Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20160209154925/@comment-6006054-20160225000752

Taervik shrugged. He rose from his seat, after neatly setting down his silverware. Inspections were a part of his life once again, wonderful. He wondered if it was possible for thoughts to drip with sarcasm. The Exile expected that the commander would try to drag his sins out into the open. Perhaps it was time to air them out, it had been quite awhile. He hefted his bardiche onto his shoulder, and headed to the courtyard. Once there Taervik pulled his unwashed hair back from his face.

The rising sun warmed Taervik's solemn face. He didn't know what to make of that. It was the same sun that had greeted him every morning of his exile, promising another torturous day. A daily reminder that he could never return home.