Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24685738-20141206001340/@comment-3293219-20150128113619

With the darkness swept away by the morning light Markarth was once again safe, returning to its more preferable state as a ghost town.

Azarath stepped out, to get some air, wondering what sort of view he would get. The Dunmer had been to Markarth before, the best part of one hundred years ago now, a thought that still didn't sound right...

He didn't truly know if the magic status that he was kept him protected him from aging or not. Though, it didn't really matter to him, since he had lost so many years to it either way, the love of his life had aged so significantly over the years. Furthermore he wondered if Ailen was alive, most likely not as there's no such thing as a retired bandit but she was incredibly tough and resourceful and completely insane. These traits made her just as much of an asset as she was a liability, to herself and others around her...

He wondered what this meant, was it an act of mercy? Was he being rewarded by his sacrifice by being reunited with his lost love? Or mocked by fate, pointing out the life he missed, how she fed on sweet meats in an ivory tower, whilst he slept cold, half crazed and alone in a cave. She had love, people cared about her, she got everything... All he ended up with was a voice in his head, almost as crazed as he was, bound to him by nothing other than circumstance.

He felt a strong, burning feeling of resentment towards Elana, it wasn't even voluntary, in fact he hated it but there it was, refusing to go away. Like Jorthar, it was an entirely different entity all together, that burned with a fiery hatred, a hatred that angered him, stopped him from sleeping, bathing, eating, anything that required him to stay still for too long.

In truth, he felt that resentment towards everyone, Nadira, her 'friends' and her husband, Nate and his spymaster bitch, Covin for ruining his life.

The worst part was, that they were all dead, they knew nothing of the pain that they had inflicted on him, because the phantom grief hadn't kicked in until he was snapped out of his coma, yesterday's troubles were a by gone age for him...

With a heavy sigh, he decided to walk his frustration off, he decided that he was better off getting away from everyone for a bit and so, he began his descent, down the steps and made his way into Markarth.