Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24141785-20140201133112/@comment-3293219-20140201175354

A storm began to brew in the countryside, on the Gold Road, between Kvatch and Skingrad. Black clouds had amassed in the sky, over several minutes and a loud clap of thunder could be heard, announcing the coming storm.

Farmers ran around, frantically, in an effort to get their malcontented livestock to safety. Nearby travellers pulled over in the nearest caves and ruins. Everyone got to cover before the first fork of lightning came, in an effort to get some shelter, to wait out the coming storm. Though the farmers worried about their livestock, it was a typical storm and once they were inside; their concerns would slowly fade from their minds.

So long as they stayed in side, the people had nothing to fear.

During the height of the storm, in an unmarked area of one of the hills, the dirt slowly began to move. At first, it simply raised. Many close observers would think it was just a small animal. A rabbit or a mole, as the dirt was lifted and it quickly crumbled away as it was cut through by whatever was underneath. However, after a few seconds, two black scaled fingers emerged from beneath the soil, slowly clawing away as the thing buried underneath grew more and more sentient.

Eventually, a black hand slithered out of the ground, grabbing at the grass and feeling about as life was slowly returning to its body. The hand tried to feel for any clues as to where it was or what it was doing there. It almost felt like...

The hand stopped, for a brief second, it froze and got a good feel of the grass and soil. It quickly realised that it was buried, alive, under three feet of dirt. Quickly it lashed out and began to claw at the ground, trying frantically to claw its way out of its own grave so that it may breathe, fresh, Cyrodiilic air again. The dead man's right arm soon emerged from the shallow grave and it eventually dug out his left arm, freeing his torso and allowing him to sit up.

The black argonian quickly threw himself upright, gasping for breath as blood poured down his chest. His face had been cut to ribbons and his hands were covered in sores and blisters. This didn't discourage him as he was determined to come back from the dead...

The argonian pulled himself out of the ground, crawling onto the surface and running over to a nearby area to throw up. He threw up a large puddle of brown water from where he had swallowed so much dirt. He gasped for several seconds, waiting for another wave of sickness and eventually wiped his mouth, upon realising that it hadn't come. He sat up, kneeling in the middle of the field, trying to remember where he was. Did he die here? What he was doing, when he did die? His eyes darted around as he took in every last detail. He was, after all, an assassin...

Kaizen pulled himself to his feet, his legs were shaky and his arms hurt something fierce but he cared little for either of these two ailments. He turned around and faced the storm, seeing the black clouds and the lightning forks in the sky. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer and with his clothing being all torn up, he was exposed to the cold winds of the gale that was beginning to brew. He stood, glancing around and making note of nearby landmarks, trying to deduce where he was...

He, quickly, figured out that he was just north of the Gold Road; he didn't remember dying here...

Perhaps his dear brother had buried him there? Perhaps he was still around…

He could pay him a visit and surprise him. Well... once he had enough money to buy himself a decent blade to plunge into the bastard's heart.

Kaizen suddenly heard something on the wind; it was an unusual sound, like it was artificial. He looked up and saw a gold-coloured contraption, flying above his head. It was like a floating village of sorts, with the ability to stay aviated in the harshest of weather conditions, though he did take note of how slowly it was moving...

The black argonian looked at his bloody hands and slowly moved his fingers...

"How long have I been gone?"