Proffit by Any Means

[Seanu Reaves]

It was a cool Skyrim morning in the Reach. Birds were singing, deer frolicing, and the fog had lifted. Rangar Proffit looked out from his little camp on the river bank, a quaint position hidden across from the main road. Wargul Gro-Gruumash, Rangar thought as he inspected his map. The man's wanted poster poking out of Rangar's pack, and Rangar had to whistle. This man was quite a piece of work. Five assaults and three murders in Winterhold city, resisted arrest multiple times, Banditry in Winterhold hold, and didn't pay the bard for the song Wargul requested. Rangar moved down to the river to bath, tracing mentally where his leads were pointing to.

It appears he ran to the Orc Stronghold of Dushnikh Yal, Rangar concluded. He dunked his head into the chill snowmelt, he had to sweep his blonde braids back as he wiped his warpaint off. Rangar smiled, remembering his foster father, a benevolent Argonian named Hides-Many-Knives, ranting about the uselessness of the custom. Hides said why paint yourself when your target should never know that your there? Rangar had the highest respect for that man, his own father missing and his mother death Hides had forged Rangar into the man he was. Rangar combed his short beard and picked up his warpaint brush. Through the reflection in the water and muscle memory Rangar applied a perfect nordic swirl on his cheek.

Rangar finished his bath and started to pack up his small camp. It was only a tent, bedroll, and campfire. Rangar used his pack as a pillow, that was how spartan Rangar lived. Rangar started strapping on his armor. His armor was an achievement. For you see it was soft leather akin to the Theives Guild armor, but wrapped in steel and corundum alloy bands. It wieghed as much as scaled armor but was as tough as steel plate. Lastly was his helmet, this was not an achievement. It was a piece of plops, honestly. It was just an iron helmet that when he tripped after he bought it the horns fell out and Rangar was to poor to fix them at the time. But all and all in the end it got its job done.

Across the river bank, Rangar could see what he marked on his map as Blind Cliff Cave. It will take a few days, Rangar predicted as he traced his path. Rangar had to avoid the roads, lest a talkative traveller spook his quarry. Rangar checked to see that he dismantled his campsite right before he kicked the remnants of his fire into the river. Rangar's armor barely making a sound as he worked his way south down the shore. He crouched as he reached the outskirts of what was marked as Four Skull Lookout.

Rangar unshealthed his massive dagger, it was joke Rangar was compinsating and it was said that it was made from a dragon's tooth. The blade was nearly two-feet long and four inches at the widest point. It had a yellow-ish gleam, and it's hilt was rough leather with blackened steel crossguard. It may not be as sharp as other metal knives but with enough force it was said Rangar could cut through steel. Rangar smiled, for this knife was known around Skyrim as The Giant's Toothpick was the only real weapon he needed. Now that is not to say it was the only weapon Rangar carried, on his back was a crossbow with steel bolts, a bandolier of other daggers, and his own steel encased fists.

Rangar approached Four Skull Lookout still crouched, but Rangar decided to just stride up to the structure. Rangar was partial to ancient Nordic archetecture, and with the view it was beautiful to him. Though walking normally and in armor, Rangar's approach was still unnoticed by the two bandits that had taken shelter in the ruin. Rangar smiled and loudly clearing his throat.

"Oye, Who in Oblivion are you?" replied the quicker bandit.

"You wouldn't happen to have directions to Bruma would you?"

The sarcasm was lost on the bandits, but Rangar's constant advance and Giant's Toothpick exsposed blade wasn't. The bandits tried to get thier weapons ready. Rangar still had a large smile. This is going to be fun, Rangar thought.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

(Forgot to ask for comments advice or suggestions. Please let me know.)

Rangar cleaned Giant's Toothpick of the bandits blood, and laughed. The massive knife nearly cut one of the bandit's head off. Rangar turned to look at the bodies, and found them laying face down a few feet away. With a sigh Rangar went over and flipped the bodies. He checked thier faces against his memories on the bounty boards in the holds. Niether were worth more than a few septims. But turn away in disgust, no point in taking the time and effort to claim thier bounties. Rangar sat and still decided it was a win. Celebrating his victory with some cooked beef.

