The Elder Scrolls I : hike of the Sword-Runners

Arngeirr was crouching close to the woods floor as he skulked along the trail, stalking his target. His paw were dirty, mud and moss clung to his Banded iron Armour, his long golden blond hair hung over his expression, dampness with perspiration.

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

A Stormcloak patrol passed beneath him.

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

He slid down the tree after sheathing his weapon and walked towards Riverwood. As the morning wind blew through the tree Arngeirr ran his script through his golden fuzz and approached Lake Llinalta. As he broke through the Tree assembly line he breathed deeply inhaling the fresh air, it was so different here than it was in the city, here you could get hold peace.

As he looked around himself Arngeirr sat down and, bringing his nose close to the ground he began to sniff and take heed 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 savings 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 dirty, sweaty or bloody.

He swam quickly across to the Northern coin bank to ward off the slaughter Fish. Unlike others in Skyrim, the Pisces the Fishes would have been their last concern, as for some reason everyone thought that the lake was cursed, no one in the Sword-Runner kinfolk believed in curse word, and they were ALL stubbornly brave beyond reckoning.

Arngeirr advanced slowly and quietly for two understanding, he did n't want to lose his prey, and just to his left on top of the settle tower of Llinatas trench were two bandit piranha wielding Orcish Battleaxes. Also just behind them was an apprentice wizard.

As he passed silently by he was blasted forward into the Tree-line by a huge ball of pure Stanford White light, dazed and confused Arngeirr could see the Necromancer cheering and barking orders as three Bandit archer came up and shot pointer at the orbit as the Necromancer dead reckoning fireballs at it and the two brigand earlier charged at it wielding their Axes in a blind wrath.

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

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

Arngeirr stood up straight, his expression stained with blood, holding his bloodied great-sword in his right hand, his chest of drawers heaving as he huffed and puffed, watching as the Orc brigand clad in fur armour 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 discharge of Orichulum on Steel.

They pressed each other with all their strength, staring into the orcs brutish typeface as it roared in ire and continued to compact its blade downwards towards Arngeirrs header. His intensity level was failing, the orc was winning with its Brobdingnagian lifelike forcible strong suit, but Arngeirr was exhilarated by it he loved fighting orcs as they were one of the few airstream who posed a really terror to him and a rattling challenge.

As the axe drew nearer to his brain Arngeirr slipped into an unbind rage. He roared out like a caged Leo, the North Germanic engagement cry. He pushed up with all his might and sent the orc reeling back onto its arse, its energy now spent as Arngeirr swung his blade down onto its pectus, delivering the killing puff, cleaving a gaping hole in the orcs chest.

Arngeirr spun to see a woodelf crouched on a slice of crumbling rock that once was a prance holding up the pillar, weilding an ebony bow quick to give the axe her pointer at Arngeirr as a banded branding iron habilitate 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 dangle his sword in a wide arc in strawman of himself. The Red-guard jumped back at the first swipe then as the second 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 as an Arrow sank into his shoulder. The Khajiit stabbed him in his right hand 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 pillar crumbling paries, an Orcish battle-axe embedded trench in his chest. Arngeirr watched as the woodelf lowered her bow and stared wide eyed at what she saw, fear engulfing her. Arngeirr simply looked forward at her the entirely time as the magician ran forward and tried to raise the army corps 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 warmth facing pages through his torso, a cheering gentle luminousness engulfing his wounding, healing them.

Then a grandiloquent man, of 6ft 5in, dressed in coal black armor, wielding two Diospyros ebenum swords and a large blade, with long swept back golden hairsbreadth and a muscular build walked by towards the sorcerer and Khajiit. He drove his blade into the necks of his opponents then turned to the woodelf.

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

She was short, 5ft 3in in stature with farsighted black haircloth tied back in a pony-tail. Her skin was tanned and her wyes were a deeply sparkling green, she was rebuff of figure, clearly flexible and agile.

'' Then go inside, gather all that your brigand ally stole and bring it out here '' The man ordered as the elf disappeared into the sunken 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 public figure ? ``

'' Arngeirr, and yours ? ''

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