Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24141785-20140201133112/@comment-24449631-20140204224604

Rowan slowely walked cross the lands of Skyrim. About to cross over the Jerall mountains and then, into Cyrodiil. He didn't have any hurry at all. He could feel his aging had been severely slowed down. He had all the time in the world. he climbed the steep road leading to Bruma with a whole purse on his belt, filled with pure golden nuggets, created from pebbles he found along the road. It should've been heavy, but the ring had made him noticably stronger. He carried it with ease.

He liked walking. Always had. It gave him time to think. But Rowan, despite him being the same person (more or less) Didn't think of his usual stuff now. Rather, evil and horrible things he could do to others. If they were to stand in his way.

-

There it was, the border. Marked by a stone piller that had a tattered flag waving from it. On the pillar it said. In small letters mind you:

''You are now leaving the great kingdom of Skyrim. You can still turn back now! ''

Typical Nord humour, the thing he used to love when he was still, well... ordinary.

But Rowan merely let out a chuckle as he stepped into Cyrodiil.