It should be known, unlike other bounty hunters in Skyrim, Rangar took his time. He planned exstensively and rarely engaged unless he knew he had limited the variables to a managable level. Orc strongholds have around twenty orcs at any given time, Rangar thought. Being a non-orc he would not get any real help, the orcs would be indifferent to his plight if not downright hostile to his mission. Rangar's thoughts soon shifted to his taget, Wargul Gro-Gruumash. Wargul himself was no sweetroll. Rangar remembered a fun little story from when he was gathering information on his target. Kicked out of the Companions for attempting to rape a client when she didnt offer herself as part of the payment. Rangar smiled, his second love in all of Tamriel was a challenging kill.

Rangar awoke early the next morning. The sun was cutting through the morning fog like a greatsword, revealing his path. South past Red Eagle Redoubt, Rangar thought. South to the main road then north to Reachcliff Cave, out the quote unquote Reachcliff Secret Entrance down to Dushnikh Yal. It was the best plan Rangar had, for rummors of the Forsworn worried even hard men like Rangar. Gathering his gear, Rangar started his trek again.

Rangar slid down the hill from Four Skull Lookout and by the banks of the river Rangar saw his landmark, Red Eagle Redoubt carved into a hill. In its odd peace and the morning light, Rangar marvelled at the beauty. Then a sound rang out that chilled Rangar to his bones. Ironically, it was the creaking of bones that caused this, bones rubbing together without any flesh. The sound could easily break his conncentration, and so Rangar tried to ignore the sound.

Giant's Toothpick scraped against it's sheath, as Rangar pulled it out. His body bent into a crouch, and the four skeletons were completely oblivious to his approach. The first skeleton crumpled with barely a sound as Giant's Toothpick was imbedded into it's skull. The thickness and sheer size of the blade caused the bone to fracture as if it was hit by a small mace. Even with the violence of the action the other three skeletons were standing arround idlely. Well that works, Rangar thought. His movements were silent as he crept closer. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

What in the name of Talos was that, Rangar panicked and froze. Then he realized what happened, he had accidently kicked the fallen skeleton's sword across the entrance of Red Eagle Redoubt. He soon recovered as the three remaining skeletons converged on his position. Rangar stood, his full frame just over six feet tall, he stood about a head taller than his adversaries. They stood at a distance, but then a skeleton knocked an arrow, Rangar dived behind a worn pillar.

The other two skeletons branished ancient weapons, an axe and greatsword respectively, and charged. An arrow whizzed by Rangar's face, and Rangar dived out from his cover. Drawing a steel dagger form his bandolier, Rangar threw with all his might. The dagger flew end over end, barely missing the two charging skeletons. The handle of the weapon impacted with the archer's skull. It's a unicorn, Rangar laughed, as the rest of the dagger's momentum snapped the archer's skull back. Rangar took a deep breath as a greatsword arced toward his off-balanced body.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Rangar hit the ground with the added force of the greatsword, his breath knocked out of him. The skeleton did not raise his sword to strike him again, it just pinned Rangar to the ground. The skeleton with the axe approached like the headsman. It's skull was just as impassive as the executioner's hood. Great what am I going to do? Rangar's mind was whirling to find the anwser. The greatsword unmoving laying across Rangar's chest pinning his biceps.

Rangar slowly worked his left arm free as the axe-wielding skeleton raised his weapon for the decapitating blow. Rangar slowed his breathing though the sword on his chest made this a labor. The timing had to be perfect, Rangar's icy blue eyes watching the skeleton's ace fall towards the gap in his armor at his partially exsposed neck. Rangar exsploded into action, he threw the skeleton with the greatsword off of him as he threw a left hook. Rangar was allowed a small smirk as his fist contacted the flat of the axe head. The ancient axe fell from the skeleton's hand as Rangar sweeped his leg out catching his foes legs. Rangar jumped to his feet looking for Giant's Toothpick.

Talos' mercy, Rangar thought as he spied his famous dagger laying a good ten feet away. Rangar pulled two steel daggers from his bandolier across his chest. Always survive, Rangar cited. Against all odds. This was Rangar's mantra, Hides helped codify it with Rangar's intense and some would say abusive training regime. Rangar got on his feet and entered his unique dual knife fighting stance. It was similar to a boxer's, but the knife in his left hand was held in a reverse grip. The blade jutting downwards from his clenched fist.

