06 November 2013 @ 09:55 am
[Over the last few weeks Brunwulf had become increasingly restless. He wanted a fight. A sparring session with someone at least. His Nord blood demanded that he fight with someone to hone his skills, which were going to waste in this place. Aye, he had Floor Thirty Two to hunt and things, but sparring with another man would be better. He narrowed his eyes into the screen, as he sent his message.]

I am in need of some fighting action within this tower of torture. Would anyone wish to spar with me? With either blade or fists, I do not mind. A fist fight would be welcomed, as I have not had one of those for many moons. If anyone wishes to take up the challenge, meet me on Floor Thirty Two. This is where I often go to hunt and practice my blade skills.

[He wondered if anyone would be man enough to challenge him. Or perhaps a strong woman might even challenge him. Who knew?]
[Losing Mami, who he viewed as an adopted daughter, last month had been hard, but Diarmuid had worked his way through his grief by focusing on the happy times they had spent together.  However, when three more people he is close to are sent home--two of which he cares for like his own children--those happy memories become a source of pain instead of a route passed the grief.

When he appears on the Network, Diarmuid looks more lost and empty than he has in a long time.

Usually, when I address everyone, I am asking for help on a project that will benefit the whole Tower.  Today, I am asking for help on a more personal level.

How does one handle losing a child?  Not just one, but several over a short period of time?  Nothing I try seems to work, and I am...

[His voice trails off here, shaking and uncertain.  A short time later, the feed ends.]

In our arms for a little while, in our hearts forever. )

06 September 2013 @ 05:06 pm
I have been within this Tower for over one month now. Tell me, what is a person to do within this prison? I feel myself going mad if I do not find an occupation or something to do, besides trying to find my way out. To those who have imprisoned me here, you would do well to listen, as you cannot keep a Nord warrior locked up here forever! [There is anger in his voice and his eyes fixed on the network screen.]

Also, the oatmeal I was forced to eat on arrival? It was disgusting. I would not feed such filth to my horse. We Nords need meat, not horse feed. You would do well to change the menu, as the choice is pathetic. [He wants to hunt, man.] If there was a choice, I would hunt for myself, yet I do not know where I can achieve such a feat.

Just a few questions from me and I will not give up trying to escape from here. Dragonborns are not prisoners.