DATE UNKNOWN - FORESTS SOUTH OF MORTHAL ___________________________________________________
Rise. The sun arched over the mountain range to the Northeast, it's colors seething through the remaining low hanging clouds as if struggling to hold it's slipping grip on the sky. As it finally sank and the blessed darkness spread over the land, the sounds of nighttime enveloped the forest. Two brilliant amber eyes focused on a lean young deer standing among the grasses. For over an hour the eyes watched the deer graze, Skyrim winds slipping over the rustling leaves overhead in an ancient dance, scene below oblivious to the impending doom.
Presently the doe's head shot up, lithe neck cocked to one side, enormous brown eyes urgently searching the trees along the river bend.. it's entire form twitching as it strained every sense to find the source of it's fear. With no warning the massive sabrecat launched, hurling it's giant body forward with amazing agility, forelimbs outstretched with curved claws reaching at the startled deer, who made a valiant attempt to leap sideways. The great cat slammed into the frail animal sending it hurtling to the ground with a crack as branches gave way and it tumbled, struggling to find it's footing. The monster cat's claws pierced the supple brown hide, glint of blood shimmering for a split second as the moonlight found it. Wet and nearly black in the dim light, the blood emerged running in streaks down it's rump as the cat took a second swipe, literally crawling over the fragile deer with rips and tears, scrambling for the kill. And then all at once silence descended again, as it had thousands of times before after flashes of the brutality of life here, and the broken deer would run no more. It's long tapering legs kicking as the muscles realized the fate of the whole, hooves spasming in jerks as frothing red clogged it's severed throat. The cat crouched over it's meal, loosing his grip and lapping at the wound in preparation to feed.
Go forth and kill. An arrow darted past the cat's huge head, landing with a thunk in the tree beyond sending it's ears shooting up in alert. A rumbling snarl rose, blood of it's fresh kill slipping down over now-bared fangs as it sunk into a prowling crouch, head turned towards the arrow lodged ahead in the bark. Angered to be disturbed it slunk forward a step, straddling it's kill with wide jaws hanging open as if to taste the very air that hung with an unnatural stillness all around. It's ragged mane up in alarm , a screaming crow pierced the air. The cat braced itself, scowling and turning it's head, in tune with the bird's shrill cries that indicated another presance.
Too late, the trap was set and death called the hunter to it's end. Another arrow exploded into the great beast's face, cracking back into the pit of it's left eye socket. It reared and clawed, slapping it's paws at it's own face, turning defensively with a pained screech as a third arrow struck, this one missing it's intended target and lodging in the cat's foreleg. A crashing ahead startled the cat more so, and it shrunk back against the tree with a fierce roar that would surely send any living being skittering away in terror.
A lumbering shadow emerged before the cat. Dim light found the edge of a massive axe held high over a mass of scraggly dark hair, gathered atop the Orc's muddled greenish head in warrior fashion. Ripped flesh and congealed blood marked the recent battles upon his lined face, a face that had seen and valiantly defended his family stronghold, saw many a foolish fighter on his path to Sovengarde before his exile, turning hapless bandit for Shor-knows what offense. But something amiss, and even the great cat sensed it, hissing furiously and swiping a powerful paw forward only to have it slide harmlessly over gleaming bits of what remained of his formerly shiny Elven armor. Mud and filth caked up under his chin this Orc showed no fear, no concern, only fury brimming through empty eyes as it moaned with a distorted deep voice, wordless and groaning. He plowed the axe down, shuddering with force, but the cat easily avoided the clumsy strike, closing the gap and sweeping at the Orc's legs sending him off his feet and flat on his back, the sound muffled by the leaf-coated forest floor. Following with a leap of lightning agility, jaws wide and arrow still protruding from it's skull the sabrecat aimed for the throat.