Rangar cursed these simple daggers, and missed the power Giant's Toothpick seemed to command. The steel blades only bounced off the bones of his foes. And so for a time rangar was chipping away, literally, form the skeleton's skulls. Talos this is tedious, Rangar cursed. And so Rangar decided his new course of action. Rangar threw his right knife at the disarmed skeleton's axe, knocking it farther away, as he squared off with the greatsword holding undead. The second knife spun end over end knocking the greatsword from ints grasp, or not accurately knocking a hand from its arm.

Rangar marked where the other skeleton was and found it was quite far away. Chasing it's axe towards the lake bed. Rangar rushed the skeleton that he had just disarmed. His armor fist shattering the jaw of the skeleton. It was staggard, and Rangar was not even close to done. His fists beating the undead's skull in. When at last he grabbed the skeleton's neck and headbutted its skull, ignoring the clawing bone hand of his foe. Iron shattered bone, and Rangar threw the limp bones away. He turned to find the axe-wielding skeleton running back with it's weapon in hand. I do not have time for this, Rangar was truly done with this fight. Pulling his custom crossbow off his back he aimed with two hands and shot at the skeleton. The bolt flew swiftly and it seemed to just be in the skeleton's skull. The force knocked the skeleton flat on its back. Rangar sighed and moved to claim his weapons scattered around the battlezone.

It was midday and Rangar was pissed. The fight with the skeletons had put him behind schedule, and so he ate on the move. For the most part it was just Rangar and beautiful countryside. The only real event was Rangar had sat down for a quick rest, only to learn he was in a bear's territory. Rangar has never ran so fast in his life. Rangar could breath easily once he reached the road. This adventure was becoming longer than Rangar planned. Good thing he didn't boast to Jarl Free-Winter that he would have Wargul Gro-Gruumash by the week's end.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Rangar was on the road, his pace quickened as he realized the sun was setting yet again. He had to set up camp and he found a nice small clearing hidden from the world, now it was not the best site but it would have to do. The howls of wolves cut through the night, but the campire would keep them at bay. Rangar was started to be lulled to sleep by the wolves' melody when he felt a pressence. That cool wind that pierced through his thick blankets. Rangar sat up from his bedroll and across the fire was a tall hooded figure. As the shade stepped forward the flames illuminated the face hidden in the hood. Rangar's eyes shot open as he realized that this wasn't a dream, and the robes were not regular mage robes.

The Thalmor stood there motionless. His, for it was a he Rangar realized, long black hair hanged out of the tight hood swaying slightly in the breeze. His dark green-eyes seemed void of any emotion assides from malice and loathing. On his hip sat a vicious looking daedric blade, Rangar could see the light emitting from an enchantment unknown to Rangar. On this man's face he bore three scars on the left side of his face. These marks, this Rangar noted marked this man as a warrior, somehow likely added to his presence. His voice was oddly calm and even, some would even say soft. A wolf with the voice of a sheep.

"Hello. Mind if I join you?"

Rangar simply stared at his unwanted visitor. His amulet of Talos felt heavy upon his chest. Those eyes, damn those unholy eyes, Rangar thought. Rangar almost could feel his soul cowering from the elf's gaze.

"Fine. But I am afraid you cannot share my bedroll." Rangar manuevered his crossbow to take down this visitor if this quaint conversation turned violent. His visitor smiled, as if he knew what Rangar was doing or the double entendre he was seeing.

"Oh, do not worry yourself. You are not my quarry nor I yours I would assume."

"What?" Rangar was agast. How can he know my work? Rangar was even more uncomfortable now.

"My job. It is my job to recognise who,what, and why. You are interesting to me... Rangar Proffit."

Rangar's blood turned to ice as the name uttered his name. Talos perserve me, Rangar prayed. This Thalmor agent knows me, how is this possible?

"Do not be scared. I just wanted to meet the famous bounty hunter. For we have similar jobs up to a point."

"What? Who are you?"

"Officially I am a justiciar, but I am quite inquisitive. Yes... I would say that is who I am."

"So you hunt..." Rangar shuddered at the implications.

"Talos lovers. General enemies who would shatter the piece of our nations. Fools who steal my sweetrolls. Enemies to my state and personal sanity."

Rangar could only just stare at the strange Thalmor Justiciar. Was that supposed to be a joke? Rangar thought.

"You know my name. Yet, you will not tell me yours. What am I supposed to call you?"

