Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24141785-20140201133112/@comment-24449631-20140201212751

Rowan sharpend his sword. It was late, but he didn't care. He slowly went over his sort with a lavestone. His house didn't have any windows, except if you count the spy hole on his door he sometimes leaves open. Some days, when the sun shines though the clouds enough it creates a stream of light that exactly stops on the drawing of his late family on his wall.

he was suddenly interupted by the screeching noise of the kettle. He put down his sword and lave stone and walked over to his furnace and turned down of the tiny valve that let in energy into the furnace hull. He then took of the hysterical kettle so it stopped making that god awful noise. And filled his pewter cup with a bit of Valenwood "greatest" tea.

Parts of Valenwood's forests were cut down by corporations as we speak, The Bosmer, naturally protested against it, but they are no match for the Imperial Legion, not like Highrock, or Morrowind anyway, those who opposed were shot down. simple as that.

Rowan took a sip of his tea.

And went to sit back at his desk. looked up at the smudgy drawing of his family and sighed.