Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25101508-20140710153417/@comment-29458028-20140720081936

"I'm glad somebody actually cares about his neighbours, been a long time since I net a nice guy. " said Ancarion. He continued "I was not actually a native of Skyrim, but I came here from High Rock, seeking to run away from oppressive parents, my ugly siblings and the politics there. It was the closest and I knew they didn't fancy us Altmer in Hammerfel. Those damned Thalmor are making it hard for us elves, you know?"

Ancarion went on, his face now turning sombre, his brow furrowed "I met another elf, a lady, she was incredibly beautiful. I married her way back, probably when you were still a hatchling, maybe even before you were born. At that time, I was perhaps only 45 years of age, young, reckless. I drank alot and one day, I was attacked by some bandits. I killed all of them in my drunken haze, using magic, swords and other implements of war. I attacked who I thought was the last bandit, except it was my dear wife instead. I cut her to ribbons and fried her by mistake. The very wine that you bring was the one I used to be hooked to. It pains me to see the bottle. Really sorry, the ramblings of an old elf must bore you terribly. You aren't my age yet, you were hoping I'd tell you some swashbucking concotions about a dashing elven prince wielding a magic sword and sparkly spells, right? Wanna come in?" (Ancarion is about 70-80, by the way, middle aged, even for an Altmer mage)