Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24810427-20140315230549/@comment-3293219-20140423100700

(Shall we get this underway?)

Geoth marched up to the gates of Solitude, his remaining eye looked up, examining the gate and taking in its every detail. He couldn't believe that he was doing this again, after all these years, serving the empire and always ending up here, at the recruiting office.

He wasn't a young man anymore; his youth was just a memory, an experience that he barely even remembered anymore as the last few centuries had slowly eaten away at his soul. The guards opened the gates for him, suspicious of his armour but they decided not to question it as it looked so old, that it could have been looted off of a corpse, in an old ruin. The Dunmer marched through the streets, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword and his back up straight, like he would have done as a proud soldier of the Imperial Legion, back in the day...

He turned a few heads from the children, who believed that he was a Blade but his armour and his rank were from centuries ago, long before the Blades were branded 'traitors' by the Altmeri Dominion. The Dunmer then caught the attention of a milky eyed nord, who was the spitting image of himself, only he knew when to give up, which was always Geoth's problem. The two of them were so similar, veterans whose pasts defined them, who carried their scars and injuries from the battlefield and into their homes.

He marched up the hill and entered the courtyard, swallowing his pride as he went to enlist once more. The Dunmer ignored the gaze of the guards as he made his way through, to the office of General Tullias...

