Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20151027230116/@comment-5543592-20151028003210

Scire paused a moment, in thought. The only stories he knew were garbage, really. No 'fun' ones.

"I have a friend, Reor." He finally said, deciding on a tale. "He showed up one day out of the Ashlands, just eight years old.  He couldn't speak, then, and had a scar as long as a hand on his jaw.  When he did learn Dunmeri, he wouldn't say what happened, where he came from, but he was accepted into the tribe none the less.  Me and Reor grew up together, we were almost exact in age.  And as much time as Reor spent around me, he spent around my sister, Libi.  As we grew older, they grew close." Scire smiled at some fond memory, and was silent for a moment, before continuing.

"Vale didn't like that, so he forbid them from seeing each other." Scire paused for effect now.

"But that wouldn't stop Reor.  Despite being a Gulakhan under Vale's command, he and Libi still met in secret.  She's find excuses to leave the village when he was out in the wastes, hunting.  Or Reor'd wait for Vale to leave the tribe for his own reasons, before sneaking to meet Libi in secret." Scire's face fell a bit. "It didn't really matter though, in the end.  Vale caught wind of things, and he was fed up.  He married Libi off to an Ashkhan in an arrangement for food.  That was the end of it, really.  She was forced to leave and Reor couldn't follow."

There was a hint that the story was unfinished, that there was more to the who Reor-Libi thing.

Scire himself wasn't certain. He'd heard rumors trickle into the Kagesh before his own exile, but they had been only just that: rumors.

He smiled sadly, and admitted, "I miss my home, Hawke." He cuddled up to her and sighed himself. "I didn't think I would, but I do."