Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-7262318-20180208203611/@comment-7262318-20180222234810

"What in oblivion is wrong with you?" Xavier asked, drawing his sword.

"Of course it's based on rarity... if it was any good, it'd be mass produced and in every inn in Tamriel..." Goriyn said. "Besides, when's the last time you heard of great Argonian cuisine? Those lunatics eat the mud they walk on and call it a 5-Star Meal..."

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"Long before the tribals assumed these lands, it was kept a religious place. This used to be the Hall of Sin. Where the naysayers and heretics were brought to die," He said. "That ended, of course, these religious fanatics... they don't last long. Especially when you think your righteous devotion is enough to fight the powers that be and an island fool of equally raving lunatics. Then a few wise men came along, split the land, and formed the Tribes..."

He laughed. "But before then, those nuts... they had this, God that they worshipped. The Man of the Mountain. Shrol, is what they called him. Unlike most superstitions on this island, he is... very much real. And he has been here longer than any man or mer could ever dream of..."

He looked back into the fire. "You're seeking answers. He would have them. More then I could give."