Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-26443603-20140615080921/@comment-12599067-20140618153721

The Dremora were making surprisingly good time given that they were travelling on foot. They tore over tors and hills like wild animals, swords bloodied from an earlier encounter with a group of wandering bandits. Despite their attempt to flee, none had been spared, as evidenced by the stains on the Daedra's weapons and armor.

They had long since abandoned the Orange Road but were following a similar route, moving northeast towards the border between Hammerfell and Skyrim, where the forests turned into the rocky mountains, winding rivers, and jagged valleys of the Reach. They would most likely arrive by nightfall, where they would strike without mercy and slaughter those who had closed the portal, as well as those who had aided them.

Zylnaz had no intention to make it quick, either. Caedes would surely reward them for dealing with the resistance, and as much as the mortal whelp and his siblings bugged him, their input would be important if he wanted to become one of the Markyn... or maybe even the Valkyn. Then those petty "nobles" would bow to him. He did like the sound of that.