"Wonderful!" The Thalmor clapped his hands and was smiling widely. "So you want to keep meeting me and want proper forms of adress." Rangar cursed his luck, as the Thalmor laughed like a child.

"In my inquisitive interest that interupted... Gah! I am sorry friend my wit has waned. The Imperial victory has given me and my ilk a lot of busy work. Can't spend time doing the things I want, but I digress."

"What does that mean?"

"I am called The Inquisitor. For you see I am inquisitive... And I always find my anwsers. Also the 'The' is part of the name never call me Inquisitor. Because that sounds stupid."

Rangar's blood froze as The Inquisitor broke into sinister laughter. As soon as it appeared the laughter died, and The Inquisitor's face was deadly serious.

"Now then. I have some questions for you... Mister Proffit..."

 

[Madrar]

Well, I have to admit, this is an excellent story! Keep up the good work, and the only suggestions I can make is check your spelling before posting. other than that, it's all good.


(Thalmor FTW!)

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Rangar woke up to a slow, groggy mind. The sun was high on the horizon announcing the midday. He attempted to snap himself into awareness, but soon collapsed back down into a slumped position as he realized that his unwanted visitor from the night before was no where to be found. Rangar laid back and breathed easier as the sun beat down on his face. Talos guide me, Rangar thought. The Inquisitor the name burned itself into Rangar's mind. All I can read from his actions and visage is that he is not a normal Thalmor. Rangar began collecting his camp, cursing his luck, when he found a note place precariously on his pack. As Rangar read the note he could hear that accursed Thalmor's soft yet sadistic voice.

To a Mister Rangar Proffit,

I would like to thank you for your fire and good company. It was refreshing to meet a true son of Skyrim. I found your answers quite the laugh and hope to have the chance to inquire even more in the foreseeable future. I can respect a man of your obvious professionalism and would hope to never see you on the wrong side. You might be curious to know that I did in fact wipe your memory, as it were. Though I find that your drunkard excuse for a race might have conditioned you to not have as many side effects of waking up without memories, but I digress.

Cannot wait to speak with you again,

The Inquisitor

P.S. The woman you fell in love with sounds ravishing.

This letter needless to say didn't help Rangar's mood, and it may have been for the best. The sheer volume and creativity that went into those curses would awed the common man. Rangar could ascend and become like Talos, for his cursing was truly a sight to behold. To calm himself Rangar even tried to shoot a nearby rabbit with his crossbow only for his bolt to be lost in the brush. Rangar soon filtered out all of his anger. Only human, Rangar thought. But I will survive. Rangar decided to no longer dwell on the strange Thalmor, after all he wasn't omnipotent right? Rangar began down the road after finding his campsite unidentifiable to the untrained eye. All he wanted to do at this point was to take this bounty in and take a long break. No Thalmor, no bears, and lots of mead and pretty women. Yeah, Rangar thought his mind on the tavern down the street from his home in Whiterun. Sounds like a good plan.

Rangar finally reached Reachcliff Cave as the sun was caressing the horizon. But as Rangar approached he felt a tug at the back of his mind. That was when the arrows struck. The two ebony arrows smashed into Rangar's troll skull pauldron on his right shoulder. The heavy arrows hit at an almost inhuman synchronization, the force almost taking Rangar from his feet. That is when two women appeared from the shadows around the entrance. I know these two, Rangar realized and he cursed yet again. The nord was Natalia, a wonderful example of a Nord: loud, could drink a lot, and as an added bonus large breasts even for a Nord, and her companion was simply called Dove, a mute Breton woman with white hair. What are they doing? Why have they broke the code?

Natalia put her bow away as Dove drew another arrow back, and strode forward. Rangar tried to stand but felt the arrow in his pauldron nick his shoulder. Great, Rangar thought as the poison started to take effect locking his muscles in place. Natalia looked stoic, but Rangar could see flickers of sadness. These cracks in her facade did little to relax Rangar. Natalia still had her sword sheathed though her left hand rested on the pommel. Rangar was face down as he heard Dove approach. He then heard Natalia speak, her voice though still rough like most Nords, was very attractive.

“That definitely looks like his armor. What do you think Dove? Was the man's gossip true?”

There was no reply as Rangar felt himself rolled over, and his helm removed.

