Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20180511212005/@comment-25828117-20180513194812

Graicus sat back for a second, looking at Alvoran for a second. contemplating what he was going to say next.

"Alright, lad."

The Imperial sniffed. He thought about doing something he didn't do often.

"When I was about your age I was in the legion... I'd joined them to escape my dead-end life in Anvil. And my garrison was stationed out in some desolate hill in the reach. More towards Hammerfell and Highrock than to your dear old Markarth, though we definitely went that way as well."

"A lot of my... well... a lot of the other guys were just as young as me, and we thought we were so ready. We had been waiting for real action after two years of training and we had finally gotten it."

Graicus' tone didn't change but it was obvious he told this with a heavy heart.

"We were not ready, Alvoran. You hear horror stories of reachfolk but the reality is much worse. Savage people that would sneak into the encampment at night and kidnap our people. Next morning they would be displayed on the hills across, skinned alive, still screaming. begging for us to come and safe them. And some would be heroes and try, but they would just walk straight into the reachmen's trap. And the cycle continued. The screaming never stopped, because you see... Reachmen are very good at cutting... It's how they manage to become Briarhearts."

Graicus said all this, but he didn't appear sad. In fact he told it so matter-of-factly