Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20151108001053/@comment-29559990-20151108020324

Somewhere within the city of Mournhold, there sat and odd serf. Upon a thin burlap blanket he sat, crosslegged and unmoving. A cane lay horizontally across his lap, and a short bit of withered cloth was roughly wrapped around his brown skin, shielding his eyes from the world.

Despite his white orbs being unseen, he could still see the men and women, the serfs and nobles, the hungry and the wealthy. He could see them all, passing by in large droves like cattle being hearded into the pastures. It was rather fitting. They were all cattle to the God-King now, were they not?

No one paid much attentioned to the redguard, except for the occasional glance of confusion and rare pity that he received from the passing serfs, and the look of disgust he recieved from the passing Noble. They're looks meant very little to him. He simply sat on his mat and paid attention only to the breath that came in and out of his lungs...