“By the divines! It is Rangar.” Rangar couldn't move and Natalia brought his face up in a hug. His face smashed into her steel breastplate. This would be so much nicer if she was in her tavern clothes, Rangar thought. Dove was silent, but Rangar heard and felt Dove tugging at the arrows imbedded into Rangar's armor. Rangar could just imagine Dove rolling her eyes.

“Sorry about that.” As Natalia realized that she was hurting Rangar. “It was just we heard you were dead. That a real stinker of a bounty got you and was wearing your armor pretending to be you. Ain't that right Dove?”

The mute Breton girl, calling this sixteen year old a woman was a stretch, only nodded and put her boot against the troll skull. Gods, Rangar thought. Natalia may not be the sharpest blade even if she is the shiniest. Now it is not that Dove was unattractive, far from it. More she is like the little sister I never had. Is the most Rangar ever had to say on the subject, even in Dove's later years.

“When the Thalmor agent said you died...” Rangar's blood froze and he started trying to struggle. “I was like 'No way! By the Eight that is impossible' and then...”

Rangar's eyes were darting about, and Dove looked over and nodded. She tapped Natalia stopping her great retelling and flashed some hand signs.

“Yeah I am not sure about that Thalmor. He traveled alone, didn't leave a name, and asides from some pretty facial scars unremarkable."

 

[Seanu Reaves]

It took a few moments for Rangar to regain control of his faculties. Natalia finally realized what Dove was attempting to do and yanked an arrow out. Well there goes the intimidation factor, Rangar thought as Natalia ripped out the other arrow and the troll skull with it. Natalia was speaking of rumors and gossip that Rangar didn't see important, as Dove pushed the arrow through the skull.

“Natalia. Don't worry I am fine, but the talk of Thalmor worries me.”

Dove tilted her head to the side and raised a nearly invisible white eyebrow, seeming to ask: Why would the funny man worry you?

“He found my camp with seemingly no effort, used magic to interrogate me, and wiped my memory.”

“By the eight! Rangar that is horrible...” Natalia started giggling. “Did he later have his way with you?”

“No, but... Wait! What? Dam you woman! This is serious!”

Natalia was almost in tears from her laughter. Dove looked at her traveling partner with her smirk slightly hidden behind a cascade of white hair. Rangar growled the humor was obviously beyond his ability to enjoy. I need there help, Rangar thought. This Thalmor is going to be a problem. Rangar looked at Natalia and Dove, and wondered how he will get them to join his cause. Hunt down Wargul, because business first, then the hunt of this Thalmor.

“Sorry Rangar... It's just... HAHAHA! Okay okay, I'm good. So Rangar you on the hunt?”

“Thank you. Yes I am on the tail for some orc on the run from Windhelm. A real piece of work. What about you two?”

“We had a horse thief. Your young ward there, Dove is quite the archer, shot him through the thigh pinning him to the horse and killing the horse.”

“Aye, she learns well.”

“We just turned him in so we are free to help you.”

“What? What makes you think I need the help from you two?”

“You never make small talk like that. You don't care for anyone's business unless its your's as well. Rangar, we aren't thick and we are joining you.”

Asides from a small eyebrow raise from Dove at the statement 'We aren't stupid' hinting Dove took offense being put in the same group as Natalia, Rangar looked to see Dove nodding at him. She replaced both arrows to their original quivers. This could be good, Rangar thought.

“Fine, We get Wargul first, and then we go find the Thalmor.”

“Why? If I may be so bold.”

“I am going to kill him. Plain and simple. I don't like that man, snooping around my business. Needless to say no one will miss him either.”

“But still he travels alone in Skyrim of all places. He must be powerful.”

“Petty magic means nothing to me, but we will go after Wargul first. He is a big orc, with a big war hammer, and a thick armor.”

“Not the only things big and thick if I had to guess,” Natalia winked at Dove. Natalia laughed as the young woman grew red. Dove soon got over her flustered state and looked at Rangar the look in her eyes begging the question: And this is a problem how? Dove took her elven bow off her back and drew back a steel arrow. She shot at a wolf barely visible through the trees, and Rangar heard a shriek of pain and heard a thunk. The arrow had gone through the wolf and imbedded itself into a tree.

“I doubt it will be that easy girl. Fine lets get going we can stay on the road now that your traveling with me,” Rangar smiled soon business, official and personal would be wrapped up. Wargul will be looking for just me, Rangar schemed. Time to show the old boy a suprise that he won't forget.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

The trio walked down the road, Rangar in the lead towards the orc stronghold, they had been walking swiftly as they found the path off the main road. Natalia often making absent minded comments like “Look a cave wonder what is inside?” and “What an accursed fog.” Dove soon was out of breathe, but she trudged forward not wanting to be seen as the weakest link. Rangar stopped walking.

