Part I : Dishonour
Spoiler:
The first rays of light shine over the oak trees at the edge of the camp. Birds sing, leaves dance, and the wood is calm, untouched except for the small camp that sits near its edge. Those who rest in that camp had rode their horses, and those beasts woke, neighing and clopping, ready to journey on.
Inside the largest of the three tents, a Bosmer, known as Captain Berengot, rises from his bedding. He is calm. Though his people had been at war with the Khajiit of Elsweyr, they had agreed to a truce, so he isn't particularly worried on this day. He leans over, and wakes his Lieutenant, Eradrann.
“Morning already, Captain?” groans Eradrann, sitting up in his sleeping roll and rubbing his eyes. “I'll go wake the others.”
“No... let them sleep. This is a time of peace, a time of calm,” smiles Berengot, glancing out of the tent as he opens the flap. He steps out into the field on which his camp sits, and walks to the pile of ash that, yesterday, was a pile of logs they had burnt for warmth. Berengot chuckles when he looks at the ash, realising that just a few months ago, that fire would not have been possible, for the Khajiit were stopping supply caravans to Valenwood, and the Bosmer made a pact to not harm the flora in their province. He takes in a large breath of fresh air, and steps back into the tent and grabs his bow, reinforced with steel, and about 20 hours with tips of iron, planning to do a bit of casual hunting in the surrounding forest.
He steps out, and strides confidently to the treeline, and pulls his bow out. He sneaks over to a rather large, sturdy tree with low branches, and begins to climb it. He reaches a branch at a height of about 30 metres, and sits upon it, laid back against the trunk, his bow sitting upon his lap. He sits there for a while, waiting for a deer or some other animal of prey to walk near him and become victim to one of his arrows.
He is dozing off when he sees a bit of fur behind one of the other trees. He pulls an arrow out of his quiver, prepared to shoot whatever it is he's seen. Then, he sees an antler stick out, and he can almost taste the venison he'll be eating later. The buck steps out, into his line of sight, but he waits, lining up the perfect shot, knowing not to let the thrill of the hunt get the better of him. The buck leans down to nibble on some grass, and he releases his hold on the arrow. It soars through the air at blistering speed, catching the deer in it's chest, sending it toppling to the ground, convulsing and bleeding rapidly.
He knows that he has caught the beast in its heart, and it will be dead within a matter of seconds now. He waits until the twitching stops, then slides down the trunk to retrieve his fallen opponent. Coming up beside the fallen deer, he realises that it's much larger and, presumably, heavier than he had perceived it as. He bends over and tries to hoist the animal over his shoulder, and though he struggles to to this, he manages it, and begins to meander back over towards his camp.
Stepping back onto the grounds of his camp, he suddenly freezes in his tracks, and the buck slips off his shoulder and hits the ground with a squishy thud. The tents he had left were gone, and all that was left in their places was ash. The horses had been slaughtered. 2 Bosmeri soldiers lie dead on the ground, one lies near death, and Eradrann is nowhere to be found.
Berengot runs to the one soldier that is still holding on to life, but life is slowly slipping away from the young lad.
“Cunot... what happened here?” yells Berengot, fury raging in his heart.
“Khajiit warband... came through, attacked us... They took Eradrann... I heard them saying something about Athay...” mumbles the soldier.
“Khajiit? But... we had a truce. Do they not honour their agreements? Have they no pride in their decisions? Cunot, believe me. I will avenge you, as well as Glatho and Agarond. I will make those damned cat-men will suffer if it's the last thing I do on this world."
Inside the largest of the three tents, a Bosmer, known as Captain Berengot, rises from his bedding. He is calm. Though his people had been at war with the Khajiit of Elsweyr, they had agreed to a truce, so he isn't particularly worried on this day. He leans over, and wakes his Lieutenant, Eradrann.
“Morning already, Captain?” groans Eradrann, sitting up in his sleeping roll and rubbing his eyes. “I'll go wake the others.”
“No... let them sleep. This is a time of peace, a time of calm,” smiles Berengot, glancing out of the tent as he opens the flap. He steps out into the field on which his camp sits, and walks to the pile of ash that, yesterday, was a pile of logs they had burnt for warmth. Berengot chuckles when he looks at the ash, realising that just a few months ago, that fire would not have been possible, for the Khajiit were stopping supply caravans to Valenwood, and the Bosmer made a pact to not harm the flora in their province. He takes in a large breath of fresh air, and steps back into the tent and grabs his bow, reinforced with steel, and about 20 hours with tips of iron, planning to do a bit of casual hunting in the surrounding forest.
He steps out, and strides confidently to the treeline, and pulls his bow out. He sneaks over to a rather large, sturdy tree with low branches, and begins to climb it. He reaches a branch at a height of about 30 metres, and sits upon it, laid back against the trunk, his bow sitting upon his lap. He sits there for a while, waiting for a deer or some other animal of prey to walk near him and become victim to one of his arrows.
He is dozing off when he sees a bit of fur behind one of the other trees. He pulls an arrow out of his quiver, prepared to shoot whatever it is he's seen. Then, he sees an antler stick out, and he can almost taste the venison he'll be eating later. The buck steps out, into his line of sight, but he waits, lining up the perfect shot, knowing not to let the thrill of the hunt get the better of him. The buck leans down to nibble on some grass, and he releases his hold on the arrow. It soars through the air at blistering speed, catching the deer in it's chest, sending it toppling to the ground, convulsing and bleeding rapidly.
He knows that he has caught the beast in its heart, and it will be dead within a matter of seconds now. He waits until the twitching stops, then slides down the trunk to retrieve his fallen opponent. Coming up beside the fallen deer, he realises that it's much larger and, presumably, heavier than he had perceived it as. He bends over and tries to hoist the animal over his shoulder, and though he struggles to to this, he manages it, and begins to meander back over towards his camp.
Stepping back onto the grounds of his camp, he suddenly freezes in his tracks, and the buck slips off his shoulder and hits the ground with a squishy thud. The tents he had left were gone, and all that was left in their places was ash. The horses had been slaughtered. 2 Bosmeri soldiers lie dead on the ground, one lies near death, and Eradrann is nowhere to be found.
Berengot runs to the one soldier that is still holding on to life, but life is slowly slipping away from the young lad.
“Cunot... what happened here?” yells Berengot, fury raging in his heart.
“Khajiit warband... came through, attacked us... They took Eradrann... I heard them saying something about Athay...” mumbles the soldier.
“Khajiit? But... we had a truce. Do they not honour their agreements? Have they no pride in their decisions? Cunot, believe me. I will avenge you, as well as Glatho and Agarond. I will make those damned cat-men will suffer if it's the last thing I do on this world."
