Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24123288-20150328222815/@comment-12599067-20150330000843

Clarent was in deep shit.

Five days ago, he hadn't been in as much trouble as he was now. Life had been okay. It hadn't been great, or even really good, but it had certainly been better than what it had turned into over the course of the last few day. At least then he hadn't been running again.

But now he was being hunted. Again.

He didn't know who it was. He wasn't even entirely certain it was a who, because he, she, or it moved fast, fought hard, didn't tire, and always knew where to find him. And it didn't stop. Clarent didn't know what, but something drove he, she, or it to pursue him across all of Skyrim itself.

Which was why he was where he was now. Out in the wilderness, looking for somewhere to hide. Just like the good old days.

So of course, like in those days, he'd gone back to the Barrow. Bleak Falls Barrow. Almost gave him the notion that he was coming home.

Almost.

Now that he approached it, he was two figures outlined against the snow, standing watch outside the door. Bandits, no doubt. He cursed under his breath. He didn't want to risk an arrow in his chest, but he couldn't afford any delays. He had to get into the Barrow right now.

So he crept closer to the barrow, pooling magicka into both palms as he approached. He made certain to stay out of the guard's immediate line of sight, trying to get a little closer so he could see what he was dealing with.