“We should take a break.”

“Why Rangar? Not like anyone is tired yet.”

Dove tried to look hard as if to say: What? I am fine. But the hard look faltered under Rangar's cold stare, and soon became a look of thanks. Natalia soon begrudgingly lazed upon the ground and started drinking from her stash of mead. By the hour Natalia had drank three bottles. And likely only having a slight buzz, Rangar mused. Night soon descended upon the companions.

“Crap. We stayed to long. Guess this as good a spot to camp as any.”

“Wonderful... More mead for everyone!”

Rangar soon had his palm resting upon his face, and when he finally looked up he noticed Dove staring asking for something to do. She is ever the active one, Rangar thought. And so Rangar sent Dove to gather firewood. Rangar soon laid down as well, and Natalia in her newly found stupor snuggled up.

“I am happy your safe Rangar.”

Rangar tried to think of something clever and dripping with roguish charm, but all he could get out was “Needless to say I am, too.”

But Natalia was already fast asleep. Rangar sighed, his mind distant, and he absently grabbed the mead. He toasted to Dove when the girl returned to the camp, she had tried to get more wood than she comfortably could. She tries to hard, Rangar though, as he drifted to sleep Dove poking the fire with a stick.

Rangar awoke from a dreamless void, to the image of the sun fighting through the fog. He groaned as he stood up and realized Natalia was talking about how awful mudcrabs are. Damn that woman, Rangar thought. Is she immune to hangovers? Rangar was no slouch at drinking, but Natalia would drink him under the table and still be perfectly fine the next day. Rangar approached Natalia as she finished cooking her slaughter fish, and Rangar realized Dove was nowhere to be found.

“Where is Dove?”

“She is cleaning up.”

“Wait... what?”

“She shot our breakfast, and to celebrate I gave her some mead... And I guess one to many,” Natalia laughed for she was ever the Nord, being unable to drink was like being unable to brawl. Completely inexcusable. Rangar began to walk towards the bluff before the lake. He could barely see Red Eagle Redoubt across the misty water, and soon could see Dove's gear almost expertly hidden along the shore. Natalia soon took her place at Rangar's side, and oddly enough her tones were hushed and grave.

“Rangar... Have you ever wondered?”

“Wondered what?”

“If this isn't the life for her? That you forced...”

Rangar cut her off his words harsher than he had intended. “I forced nothing. She has taken to the life because it is her calling."

“Then tell me this,” Natalia suddenly put off by Rangar's tone. “Who is she? I have traveled with her since you asked me to take over her care, yet I know nothing of this girl.”

Rangar turned away as he saw the pale form of dove returning to her gear. He began to take down his tent and chose his words carefully.

“She was an orphan at that orphanage. Honorhall I believe. She had taken to being a thief and she was dam good for a six year old. She had actually managed to take my coin purse and escape into the Ratways. I tracked her down and heard... no read her story. Clever girl, I adopted her and the rest was history.”

“Will she become an assassin as well?”

“What does that mean?”

“Everyone knows of your ties to Hides-Many-Knives, and his ties to the Dark Brotherhood. That man is a snake...”

Rangar grew enraged. “THAT MAN IS MY FATHER! AND A GOOD MAN!”

Dove snapped her head as she heard the yell. What is happening, She wondered oblivious to the fact the argument was related to her. Maybe if I get some more food, yeah everyone would be happy.

Natalia turned to see Dove covered in blood and the skinned corpse of a deer on Dove's back. Where Rangar congratulated, Natalia had a bad feeling about the scene in front of here. Natalia looked into Dove's eyes and found no warmth, no caring, and no mercy. How come I didn't notice that before, Natalia wondered. She used her knives... She decided to use her knives to kill that deer... Why? For fun? The challenge?

 

[Seanu Reaves]

It was quiet, not that Dove minded. Her life was one of silence, but the feeling of banishment started to bother her. Natalia had been silent since Dove brought the deer. Natalia seemed troubled and would not share the burden with Rangar and Dove. In fact now that Dove thought about it Rangar and Natalia seem to be feuding, but it never occurred to our dear Dove that she might be the root of the problem. Dove would approach Natalia often asking questions be it hand signs or writing in the dirt when they rested. Natalia was polite but her answers left little room for discussion.

