Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-27783182-20131222234409/@comment-11757857-20140115231454

had never been to Morrowind in his life. He had been traveling through Cyrodiil to visit Elsweyr when he had come across the group. Him and his loyal wolves were following Hesogorath reluctantly. He had said no to the Skooma, his mother had told him never to get involved with Moon Sugar, but she had been drinking a few bottles of Skooma every day and oning her meals with Moon Sugar. Darzarr preferred ale by a mile. He had adapted two satchels for both of his dogs so they would fit around their necks and behind their front legs like a harness, one satchel on the left side of the ribcage and one on the right. They were carrying a few deer legs, some cow loin and some mead bottles filled with river water. In one of their satchels, they had pronged hide hooded vests rolled up into a leather bag and some metal paw-boots that Darzarr had smithed by himself. He was proud of his creations. He decided to put them on his wolves now to decrease their chances of getting their paws burnt or cut and to help prevent them getting gored to death. He sat Ebony in front of him and put her vest and boots on. Then Darzarr did the same for Moonstone. He had done this many times to get them used to it. "Do not be too afraid. They are menacing, but no more likely to attack you or Darzarr," he told everyone.