Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20160626032211/@comment-5583506-20160703233650

(Alright, gonna assume that everyone has said their piece, so please don't flog me.)

Some restless nights passed on the Padomaic Ocean. Anhjari couldn't get any sleep. She kept having recurring nightmares of little Astari. None of them were pleasant and caused her to writhe anxiously in her cot with the rhytm of the waves crashing against the sides of Azura's Pride. But there were also some more worrying dreams haunting her mind. A nightmare in which a dark and most disturbing voice called out to her. She found herself standing before a pitch black chasm, surrounded by ruins of Dwemer design. She looked deep into the heart of the void, and then she cried out, terrified of the presence that lurked with the depths of the world.

Sibern sat in his quarter's, eyeing the motion of a goblet as it rolled back and forth across the table, following the ship's every movement.

When neither Lyneas or captain Morvayn had been around he had taken the opportunity to snoop around the cargo hold of the ship. While a majority of the equipment consisted of tools for the purpose of excavating, spelunking and mining, he found it troublesome to find just as many weapons there as well.

Kay had been right about the grenades. There were dozens of crates with them. Enough to blow a smaller city to bits. Then there were crates stuffed with weaponry such as crossbows and swords.

''What is going on here exactly? If they wanted to backstab us, why all the trouble to bring us out to Vvardenfell? We are out in the middle of the ocean. If they wanted us dead they could have done so here, dumped our bodies into the water and no one would have ever been the wiser...''

The whole thing bothered him. And while he didn't trust the Mournhold Society, he didn't think that these weapons were meant to be used against them.

But if not us, then who...?

A horn interrupted Sibern's line of thought. The signal that land was finally in sight.

Over the railing and across the rolling waves, the harsh enviroment of Vvardenfell could be seen lurking on the horizon. The Red Mountain, with its plume of dark clouds and smoke, towered up before the ship in the distance like an ominous giant of ash and darkness. The wasteland surrounding the mountain stretched on for miles and miles with little to no sign supporting the reputation that there were people still living on the island.