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OOC: sorry i forgot to post this yesterday
Sel looked around the drab tavern in the great city Cyrodiil, noting the many broken chairs and tables, not to mention the rank smell of giant imperials who had not bathed in months. He motioned to the bartender.
"Flin, please." he said.
Sel sat down at the bar, the aged stool creaking as he did so.
The bartender handed him the drink. "Not many dark elves living in Cyrodiil. What's your story?"
"A long one." Sel answered, hinting to the barkeep that he didn't want to talk about it.
"Enjoy your drink." the bartender said before turning to talk to another customer.
Sel finished his drink and walked out of the tavern to get some fresh air. He sensed a movement above him and looked up into the night sky, but saw nothing. A moment later, he felt a blow to the back of his head and fell unconscious.
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"Its when murder is justice that martyrs are made"
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