Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24123288-20151031193522/@comment-5543592-20151031204437

The dream pestered Dacian again. It was non-stop and relentless, having inhabited his mind since that first night in Markarth, so long ago.

Light shone onto his face and his groaned, swiping his hand at the air in front of his eyes.

"Mannimarico's ashes, Gerard!  Open the damn drapes after I wake up."

No response.

Dacian peeked through squinted eyelids, looking around what he assumed was his bedchamber.

"Gerard?"

Silence. He sat up, and realized he was not in his bed. He was in a bed, yes, but not his bed-bed. It was a single bed, simple, with green cloth. Dacian kicked the duvet off of himself and looked down at his outfit. It was the leather one would expect to wear under armor. He had certainly not gone to bed wearing this. He looked up and, to his surprise, there was a manikin bearing both his Bellamy Plate and rapier. The manikin was position so that one wooden, but armor clad, hand was resting on the sword's pommel, point resting against the ground. Someone had organized that for him? Was this witchcraft? Where was he. Dacian grunted thoughtfully as he stood upright, his back cricking and he began moving to the manikin. Something slapped against his chest as he rose.

He looked down.

The amulet. His amulet, of silver and sapphire.

For some reason, some how, he was a lich again.