Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24449631-20140917204356/@comment-3293219-20140922101246

After several hours of sleep, Azarath slowly came to again, finding himself well rested once more, however, something strange happened. He was awake but he couldn't move, couldn't open his eyes, couldn't talk or... anything... He just lay there, paralysed, like someone had disconnected him from his own body.

''"Listen..." ''A faint whisper echoed inside his head, disembodied, with no apparent source. It was like it was a thought but he wasn't thinking it, like when Elana spoke inside his head. The voice was soft but that only caused more unease as it felt like it was trying to toy with him, rather than put him at ease...

''Wh-What? Who's... Who's this?''

He got nothing by way of response, just a vacuum, where not even his own thoughts could survive, he was alone, paralysed for a few moments before he felt control over his body return to him. The Dunmer jerked his head forward and sat up, not wasting a second to break out of this strange spells, it wasn't like a bad dream, there was nothing bad about it but equally it wasn't normal.

The former bandit just frowned and shrugged it off, pulling his feet over the side of the bed and letting them hit the floor as he slowly stood up wincing as the light shone through the glass and hit his eyes. For a brief second, he sympathised with Emarrel, then he thought better of it...

The Dunmer slowly looked up to the window and saw the sun, in it, he saw a new start, no longer shackled to the past or responsibility. His life, could begin anew...

He stepped forward and reached up for the wardrobe, slowly letting the doors creak as they opened, revealing several items of clothing. A small smile came to his lips as he reached up and took a white shirt and some brown boots, his armour was wrecked, so he'd have to improvise...

The Dunmer tore off his fur armour, revealing his badly put together torso, several marks were made on it, scratches, stab wounds, arrow wounds, burns, some sort of strange wound that resembled a gunshot wound, all of which varied in intensity and depth. Some looked farely recent, others looked like they were older than Nadira.

He sighed and let what was left of his armour roll of his shoulders and land on the floor in a heap, quickly replacing it with some clothing. The Dunmer pulled the white shirt over his head, groaning as he stretched his broken ribs and tugged it into place, the then proceeded to do the same with his pants and boots and gauntlets, for which he failed to find a replacement before shutting the wardrobe and looking to his reflection in the window.

It'll do for now...

He turned to the window and took a step towards it but stopped as he heard a clatter, he looked down and saw a pile of steel swords at his feet and instantly regretted dropping them on the floor. He tutted, rolled his eyes and shook his head as he knelt down and picked them up, doing so was agony but he wasn't exactly a stranger to pain, pain was good, it kept things real, kept you alive and the tought can overcome it easily.

He wrapped his fingers around both hilts, suddenly seeing the state of his knuckles from his fight with Emarrel, still, she got it worse...

The Dunmer slowly straightened his back and stood up, tall, pushing the pain that was required to do so to the back of his mind as he looked to the window, seeing that it was around noon. If he was going to set off, then it would have to be now...

With that in mind, he turned back to the door of the inn and left his room behind, along with everything else.