Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-10197675-20140101230137/@comment-3293219-20140102221545

Xeran sat around his camp fire, watching the flames flicker to embers, trapped in a trance bought on by depression and hopelesness.

I lost it all... first my realm, then my home... He sighed and threw a book on the floor infront of him, making an effort to avoid throwing it on the fire.

He heard hung his head and sighed again, burrying his face in his hands...

A faint hum in the corner, something in his satchel was making a noise, catching his attention.

"Eilonwyn, are you there?"

He looked up, thinking that it was his imagination... or insanity talking.

"Eilo!"

Eilonwyn... He got up and stumbled over to the satchel, opening it and throwing several things on the ground that stood in the way of the answer. He finally found it, some dwarven contraption, designed to annoy a comdemned old man, during his hour of need.

He picked it up, holding in his hand and looking at it with disgust, his grip tightning on it.

"Where are you?"

The dunmer threw it to the floor and stamped on it, the first strike made it skip a few times, whiring, before slowing down. Xeran, still driven by rage, stomped on it again, grinding it into the floor until it was nothing but a pile of cogs, mechanics and dirt.