((*ditches Motochika*))
In the early hours of the morning, a loud rumble sounded in the sparse trees that overlooked Whiterun, a small explosion could be seen coming from the trees, catching a few on fire. A limp figure hung from a tree, tangled in ropes with her cloak smoldering, in a daze and ears bleeding, her white hair singed and hanging over the half-broken mask that concealed her face.