The Elder Scrolls I : Rise of the Sword-Runners

Arngeirr was crouching close to the timberland floor as he skulked along the trail, stalking his fair game. His hands were unsporting, mud and moss clung to his Banded Iron armour, his yearn gilded blonde hairsbreadth hung over his nerve, damp with sweat.

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

A Stormcloak patrol passed beneath him.

'' red cent you '' he cursed as they moved on and in he distance he saw the bombastic cervid he had been stalking prancing away towards the lake.

He slid down the tree after sheathing his artillery and walked towards Riverwood. As the daybreak lead blew through the tree Arngeirr ran his hand through his golden hair and approached Lake Llinalta. As he broke through the Tree line of business he breathed deeply inhaling the brisk air, it was so dissimilar here than it was in the cities, here you could find peace.

As he looked around himself Arngeirr sat down and, bringing his nozzle close to the ground he began to sniff and mind for any wildlife that he might hunt.

He soon caught the scent of a fox and followed it in the direction of Llinatas Deep, 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 mind getting unsporting, sweaty or bloody.

He swam quickly across to the northern depository financial institution to avoid the carnage Fish. Unlike others in Skyrim, the Pisces the Fishes would experience been their live on worry, as for some cause everyone thought that the lake was cursed, no one in the Sword-Runner family believed in jinx, and they were ALL stubbornly brave beyond reckoning.

Arngeirr advanced slowly and quietly for two reasonableness, he did n't desire to lose his prey, and just to his left on top of the sunken tug of Llinatas Deep were two bandit marauder wielding Orcish Battleaxes. Also just behind them was an Apprentice thaumaturgist.

As he passed silently by he was blasted forward into the Tree-line by a vast ball of pure white light, dazed and confused Arngeirr could see the Necromancer shouting and barking orders as three Bandit Sagittarius the Archer came up and shot arrow at the sphere as the Necromancer shot fireballs at it and the two bandit earlier charged at it wielding their Axes in a unreasoning wrath.

As Arngeirr pulled himself from his stupefaction and fog he drew his Sky-forge blade great-sword from his backbone and charged at the bandits as the orbit began to shrink inside taking the release form of a man.

Arngeirr charged as the first bandit, a fellow Nord, turned and charged at Arngeirr clad in hide armour. He swung his axe at Arngeirr 's head, Arngeirr ducked, stabbed up into the Nords chest, then birl around drawing the blade from his chest cutting him nearly in two.

Arngeirr stood up straight, his face stained with line, holding his bloodied great-sword in his right hand, his thorax panting as he huffed and puffed, watching as the Orc bandit clad in fur armor charged him in rage.

Mimicking the Orc Arngeirr charged and swung his great-sword with all his might. Battle-axe and Great-sword clashed in a electric discharge of Orichulum on Steel.

They pressed each other with all their metier, staring into the orcs brutish face as it roared in ire and continued to press its blade downwards towards Arngeirrs head. His strong suit was failing, the orc was winning with its immense innate physical strength, but Arngeirr was exhilarated by it he loved fighting orcs as they were one of the few races who posed a real scourge to him and a real challenge.

As the axe drew nigher to his head Arngeirr slipped into an unbind rage. He roared out like a cage lion, the Nordic battle cry. He pushed up with all his might and sent the orc reeling back onto its keister, its vitality now spent as Arngeirr swung his blade down onto its chest, delivering the killing blow, cleaving a breach hollow in the orcs chest.

Arngeirr spun to see a woodelf crouched on a piece of crumbling rock'n'roll that once was a swagger holding up the tower, weilding an sable bow ready to fire her arrow at Arngeirr as a banded 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 armed combat Arngeirr advanced on the Red-guard and swing his blade in a wide arc in front of himself. The Red-guard jumped back at the commencement 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 knees as an pointer sank into his shoulder. The Khajiit stabbed him in his right should also, completely crippling him as Arngeirr felt his life ebbing from him.

Then he felt a swoosh of air as a green blur flew by him at the Red-guard was thrown back into the towboat crumbling paries, an Orcish battle-axe embedded deep in his chest. Arngeirr watched as the woodelf lowered her bow and stared full eyed at what she saw, concern engulfing her. Arngeirr simply looked forward at her the whole time as the Necromancer ran forward and tried to raise the army corps to fight but, the khajiit was sent flying through the air crashing into him, its leg broken. Arngeirr felt a warm hand on his arm pulling him up as the warmth spread through his consistence, a console gentle luminance engulfing his wounds, healing them.

Then a marvelous man, of 6ft 5in, dressed in coal black armour, wielding two ebony brand and a great sword, with tenacious swept back golden hair and a muscular frame walked by towards the necromancer and Khajiit. He drove his brand into the neck of his opposition then turned to the woodelf.

'' Do you submit ? '' The man asked in a deeply, yet easygoing and comforting vocalisation to which the elf just nodded repeatedly

She was short, 5ft 3in in height with longsighted black hair tied back in a pony-tail. Her peel was tanned and her wyes were a deeply sparkling unripe, she was slim of flesh, clearly conciliatory and agile.

'' Then go inside, gather all that your bandit admirer steal and bring it out here '' The man ordered as the elf disappeared into the sunken support

The man walked over to Arngeirr and helped him up

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

'' What is your name ? ``

'' Arngeirr, and yours ? ''

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