Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29461586-20150518062512/@comment-5543592-20150519235304

The castle loomed into sight, and Scire suddenly realized he didn't want to go to the dungeons. Well, he hadn't wanted to go to the dungeons at all, but certainly not now. The thought of being in a cramped, decrepit, lightless pit horrified him. And he slowed to a stop.

"Hey, elf-"

"I didn't rob those men."

"Huh?"

"I was the bad pick in a fight and won.  They lost gold over me."

The guard stepped around to look in Scire's face. Scire certainly looked like he could be a criminal. He had a slight scar on his face, although he knew there was a second on his left forearm, and a third on his right hip. His nose had a solid crook in it for being broken so many times. In fact, it was practically croked. But he noticed the guard's aura seemed to soften as he stared into Scire pitted eyes.

"I know." Said the guard honestly. "But you looked ready for a fight and had to end it before any violence came of it.  You looked ready to kill."

Scire didn't say anything, just looked the man in the face. "You're free to go." Said the guard. Scire's eyes widened fractionally in surprise, and a little bit more as the guard turned his back to the Dunmer, and strutted away.