She's staring at me again, Natalia thought. Dove kept trying to 'chat' with her for most of the trek. Natalia just could not shake that immovable Nord honor, and the idea that this girl was being groomed for the Dark Brotherhood. Natalia could recognize that assassins shared many talents as any good bounty hunter, but to lower yourself to petty murder for hire. Natalia looked at the horizon as they took a path off the main road towards the orc stronghold. What will she do once she has to make that choice? Natalia pondered. Natalia reached a conclusion that worried her about Dove. Her gaze fell upon Rangar, but then a shudder went through both Nords.

Both stopped walking, for they both could feel it. A little beat just after their own hearts. Drums. Drums beating steady as the fog became so tight you felt like you could choke on it. As it washed over the three each responded differently. Dove attempted to knock an arrow her eyes shifting quickly, as the girl tried to calm her breathing. Rangar drew Giant's Toothpick and muttered a prayer to Talos. Natalia drew her blade of Skyforge Steel, and pressed it to her lips. Natalia's heart soon beat in time with the drums, her blood rage building. She did not care that she might loose herself in the fight, she entered her stance as the first Forsworn came through the fog running down the hill.

An arrow, Natalia mused as the missile punched through the Forsworn's primitive armor. Natalia knew that the fog severely limited Dove's archery. Natalia could see quick blurs among the rocks was the only hint that the Forsworn were out there. Natalia grew tired of this game of hide and seek. The Nord woman charged up the slope, surprisingly agile given her steel armor. As she charged into the fog two Forsworn materialized from the haze. Their crude weapons still presented a threat, but Natalia had her shield. The blows fell upon her great shield to no avail and she impaled one of the Forsworn, this one a woman. Her superior armor deflecting the blows of the other Forsworn. Natalia's blade cleaved the Forsworn's arm off. The man's ax still clutched in the disembodied limb.

Natalia was a whirlwind. Even if the Forsworn she encountered could find a breach in her defense Natalia only grew fiercer. Her vision grew cloudy red. The anger and the blood lust, the only thing that mattered was the combat. Glorious and honorable, Rangar meant nothing and Dove did not worry her. She knew there would not be enough Forsworn in the camp to slate her lust, but Natalia haunted the fog.

Rangar stabbed the Forsworn through the jaw, and felt the bone blade enter the brain. Giant's Toothpick seemed to gleam brighter instead of being stained by the blood. Rangar noticed Natalia's charge but he could not be worried as another Forsworn came at him. Well Natalia need to cool off anyway, Rangar thought as he dropped to the ground Dove's arrow knocking the Forsworn from his feet. Rangar smiled as he watched a second arrow scream into the fog producing a howl of pain. Rangar signaled Dove to move forward with him, and so the pair climbed the hill. The sounds of battle ringing through the mists.

“Careful Dove. There is usually a mage.”

The pair stopped and readied their weapons, but then the sounds of combat slowed and then died out. A rock rolled down the slope. But soon it became obvious it was not a rock. Dove wouldn't have screamed any way, but the hagraven head still startled the mute girl. Natalia soon emerged as Rangar and Dove entered the camp. Her breathing was from exertion and not from any critical wounds.

“By the Eight! That felt Good!” Natalia yelled, for she still felt the rush from the ecstasy of combat. Rangar smiled as Dove began to loot the dead Forsworn littered around the hill.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

There was a celebratory feast. Though Natalia decided not to eat Dove's butchered elk, but it was still an enjoyable time. Most adventurers tear through a dungeon for loot, then the adventurer leaves, but most bounty hunters are cut from a different cloth. After all why would you waste the fortune of a camp primed for someone to rest there? Also being caught by a vampire, werewolf, or witch is often a bad time. And so the trio gathered around the Forsworn fire.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I had to hunt the Dragonborn?”

Natalia was already deep in her mead, so she busted up laughing. Muttering about who would want to hear the time Rangar got beaten by a bounty. But Dove wore the expression of awe that gave Rangar the courage to tell his tale.

“It was a few months ago. I was in the Winking Skeever enjoying a drink. You had finished your first solo job as I am sure your remember dear.” (Dove was beaming in pride of that memory.) “This was just after I sent you to work with Natalia.”

