Recon234

The Wicked and the Divine A dark and windy night gripped the city of Markarth as it slept. The sombre flickering of torches the only light in the streets, providing the few guards with meagre vision on their sleepy patrols of the grand, stone metropolis. A figure watched them from on high, perched atop a rocky outcrop above the waterfall, the great stream of water pounding along its course below. Heavy drops of rain pattered down on the figure’s hood, heralding the start of a storm. As the first lash of lightning whipped down from the heavens, the figure looked to the sky, and grinned. Fjori sighed as the rain beat down on her weary

The Wicked and the Divine A dark and windy night gripped the city of Markarth as it slept. The sombre flickering of torches the only light in the streets, providing the few guards with meagre vision on their sleepy patrols of the grand, stone metropolis. A figure watched them from on high, perched atop a rocky outcrop above the waterfall, the great stream of water pounding along its course below. Heavy drops of rain pattered down on the figure’s hood, heralding the start of a storm. As the first lash of lightning whipped down from the heavens, the figure looked to the sky, and grinned. Fjori sighed as the rain beat down on her weary

On Wings They Fly Thomas was altogether fed up with the mud and the rain and the birds eating his damned crops. It was the same every year: he’d toil away in the fields, working his everything to the bone. Only to have those blasted vermin swoop in and feast upon his efforts. Scarecrows didn’t work, shouting at them might make them flutter about a bit, and he even resorted to lobbing his pitchfork at them once. The blighted birds had merely glided over to another part of the field, resuming their dinner. They were mocking him, Thomas was certain of it. He was also sure that it was the same ones who came back year after year, hav