Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-10197675-20150813221321/@comment-10197675-20150901230349

"And so through these cold days I begin to quiver and shake, as my quill begins to freeze and my heart starts to murmur. These frozen lands are relentless! How anyone could be expected to tread upon them, I do not know, for the life will be sucked out of you. The constant chilling winds braze against the bare skin that you may show, burning it to a cool frost. I look to my side and she lies there, lifeless, not a single breath. I gently rub my hand up against her cold and icy cheek and feel no resistance. Dead, and I will soon follow. A traitor, scum, worthless greedy bastard, that's what I am. I should never of left them, I should of just stayed upon that ship and not abandoned my command in post, letting myself traverse these death lands was foolish, especially with only one companion. And I know that there is a power still out here, waiting to be discovered, but is it worth my life to discover a great being of power? I will not know now, and as I fill in the final minutes of a miserable end I can feel the pain that is starting to creep within, an excruciating pain quarrelling with my insides, dragging me to my death. I will soon be her, a white figure covered in a soft layering of frost and snow, innocent at first sight it may be, but over time its a killer, a darn killer. I set out to Atmora in hope to discover and find a mystery I have pleased to unfold, but that does not seem as if it is to be, especially now as I am left alone on the edge of deaths door. I never really believed in a divine god or superior being and I still don't, but now I can see why some do, for they fear there being nothing after the dusk of life, I fear nothingness, I fear time, for I now wait as the seconds brush by bringing me closer to my inevitable death... I wish now for a god, a divine, to bring me into there realm of death after life, but I simply do not know... Whoever may read this please acknowledge this, never underestimate the powers of time..." The quill then dropped from the Dunmer's hand as it then simply rolled from the journal and into the snow, and as for the Dunmer... he was dead.