Both glanced over to see Natalia passed out. Though not before she had wormed her way out of her armor and was laying naked. Dove quickly covered Natalia with a blanket, much to Rangar's amusement. Though Rangar's thoughts drifted to his most recent argument with Natalia. Dove had gone for firewood, and at first they talked as equals in a civilized manor. But soon morality came into the argument and the yelling match had started. Natalia's morality always bothered Rangar, as she was a lusty woman in so many ways. By Talos, Rangar cursed. Why did she have to be so bull headed? Rangar himself soon succumbed to the sleep born of to much to drink.

Dove gazed at her two Nord allies, and giggled. Though no sound came out, Dove as smiling as she placed a blanket on Rangar. The young woman soon left the camp to try and find more firewood. The moon was out in its full radiance, its light bathed the hills and rocks in a warm blue. Out in the distance howls of many wolves rang out, their chorus did not frighten the mute. Maybe even some werewolves are out tonight, Dove mused, and another smile reached her lips. She did her equivalent of humming, It was still silent, but the tingling of the muscles still comforted Dove.

The young Breton girl waltzed through the forest. Her white hair paired with the full moon gave Dove a haunting beauty. A young Forsworn watched Dove, as the girl seemed to dance through the trees. She was like a ghost before his eyes, but her spell could not be broken by the young man. Dove felt something watching her, but when she swung to gaze at another hill to her right there was nothing. Both of the young ones shivered, one from seeing nothing and one from almost being seen.

 

[Seanu Reaves]

The Forsworn boy watched the mysterious girl for some time that night, his mission forgotten. His mind wrapped in the warm haze of infatuation. He stumbled home as if he was drunk though it was more a lack of focus on his surroundings. It was late but the boy did not fear shadows. As he approached his humble Forsworn home, he found his brothers waiting for him.

“Hey whelp! What was your thing about night hunts? 'The night holds the greatest bounty.' Where's the food?”

The oldest brother's sneer disappeared as our enamored boy ignored him and preceded towards the cave entrance. The trio of boys go up from their seats and ran towards the freshly returned young man.

“Noir! Noir! What has happened?”

“What do you mean? Nothing has happened that I can think of.”

“Your fire is gone, Brother. You walk like an enthralled man.”

“Because I am. Yes that is how I am moving now.”

That statement stopped his brothers. They stared in awe and also gawked at their smartest brothers strange speak. Even though he was being groomed as a shaman of the clan he was as hot-blooded as the rest of the children. This boy known as Noir worked his way through his clan's cave. Though he was young, but he had to often traverse the cave often. They young man soon found his grandmother, who was a hagraven preparing his aunt for the hagraven ritual.

“Matron... I have to ask you a question.”

“Who is she? My young Noir.”

“How did you know?”

“Not often does a boy like you come in here with that look. A look that has been unseen by me for so long in our people.”

Noir bowed his head towards the matron. He watched intently as his grandmother, matron of the Forsworn clan Corbeau. He felt his mind began being probed searching for his memories of the is girl. It was over almost as soon as it began though Noir felt bile build up in his throat though he held it down.

“An outsider,” The hagraven hissed, voice dripping with disdain.

“But matron!”

“Silence. You have your promising ceremony soon. But if you leave for this outsider you are no longer one of us.”

Noir listened in silence. His mind distant. He ran his hands through his black hair as he left his matron. In his minds eye he say the white-haired girl, shining among the stares of sadness and then hate. Noir soon made up his mind.

“I am going after her...” Noir whispered to himself. He found his chamber and opened a chest hidden from the others in his family. Thing he took from outsiders who wandered into the camp. Black robes and an ebony dagger, both had an odd sheen of civilization. Noir slowed down, his path becoming dangerously real.

It was dawn as Noir left the camp. He gazed at his old home from the hill and went down to the last place he saw her. And so began Noir's great adventure. The hagraven watched him leave with a mixture of sadness and anger. He is far to headstrong, Matron Corbeau thought. I cannot divine the end of this.

 

[Sierra_G719]

Interesting, only read the first chapter but interesting. Will read the rest later

 

[Harc]

Quite unique, really good color coding for the different characters, ill read some more later.

 

[A.Auditore]

and more?

 

[Seanu Reaves]

Discontinued as of now.

 

[A.Auditore]