BlueOakRogue

'Wait, are you writing a diary? Really? At a time like this?' Ondolemar gave a violent start and, snapping shut the small journal which concealed beneath its dark, quality-leather cover the musings of a superiorly bred mer haunted by most unsettling feelings, shot a hurried but still effective lightning bolt at Barbas, who yelped with pain and indignation and crawled into the shadows beneath the carriage seat facing the Thalmor's. The carriage driver turned his head, ever so slightly - after all, it's not too often that you see a bad-tempered elf, who might or might not be a Thalmor agent wearing civilian clothing, argue with a talking dog