Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150613171809/@comment-24141785-20150614105454

Tabiah walked on the road towards Chorral, the breeze chilling her bones. Her robes were usually sufficent in keeping her warm, but the wind was chillingly cold.

"You think it's cold?" She asked, turning to her Flame Thrall, Ash. Ash turned to her, staring at her quietly for a few seconds, before turning away.

"I can't imagine what it must be like for you..." Tabiah murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. Her horse had steadily paced along the road and they were nearing the city.

Hopefully we get greeted with open arms...

She glanced over at the scar on her right hand, inscripted with the sign of the Tribunal. She was an avid worshipper, often hoping they would reach out to her.

Tabiah shrugged the feeling away and contunied on, not looking back.

"There once was a hero named Ragnar the red..." She murmured very quietly, "Who came riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead..."

Ash turned to her, observing her singing. The flame atronach gazed at her for a few seconds before turning away.

Tabiah suddenly stopped, gazing ahead.

"I forgot the lyrics..." She chuckled, still gazing ahead. She could smell smoke in the distance and picked up the pace of her horse.

By the Tribunal...what happened!?

She stepped through the gates of the city, if it could be called that. Chorral was in ruins, Tabiah having no idea what happened.

"Someone around here must know..." She muttered, searching around for anyone.