The next arrow found it's mark, slamming up under the cat's great chin. With a shocked scream it tumbled to one side as the hidden assailant stepped forth, longbow still raised and aimed with expert grace. A hood concealed the features but the tall, slender form belied elven descent. He sidestepped with arrow notched, circling the fallen cat in practiced steps, making time for the hulking Orc to shuffle and stand. In blind rage and pushed by maddening pain, the sabrecat hooked a paw forward again and again, thick skull at a dangerously low angle emitting a perpetual hiss that shot blood spurting outward from it's gravely wounded face. Cocky now, the hooded wood-elf archer called out to the surrounding darkness in a smooth, boastful voice, "We have him Lady, the hunt comes to an end!" No response came forth and he chuckled, a light airy sound as he flipped his hood revealing a smooth angled face and long white hair pulled together behind his neck. He grinned, a youthful twinkle in his eye thinking he'd proven his usefulness and reward would come to him. He was just coming into his own, this one. Two-hundred-fifty (this being rather young for a wood-elf,) years old, born basically with a bow in hand he'd shot past the ranks of his peers to become quite the talent. Like most who are fortunate enough to learn their calling so early in life, he was unafraid and confident in his ability. He just needed now to make a name for himself, and working for her, here in these wilds of Skyrim, a land on the verge of greatness.. or chaos, the chance for riches and fame beyond his wildest.. He could barely contain his excitement!
Just as the dead-eyed orc shuddered to raise his great axe again, the Elf moved to step back and allow the Orc to deliver the finishing blow. In a split second his expression jerked, contorting into a look of horrified surprise as his boot caught just barely on the limp carcass of the dead deer, it's giant eyes rocking in it's head as it's body was further desecrated. The graceful archer's arms shot up in attempt to regain himself, but far too late he realized with a curse, and he smacked into the tree's base just below his initial arrow, first shot into the tree to distract the cat. In twisted irony the last sight his well-trained eyes would witness was that very arrow.
Great Imperial human scholars say that it is likely tbrainless beasts are in summation a function of survival instinct, with no reasoning or thought behind their behavior, simply carrying on endless as all of nature like well-oiled machines. Heedless to this theory, the pain maddened sabrecat would take his vengeance, and turned sharply to clasp it's viciously sharp claws into the light armor of the elf's chest. The beast's great weight forced a curdling scream from his lungs as the air was crushed from his body. In a flash fangs shredded delicate skin. Flailing tendons were ripped into the chill of the night air erupting from the destroyed throat with a steaming burst, heralding the soul's departure from the mortal plane in grand fashion, yet not quite as fufilling as the promising archer had hoped.
She watched this pitiful circus, unamused. Seething and angered by the inadequacy. Not good enough, another failed experiment. She strode with otherworldly quiet. A creature of the dark, languidly moving over the brush until she was several feet away, watching silently as the cat tore with a symphony of gurgling snarls, chomping at her former companion with the reckless abandon of a wounded predator. Oily crimson matted over it's thick fur. She observed, lost in thought, her mind beyond somewhere. The Bosmer archer's corpse above the shoulders was reduced to an unrecognizable mass of jagged flesh and pink chunks, still complete with a neat ponytail dangling from the side. Pale eyed and strangely foreboding for her diminutive stature, her robes engulfed any hint of the shape beneath save for long unkempt strands of dark auburn framing what little was visible of her face. Delicate girlish brows pulled together seriously, her gaze was pulled away from the messy scene at last by the lumbering form of the Orc, his booted foot caught up to the ankle in a mass of roots as he groaned. Her anger rose a notch higher. He was a bandit in his most recent former life, and she mused silently to herself about his now improved intelligence as he finally stumbled and broke free to stand. He was indeed massive. It was a shame he was not good enough. She waved an arm impatiently, and he jerked the brutally curved axe high and brought it down upon the back of the cat's neck, which promptly split open and added even more red life fluid that soaked in a oozing puddle among the leaves. The cat released a final lowly hiss as it convulsed and snapped at him blindly, the arrow breaking off from it's eye socket and sending the bodies of the deer and the elf into a swath of tangled flesh. Useless.
Virhalla whirled away with a disgusted sigh. She didn't even begin to consider recovering the gear, and had to force herself to not stomp away like a spoiled child. With another wide gesture, her thin arms snapping up and over her head in a fluid circle, the undead Orc slumped forward over his former target's still-warm carcass with axe still gripped as life left his body for the second time. She didn't bother to glance back and stalked into the trees leaving the ball of death behind, having wasted another night with useless tools. The townsfolk would be up in arms after finding the scene she had just left but she could scaracely find it within herself to care now, dissapointment tearing at her sharp yet obviously unstable mind, and again inklings of the feeling.. that she was indeed insane. Perhaps a drink would calm her and kill her frustration enough to allow for rational thought. Madness? Never. She was perfectly sane. A simple thing, her quest for perfection in the power that she wielded. By the time she could sense life ahead again she had convinced herself. The torches ahead cast rings into the night, wavering like wraiths and beckoning her back to the cursed town of Morthal.
_______________________________________________________________________wip