Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150321040314/@comment-24942837-20150321201519

Julius looked around in his sad, pathetic little room he called Safety.

Julius was in a prison located in Whiterun. No, he was prisoner. However, the lower catacombs of the Dragonsreach Dungeon seemed to serve as an excellent living quarters. Currently, he lie flat on his back, looking out the small cell window to Skyrim, which was conveniently placed close to the ground.

The sky was raining, and survivors of Whiterun carried on with their dull, boring lives. It was truly sad.

Julius would linger beside this window for hours sometimes, only moving if he needed to relieve himself or if he required a beverage or bread. Rarely would Julius ever appear out in the market, instead keeping to himself and avoiding others. For many hours, Julius would sleep.

It appeared his soul and spirit had moved on, and all that remained was a lingering corpse, stuck in limbo and deciding if he should just end his miserable life or wait and see if a new hero would emerge.

Of course, if a true hero, from the bottom to the edge of his heart, emerged, and many rallied behind him, the Imperial Veteran would not hesitate to ally himself with such a brave soul.

Alas, that day had passed, and the Dragonborn was now the enemy. Now it appeared he only waited for the next day of Heroes.