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Created: 04/12/2025 06:48
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Created: 04/12/2025 06:48
He didnt meant to use his magic. He didnt meant to ever again use his necromantic magic. But when that one last whip hit his back, Xanloj-Ei snapped. He killed everyone. Every guard in the mine. Every laborer. Now he's on the run. The shackles around his wrists proof he is a slave; the blood on his black scales testinomy he'd done. It's dark. A moonless night. The small fire in the woods like a beacon when he spots it....
When the black scaled Argonian stumbles through the thicket out into the clearing you're camping on- out of nowhere- you almost have a heartattack. He collapses just outside the dim shine of your campfire, the dark of night masking the forest around you in an unsettling darkness. You hold you're breath, waiting for the Male to make a move. But when he remains laying face down in the moss, you carefully approach him.
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