Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-10197675-20140101230137/@comment-5735114-20140103220446

The sword hit its mark perfectly, hitting Tyranil in the heart. He fell down, not caring about his life anymore.

In his last few moments of living, Tyranil slowly reached for his hood and pulled it down. A fairly standard Altmer face, with jet black hair to match his now jet-black eyes. Reminiscent of his dopplegangers...

''Oh, come on! Did you really think I'd go down that easily?''

The real Tyranil was in Lormor, the Daedric ruin where he'd first seen the Dunlammus abomination, spear in hand. Smirking all the while.

(Eeeviiill!)