αzαяαтн (@theashlander) 's Twitter Profile
αzαяαтн

@theashlander

❝Love for yourself and your weapons above all else. ❞ –– Ashlander of the Erabenimsun Tribe. Perhaps the last one.

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linkhttp://www.NoArtisMine.Com calendar_today30-11-2017 04:06:22

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— call "The Gray quarter.' Azarath walked down the steps, greeted by a Dunmer with kind words. ❝Good day, Sera.❞ ❝Serjo.❞ The two Dunmer both bowed their heads while the other walked away smiling after their brief greetings. Azarath raised his brows, surprised to see a—

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— smile in this depressing city. Azarath walked down the steps to be greeted by a dirty, run-down, small alley with homes. A Dunmer sitting outside of a small club with Matze in his hands. Azarath walked past the Dunmer and up the steps, pushing the door open. To be greeted—

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—by a dozen red eyes. All Dunmer in this warm tavern to have a good drink before walking out to the cold. Rather than looking away, they all smiled and raised their flagons. ❝Brother! Welcome! Please, make yourself at home.❞ Azarath was shocked to see hospitality from his—

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— people. They all went back to their business. A few mer arm wrestling, a few Dunmeri mistresses having a good banter. A few too drunk to know what they're doing. The Innkeep waves over the Dunmer with a grin on his face. Azarath nervously jerked a nod, sitting on a stool. —

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—. To Azarath's surprise, the Mer served a cup of Sujamma to the Fellow Dunmer. ❝It's on the house. Holler if you need anything.❞ Azarath nodded at the Mer, wrapping his cold fingers around the cup. The bartender left to serve more drinks. Azarath wasn't used to such —

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—hospitality. The Dunmer cleared his throat and sipped his drink. Azarath actually felt. . . At home? Though. . . Azarath wasn't here for that. No. . . He was here for a Trip to Solstheim. A Haven for Dark Elves, so Azarath has heard. For now. . . Azarath will enjoy himself. —

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Starter For: Sjárek Alerðsson Azarath had been walking away from the City Whiterun and towards East to the city of Riften. The Mer shivers once the cold wind hits his body, Azarath crossing his arms to stick his hands underneath his armpits to warm them. After what it seems—

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— to be twenty minutes, Azarath happened upon a old Nordic ruin. Azarath was about to walk up to investigate but saw figures walking the bridge above the river. Azarath squinted his red eyes, seeing these people equipped with Iron, studded and sorts of unorganized gear. —

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—Azarath kneeled down. If the Dunmer continue to walk down the path, he'll be stopped by a bandit. To either pay a toll or to take his loot by force. Azarath placed his hands on his chin, staying out of sight from behind a rock so the Archers cannot see him. Azarath could—

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— fight them but that would mean his death. Going through the river wasn't a choice since it was a waterfall at the end. Sneaking by would be very difficult due to the guards watching every inch of the place. Azarath waited until a opportunity came along.