The senior Scrolls I : emanation of the Sword-Runners

Arngeirr was crouching close to the forest story as he skulked along the trail, stalking his fair game. His hands were dirty, mud and moss clung to his Banded branding iron Armour, his long halcyon blonde hair's-breadth hung over his face, damp with sweat.

He sniffed the air and swivelled around on his feet to face up north. He had her sent. Quickly but lightly, he sprinted through the forrest towards Riverwood, making slight interference he jumped from a fallen log and climbed a marvellous oak tree until, halfway up, he rested against a branch. Slowly he drew his begetter ancient Nordic Bow and readied his brand arrow to strike.

A Stormcloak patrol passed beneath him.

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

He slid down the tree after sheathing his artillery and walked towards Riverwood. As the break of the day steer blew through the trees Arngeirr ran his hired man through his golden fuzz and approached Lake Llinalta. As he broke through the Tree line of descent he breathed deeply inhaling the fresh 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 olfactory organ close to the background he began to sniffle and listen for any wildlife that he might hound.

He soon caught the scent of a fox and followed it in the counsel 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 bank to avoid the Slaughter Fish. 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 category believed in curses, and they were ALL stubbornly brave beyond reckoning.

Arngeirr advanced slowly and quietly for two reasons, he did n't need to lose his prey, and just to his left on top of the sunken pillar of Llinatas Deep were two bandit Marauders wielding Orcish Battleaxes. Also just behind them was an apprentice sorcerer.

As he passed silently by he was blasted forward into the Tree-line by a huge bollock of pure white luminance, dazed and confused Arngeirr could see the Necromancer shouting and barking orders as three brigand Sagittarius came up and crack arrows at the sphere as the Necromancer snap fireball at it and the two brigand earlier charged at it wielding their Axes in a unreasoning wrath.

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

Arngeirr charged as the first bandit, a chap Nord, turned and charged at Arngeirr clad in fell 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 look stained with blood, holding his bloodied great-sword in his good hand, his dresser 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 face as it roared in anger and continued to press its brand downwards towards Arngeirrs head. His strength was failing, the orc was winning with its huge innate physical strong suit, but Arngeirr was exhilarated by it he loved fighting orcs as they were one of the few races who posed a real threat to him and a real challenge.

As the axe drew nearer to his chief Arngeirr slipped into an unbound rage. He roared out like a cage in lion, the nordic battle cry. He pushed up with all his might and sent the orc reeling back onto its derriere, its energy now spent as Arngeirr swung his blade down onto its thorax, delivering the killing shock, cleaving a gaping hole in the orcs chest.

Arngeirr spun to see a woodelf crouched on a piece of crumbling rock that once was a swagger holding up the column, weilding an ebony bow prepare to fire her arrow at Arngeirr as a banded iron clad red-guard wielding two-fold scimitars advanced on Arngeirr and a Leather clad Khajiit bravo flanked him on his right wing as he faced the tower.

Reading himself for armed combat Arngeirr advanced on the Red-guard and swing out his blade in a wide of the mark arc in front line of himself. The Red-guard jumped back at the starting 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 pointer sank into his articulatio humeri. The Khajiit stabbed him in his right should also, completely crippling him as Arngeirr felt his spirit 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 wall, an Orcish battle-axe embedded deep 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 time as the necromancer ran forward and tried to raise the corpses to struggle 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 spread through his body, a comforting conciliate luminance engulfing his injury, healing them.

Then a tall man, of 6ft 5in, dressed in ebony armour, wielding two ebony sword and a great sword, with long swept back prosperous hairsbreadth and a muscular build walked by towards the thaumaturgist and Khajiit. He drove his steel into the necks of his opposer then turned to the woodelf.

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

She was unawares, 5ft 3in in height with foresightful Negroid hair tied back in a pony-tail. Her tegument was tanned and her y were a mysterious scintillation green, she was slight of figure, clearly flexible and agile.

'' Then go inside, gather all that your bandit booster 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 reply

'' What is your name ? ``

'' Arngeirr, and yours ? ''

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