Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20141208220620/@comment-10197675-20141214131919

A whole year had passed since Mautarn had made his way back to Tamreil, blasting out of a Dwemer ruin, after escaping from a corrupt and mysterious Dwemer kingdom. Mautarn had aged rather swiftly in the past year, and as he had returned to his shack and gained a new apprentice from the Riften orphanage, he had started to feel the strain of death landing upon him, therefore bringing him to his final days in mortal life.

Tamreil was different than to what it used to be like. Great armies had arisen in the voyage of time seeking power and control, but fell they had, to the might of brave and wise heroes pursuing that of freedom for their brothers and sisters. However in recent months the upbringing of dangerous Bandit Clans had proven to seek new ways of rupture within Tamreil, looking for corruption and conquer and also proving to be a threat to that of a civilised society… or the wish of tranquillity that all wanted. Times were also tougher, as there was no true state of law and ruling over the harsh lands of Skyrim, due to sleaze in the Stormcloak command. The lands also seemed to be plagued with evil filth, as the wicked seemed to thrive as the respectable were slew…

The year was 2E 207, and Frostfall was just starting to kick in as Mautarn sat up in his bed within his shack, breathing his final breaths as his apprentice appeared… Gloxious the young. Gloxious had just returned from the Riften Market Square, carrying some food he entered the shack. He placed the food down by the side of his master’s bed.

Mautarn coughed and sniffled as he spoke fragile words.

“My life is fraying boy, I don’t think I will be around for much longer.”

“Don’t say that master, I’m sure there are still plenty more days left in you.”

Gloxious sat down on a chair next to his master’s bed.

“Ha-ha, young boy my days have passed, I am old, and my body grows frail. My good days are far behind me now.”

“But… but you can’t go master… I’m still only an apprentice, I still need training in the arts of magic.”

Mautarn turned over in his bed, as he tried to comfort his feeble body.

“Gloxious my lad, you are young… you still have a whole array of life ahead of you, of which you can easily train in the arts of magic. You don’t need a petty old fool to teach you in the arts.”

Gloxious let out a sigh as he then stood back up, he then headed over to the ladder of the basement. Mautarn took one last look at the boy.

“Tomorrow morning I will be dead Gloxious… I will have perished.”

Gloxious stared at his master with a sense of melancholy.

Mautarn continued with his words, “Yes, I shall be gone… and so will you boy. Because you’re going to leave this shack and find a purpose in life, and not be like I was… a fool looking for answers he didn’t need… now go, be on your way.”

Gloxious gazed at his master before then turning round to exit the basement…

The day passed as Gloxious a woke in the main section of the shack, he looked at the hatch to the basement with a glum expression, the Bosmer then clambered down into the basement to find Mautarn deceased within his bed.

Gloxious stared at the Redguard, no expression upon his face, he saw a letter beside Mautarn’s bed, and the apprentice picked it up.

Inside was Mautarn’s ring, which he had taken from Lord Masrumder, there was also a piece of paper with some writing upon it. The Bosmer read it.

''Gloxious my old ring is yours now, I hope its power can lead you to good fortune, however I must warn you Gloxious, whatever you do, do not take the ring off after you’ve put it on, dire things may occur, maybe death, corruption or just nothing, don’t take the chance and whatever you do, never, never have a second wearing of the ring trust me evil and horrible things will happen.

Goodbye my young apprentice. '' Gloxious looked at the ring with a worried expression, before then placing it on his finger… he put the letter in his pocket before then picking up and taking his master outside, in which he would then bury and mourn his master for many moons, before then moving on to the West…