The elderberry bush Scrolls I : Rise of the Sword-Runners

Arngeirr was crouching close to the forest trading floor as he skulked along the trail, stalking his fair game. His helping hand were dirty, mud and moss clung to his Banded Fe Armour, his hanker gilt blonde haircloth hung over his face, damp with sweat.

He sniffed the air and swivelled around on his ft to face north. He had her sent. Quickly but lightly, he sprinted through the forrest towards Riverwood, making piffling noise he jumped from a fallen log and climbed a tall oak tree until, halfway up, he rested against a branch. Slowly he drew his Church Father antediluvian Nordic Bow and readied his steel arrow to strike.

A Stormcloak patrol passed beneath him.

'' damn you '' he cursed as they moved on and in he distance he saw the large deer he had been stalking prancing away towards the lake.

He slid down the tree after sheathing his arm and walked towards Riverwood. As the forenoon wind blew through the tree diagram Arngeirr ran his hand through his favorable hair and approached Lake Llinalta. As he broke through the Tree phone line he breathed deeply inhaling the unfermented air, it was so different here than it was in the cities, here you could find peace.

As he looked around himself Arngeirr sat down and, bringing his nose close to the dry land he began to sniffle and heed for any wildlife that he might hunt.

He soon caught the olfactory property of a fox and followed it in the centering of Llinatas trench, as he approach the bank he sighed, he hated swimming, he was n't bad at swimming per say, just disliked getting wet, unusual though as he did n't take care getting dirty, sweaty or bloody.

He swam quickly across to the northern cant to avoid the Slaughter Pisces. Unlike others in Skyrim, the Pisces the Fishes would bear been their last concern, as for some reason everyone thought that the lake was cursed, no one in the Sword-Runner home believed in curses, and they were ALL stubbornly brave beyond reckoning.

Arngeirr advanced slowly and quietly for two ground, he did n't desire to lose his quarry, and just to his left on top of the bury pillar of Llinatas Deep were two bandit marauder wielding Orcish Battleaxes. Also just behind them was an Apprentice Necromancer.

As he passed silently by he was blasted forward into the Tree-line by a huge ball of pure white light, dazed and confused Arngeirr could see the Necromancer shouting and barking rescript as three bandit bowman came up and jibe pointer at the area as the thaumaturgist crack fireballs at it and the two bandits earlier charged at it wielding their Axes in a screen wrath.

As Arngeirr pulled himself from his stupor and daze he drew his Sky-forge Steel great-sword from his backrest and charged at the bandit as the celestial sphere began to shrink inside taking the unleash form of a man.

Arngeirr charged as the commencement bandit, a fellow Nord, turned and charged at Arngeirr clad in hide armor. He swung his axe at Arngeirr 's promontory, Arngeirr ducked, stabbed up into the Nords chest, then twirl around drawing the brand from his thorax cutting him nearly in two.

Arngeirr stood up straight, his face stained with roue, holding his bloodied great-sword in his right wing bridge player, his chest panting as he huffed and puffed, watching as the Orc bandit clad in fur armor charged him in fury.

Mimicking the Orc Arngeirr charged and swung his great-sword with all his might. battle-ax and Great-sword clashed in a spark of Orichulum on Steel.

They pressed each other with all their strength, staring into the orcs brutish nerve as it roared in anger and continued to press its blade downwards towards Arngeirrs head. His strength was failing, the orc was winning with its immense natural strong-arm strength, but Arngeirr was exhilarated by it he loved fighting orcs as they were one of the few backwash who posed a real scourge to him and a actual challenge.

As the axe drew close to his head Arngeirr slipped into an unbound rage. He roared out like a cage in lion, the North Germanic language engagement cry. He pushed up with all his might and sent the orc reeling back onto its arsehole, its energy now spent as Arngeirr swung his blade down onto its chest, delivering the killing reversal, cleaving a gape hollow in the orcs chest.

Arngeirr spun to see a woodelf crouched on a small-arm of crumbling rock that once was a swagger holding up the tower, weilding an soot black bow ready to kindle her pointer at Arngeirr as a band iron clad red-guard wielding dual scimitars advanced on Arngeirr and a Leather clad Khajiit assassin flanked him on his right as he faced the tower.

Reading himself for combat Arngeirr advanced on the Red-guard and swung his sword in a wide arc in front of himself. The Red-guard jumped back at the kickoff swipe then as the arcsecond came he deflected with his scimitar sending Arngeirrs blade away from him and into the air. The Red-guard slashed at Arngeirrs thigh bringing him to his knee joint as an arrow sank into his shoulder. The Khajiit stabbed him in his rightfield should also, completely crippling him as Arngeirr felt his life ebbing from him.

Then he felt a swoosh of air as a greenish blur flew by him at the Red-guard was thrown back into the tugboat crumbling rampart, an Orcish battle-ax embedded trench in his thorax. Arngeirr watched as the woodelf lowered her bow and stared wide eyed at what she saw, venerate engulfing her. Arngeirr simply looked forward at her the whole clock time as the thaumaturgist ran forward and tried to raise the corpses to fight but, the khajiit was sent flying through the air crashing into him, its legs broken. Arngeirr felt a warm hand on his arm pulling him up as the warmness spread through his soundbox, a soothe gentle Light Within engulfing his lesion, healing them.

Then a tall man, of 6ft 5in, dressed in ebon armor, wielding two jet black swords and a bully brand, with prospicient swept back golden hair and a muscular anatomy walked by towards the necromancer and Khajiit. He drove his swords into the cervix of his adversary then turned to the woodelf.

'' Do you submit ? '' The man asked in a cryptical, yet soft and comforting vocalism to which the elf just nodded repeatedly

She was shortly, 5ft 3in in summit with farseeing ignominious hair tied back in a pony-tail. Her skin was tanned and her y were a deep sparkling green, she was slight of build, clearly flexile and agile.

'' Then go inside, gather all that your bandit friends slip and bring it out here '' The man ordered as the elf disappeared into the sink keep

The man walked over to Arngeirr and helped him up

'' Are you alright ? '' The man asked, to which the man nodded in answer

'' What is your epithet ? ``

'' Arngeirr, and yours ? ''

'' ... Raiden .... ''