Hunter Or The Hunted? Options

[The Wolf]

Hecerilar, the altmer hunter, sat on a bar stool. He was in a bar called 'Broken Sword', in western parts of Skyrim. It had been tough to get there, but he had finally made it. He was here to hunt the wolves.

Suddenly he realized, that he was surrounded by nords. As he sipped his mead, one of them spoke.

"What's this 'ere, a lonely elf in the land of frost? Feeling a bit... chilly, eh?" First the nord seemed offencive, but then, suddenly, he smiled warmly, and patted the altmer's back.

"Sorry about that." Quick exchange of glances between the nords. "You look like a good huntsman. Have you heard of the great Snow Wolf that lurks up the hills? We've seen sometimes it's tracks, which are huge, but we haven't found it nor seen it."

There was something strange going on here, Hecerilar knew, but he already could picture the beast's pelt as his helmet. It was far too great temptetion for him. He remained silent.

"Afraid, elf?" the nord mocked. "Don't go, elf." He whispered that, suddenly looking him with a strange look in his eyes. Was it pity, remorse? "Some others have done that, but have never returned."

Hecerilar just laughed.


*****

To Be Continued.....

[The Wolf]

When he got up, he had made up his mind. He read the labels on the rest of the bottles on the shelf, until he picked up and drunk few healing and fatigue potions. Then he took a bag from the floor and started putting the rest of the potions in. Once that was done, he walked to the door and went out to the beginning blizzard.

At this weather, he couldn't travel. He would have to stay for the night in some house, and in the morning hurry after the tracks. It would be a long and difficult way, but with these potions, he could do it. They were a real treasure.

Hecerilar letted his gaze wonder around the street and the houses, in search of a proper housing. There was a somekind of a sign in front of one house. He walked to it, and studied it more closely. The picture on it was two swords crossed and a smith's hammer. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. He took the nord's silver axe from his bag, and started bashing the lock, until it broke. He pulled the door open with a creaking noise, stalked into the house and jammed the door shut as best as he could. The darkness of the room blinded him momentarily, but soon his eyes started to get used to it. Only little light came from the thick-glassed, small window that was on his left side. Right in front of him was a long desk, the one that is usually used in shops. On his right side were a couple of shelves that were full of items. On the corner next to the desk were stairs leading up. He opened his bag and pulled out a potion of Night-Eye. He drank it. Slowly the room lit up in his eyes. That room was full of various weapons. On the walls hanged swords of different sizes and styles from claymores to shortswords. The shelves were filled with knives, arrows and other projectiles.

He cautiously sneaked across the room to the stairs, managed to bump his knee on the corner of the table, and limp up those stairs with some swear-words.

The second floor was quite simple. A bed, desk with candles on it, table, chest, fireplace, few shelves with forks, spoons, knives, table cloths, plates and books. There was a larger window in this room, granting him some light from outside.

He relaxed. No one was around in this house. He went to the fireplace and begun to start fire on it with the firewood next to the hearth. With the first tiny flames on the wood, his night-eyes vanished, leaving him to the twilight.

He stumbled his way to the desk, took some candles and went back to the fireplace to lit them. He placed few of them on the table and the desk. Then he did his best to seal the window from any outside intrudors.

He sighed heavily. He felt really tired. He blowed out most of the candles, leaving only two left, and added some wood on the fire. Then he lay down on the bed and tried to get some sleep.




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Okay, soon is time to start writing the next update...