Rafen
Well-Known Member
Djorn ignored the mild taunt of the wood elf ranger at his side. The mer clearly had something against humans, but Djorn had met more than a few humans with something against humans. But that was only part of the reason for his silence. The pass was coming to an end and once they were through they'd be in Skyrim. His home, and the place he had been exiled from so long ago. Falkreath hold was not too far from Riverwood, and the odds were not too low that he'd be recognized. If any of his family still survived. Skyrim had been dangerous when he'd left, and he very much doubted that the place had become any safer in the years since he had left.
He had little doubt he would be recognized. Whether the price on his head was still in place was somewhat of a mystery. Both the imperials and his own kinsmen would be glad to see his head parted from its shoulders. Even those who didn't know him personally or the reason for his bounty would likely turn him in. Times were hard in Skyrim, and the reward for turning him in would far surpass any moral qualms they might have. The steady snowfall was starting to change into a wetter, heavier quality and mixed with ice shards. The scent of imminent precipitation and the pines of Falkreath reached him. They were definitely approaching the rainy, forested hold.
He first set foot on the ground of Skyrim several minutes later. The snow had thinned even more, and was starting to veer towards ice rain. He started to shrug into his cloak when he heard the first howl. The nord ranger froze, holding a hand out and gesturing the elf to stop as well. Another howl rang out, closer this time. The wolves of Skyrim were savage things, and the war had driven them to attack targets of opportunity. Surely, he thought, they would not be so bold as to attack a company as large as ours. But the howls were nearing. Something was not right about them though. He strung his bow and fit an arrow to the string. "Those sound like no wolves I have ever encountered." He said to his fellow scout. "Be ready."
He had little doubt he would be recognized. Whether the price on his head was still in place was somewhat of a mystery. Both the imperials and his own kinsmen would be glad to see his head parted from its shoulders. Even those who didn't know him personally or the reason for his bounty would likely turn him in. Times were hard in Skyrim, and the reward for turning him in would far surpass any moral qualms they might have. The steady snowfall was starting to change into a wetter, heavier quality and mixed with ice shards. The scent of imminent precipitation and the pines of Falkreath reached him. They were definitely approaching the rainy, forested hold.
He first set foot on the ground of Skyrim several minutes later. The snow had thinned even more, and was starting to veer towards ice rain. He started to shrug into his cloak when he heard the first howl. The nord ranger froze, holding a hand out and gesturing the elf to stop as well. Another howl rang out, closer this time. The wolves of Skyrim were savage things, and the war had driven them to attack targets of opportunity. Surely, he thought, they would not be so bold as to attack a company as large as ours. But the howls were nearing. Something was not right about them though. He strung his bow and fit an arrow to the string. "Those sound like no wolves I have ever encountered." He said to his fellow scout. "Be ready."