Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20150810194031/@comment-29559990-20150810224652

Corcius's eyes fluttered open, desperately gasping for air. His body layed sprawled out in the snow, the area around him painted with blood.

He sat up and glanced around, trying to recollect the events that had transpired shortly before he fell unconscious...

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Corcius crept up behind the tree quietly, his target now very close by. Hunting in the snow was always bothersome, but now with almost the entirety of Tamriel blanketed in snow, hunting in general was now tough. Hopefully, this one wouldn't slip away.

He peered around the tree, his eyes locked on his prey: A large and majestic elk, who had stopped to feed upon some plant life (A rarity nowadays.). He quietly drew his longbow and knocked an arrow. He took a deep breath and pulled back the string.

Just as soon as he located the most optimal shot, he felt a cold peice of steel rip through his back and exited out of his chest. He cried out in pain as he felt the cold hand of death creeping up on him. The sword was pulled from his body and a feirce boot sent him down into the snow.

Then everything went black...

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Corcius rubbed his hand over his chest, trying to locate the spot where the sword cut through. He found no such spot. Not even a scar. But his blood has covered the snow. Was it a hallucination that seemed all too real? Had he just miraculously survived the ordeal? Was this witchcraft?

Whatever the case, Corcius picked himself up and pulled the fur hood tightly over his head to insulate some warmth. He trudged off into the sea of dead and fallen trees, a steel dagger now tightly clenched in his hand. He would not die twice today.