Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150327015504/@comment-13615389-20150403232510

A nervous, scruffy man dragged the motionless corpse of a deer across the overgrown grass fields in front of a beat-up, yet still inhabitable Weatherleah. His hair was long and rugged, hanging off of his head towards his lower neck. He had a large, survivalist style beard as well, obviously not taking any time to groom it. He struggled to pull the deer's body up the stone steps leading up to the doorway of the house, grunting in frustration as he pulled it back as hard as he could, to no avail. He let go, and fell back into the doorway. Nonplussed, he made his way around to the other side of the deer, instead trying to push it up instead, This strategy worked more effectively. The door couldn't fit the deer into it, as its legs kept getting into the way, prompting the man to cut off its legs and bleed it into the small ditch dug beside the steps. He finally managed to push it into the ruined estate, nervously glancing left and right before finally shutting the door quietly.

The inside of the building made him wish he was still outside. There was a pungent odor emanating from the stairs, which had more or less collapsed onto themselves, rendering the upper portion of the home inaccesible. The small, messy area that the survivor was used to was simply decorated with a makeshift firepit with a cooking pot, and a bedroll. Carefully sidestepping a complex tipwire-activated crossbow trap, the man made his way over towards the pot, lifting the deer over the trap after him. He dropped the body besides the dead firepit, collapsing onto the bedroll afterwards. He was visibly malnourished, and as such, didn't have much energy to spare. The man rewarded himself by biting into a tough root he'd retrieved from a satchel near the bedroll, forcing himself to chew it, not very satisfied with the quality of the food he was eating. He was, however, very much looking forward to the deer, as the only meals he'd had in the past week were bitter roots, and assorted fruits. How long had it been since he'd taken up refuge here? One, two months? Couldn't be more than two. He didn't dare go North to Chorrol, or South to Skingrad, the very thought of living under a Legendary sickened him to his stomach. He did have a plan, however. He'd live in a civilized place soon, but it wouldn't be easy.