Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20160228221959/@comment-29559990-20160309004535

Athorian sat just on the edge of the mountain side, looking on past the large landscape of Skyrim. He watched a few of the trees part ways, either because of the wind or some sluggish beast was making its way across the ground.

As he watched those trees part, his mind went back to the events that had transpired not too long ago. Back to Kilkreath, when he was defending the city from the first wolf with the group. What he remembered most vividly about it was a pain. Not a particular pain that he was used to. It started in his legs, and then it spread to his legs, and then to his chest. His entire body had been racked with pain. And the odd thing, was that it wasn’t from damage sustained. It was just from going too long.

He scratched a hair on his chin, and sighed. He’d been fighting like this ever since his first day in the ranks of the Dominion. That was so long ago, that he had actually lost track of the time that had passed. But, he knew it was over 300 years ago. He’d been doing this for 300 years. Fighting, running, killing, charming, and committing adultery. And now, it was all beginning to take its toll.

He didn’t know how much time he had left before he just couldn’t push anymore. One day, the legs that had carried him all his life would give out. The bones and blood would have nothing left to give. And when that day came, it’d be over. He’d never be able to swing a sword again. Never run from the entire city guard and get the adrenaline pumping ever again. Eventually, he’d have to sit down and just… stop.

“You’re getting old, Ath…” He said to himself as he glanced down off the edge of the cliff. He hopped up to his feet soon after, however, and proceeded to make his way back to the fort. Along the way, he stole a glance back at the trees, most of which were dormant or withered, knocked over and left to rot by some harmless skeever beast