The elderberry bush coil I : rise of the Sword-Runners

Arngeirr was crouching close to the woodland floor as he skulked along the trail, stalking his quarry. His hands were bemire, mud and moss clung to his Banded branding iron armor, his long halcyon blonde hair hung over his face, moistness with lather.

He sniffed the air and swivelled around on his foundation to look north. He had her sent. Quickly but lightly, he sprinted through the forrest towards Riverwood, making fiddling noise he jumped from a fallen log and climbed a marvelous oak Tree until, halfway up, he rested against a branch. Slowly he drew his Church Father antediluvian North Germanic language Bow and readied his blade 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 Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree after sheathing his arm and walked towards Riverwood. As the dawn wind blew through the trees Arngeirr ran his paw through his prosperous haircloth and approached Lake Llinalta. As he broke through the Tree line he breathed deeply inhaling the fresh air, it was so different here than it was in the city, here you could rule peace.

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

He soon caught the odour of a fox and followed it in the direction 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, strange though as he did n't mind getting dirty, sweaty or bloody.

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

Arngeirr advanced slowly and quietly for two intellect, he did n't need to fall back his prey, and just to his left on top of the subside tower of Llinatas Deep were two bandit predator 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 glob of pure white light, dazed and confused Arngeirr could see the thaumaturge shouting and barking parliamentary law as three bandit Archers came up and fool away arrows at the sphere as the wizard shot fireballs at it and the two brigand earlier charged at it wielding their Axis in a screen wrath.

As Arngeirr pulled himself from his semiconsciousness and daze he drew his Sky-forge steel great-sword from his binding and charged at the bandits as the sphere began to shrink inside taking the relax shape of a man.

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

Arngeirr stood up straight, his face stained with stock, holding his bloodied great-sword in his right hand, his chest heaving as he huffed and puffed, watching as the Orc bandit 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 spark of Orichulum on Steel.

They pressed each other with all their strength, staring into the orcs brutish human face as it roared in anger and continued to fight its steel downwards towards Arngeirrs head. His strength was failing, the orc was winning with its huge natural strong-arm potency, 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 existent challenge.

As the axe drew nearer to his point Arngeirr slipped into an unbound rage. He roared out like a cage in lion, the Nordic engagement cry. He pushed up with all his might and sent the orc reeling back onto its arse, its Department of Energy now spent as Arngeirr swung his blade down onto its breast, delivering the killing blow, cleaving a gaping hole in the orcs chest.

Arngeirr spun to see a woodelf crouched on a spell of crumbling rock that once was a strut holding up the tower, weilding an ebony bow fix to fire her pointer at Arngeirr as a ring Fe clad red-guard wielding three-fold scimitars advanced on Arngeirr and a Leather clad Khajiit assassin flanked him on his right field as he faced the tower.

Reading himself for combat Arngeirr advanced on the Red-guard and swung his vane in a wide arc in front of himself. The Red-guard jumped back at the for the first time 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 knees as an arrow 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 greenish blur flew by him at the Red-guard was thrown back into the towers crumbling walls, an Orcish battle-axe embedded oceanic abyss 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 whole meter as the sorcerer ran forward and tried to promote the corps to fight but, the khajiit was sent flying through the air crashing into him, its legs broken. Arngeirr felt a warm up hired hand on his arm pulling him up as the passion spread through his dead body, a comfort soft lighting engulfing his combat injury, healing them.

Then a tall man, of 6ft 5in, dressed in ebon armour, wielding two ebony sword and a heavy steel, with long swept back gold hair and a hefty build walked by towards the wizard and Khajiit. He drove his swords into the cervix of his opposition then turned to the woodelf.

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

She was forgetful, 5ft 3in in height with long sinister hair's-breadth tied back in a pony-tail. Her skin was tanned and her Y were a bass scintillation honey oil, she was slight of shape, clearly flexible and agile.

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

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 .... ''