Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-12599067-20140725170325/@comment-12599067-20140727201711

Not nearly enough time had passed before the guards went around clanging their spears on cell doors before opening them and dragging the tenants out, bringing them out to the courtyard and herding them to the mines. As usual, the prisoners were set to work immediately after stepping foot in the mine, and were given their picks and carts before being booted off to the lower sections of the mine.

Bjolmar set to work as he always did, cleaving ore from the rocks to the best of his abilities. He noted that there must have been lots of iron under the prison and wondered if some of this ever got beaten into swords or armor by the smiths back home. He didn't doubt that most of this went to the Legion, but the thought that the iron they were mining now could very well be used to make the weapons he and the remaining Stormcloaks would use to drive the Empire out of Skyrim was comforting to some extent.

(Rider, chat please.)