Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-32420582-20150204060459/@comment-5543592-20150206044919

Vance could only hear his own breath. The howling of the wind muffled any sound and he could only see ten feet in front of him, almost completely blinded by the snow. He'd almost certainly be frozen to dead if not for his gear. The quilted armor that all Dawnguard members sported kept him feriously warm. The tails of the armor whipped in the wind and his boots sank in the snow, but he was otherwise protected from the elements, his own access to the outside being the two slots for his eyes and the little holes by his mouth for air. The repeating crossbow was clutched in his hands. He was pretty sure he couldn't unclentch them if he tried. His shield was heavy on his back, and his axe seemed to sag in the ring at his waist. He peered out into the vast expanse that was the Pale and asked himself the most importnat question.

"What the fack am I doing here?" He'd come out this far hunting werebears or something, and had come up empty handed.

His eyes darted from left to right, searching for signs of life, only to come up empty, which was terribly disappointing. Swallowing his fear he trudged forward. Skyrim was a harsh mistress.