Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-12599067-20140119184840/@comment-12599067-20140123032258

Jack awoke from his unexpected nap after the carriage rolled over a pothole in the road, bolting awake with a knife drawn. After many years as a mercenary, he tended to wake up ready to kill something, but he quickly calmed down and looked around. His eyes lit up with excitement when he spotted the ruined settlement in the distance, but his glee at discovering their destination quickly faded to despair as he spotted smoke rising up against the dark sky. Someone had beaten them to the ruins.

The crumbling walls of the settlement reminded him of the abandoned forts of Cyrodiil, and something about the city reminded him of Helgen. The town sat in the center of a small ring of tall hills with jagged rocks shooting out of ground, and he automatically thought of Markarth and of the Reachmen. He shuddered to think that they were walking into a camp full of those savages, but he tried not to think about it as they neared the ruins, instead drawing another knife in anticipation of a battle and preparing to bolt in case a hasty retreat was in order.