comment-5735114-20131210205902

Z'shal was walking along the road going south from Solitude, where he had made his small home. He thought the name was fitting. It was hardly a pre-war home, but it kept out the rain and any Blighted that may have found it. It was crudely constructed from pices of buildings that didn't turn to dust after the invasion, and contained but a bed and an alchemical station. He hid the remains of a carriage, where he would store his food, nearby. Now travelling away from his beloved home with a sachel full of potions, Z'shal thought about his route for the thousandth time. He had been running circular trips around Skyrim for a few years now, delivering medical and alchemical aid to any who needed it. He'd start by going south to Markarth, whose favorable position and sturdy architecture protected it from the invasion, leaving the city mainly intact. After taking a brief stop there, he'd start east towards Whiterun, but it was destroyed along with Falkreath. Usually, he'd then continue towards Riften, followed by Windhelm, then Winterhold, and Morthal before arriving again in Solitude. Usually, the amout of people in these cities was scarce, and Z'shal would see aimless wanderers as often as he'd see people defending their home city. However, Z'shal had recently heard from a half starved wanderer that a settlement had been built near Falkreath. Somewhat curious, the city had been added to his route this week. Markarth was now visible in the distance.