The Hunted
Chapter 1;
Why I run
Sat atop a great mountain of stone and ice where few creatures dared to tread. A small fire glowed, barely a few sparks keeping it alive. A terrible gale collided with a tattered tent of animal hides and rotting wood, it threatened to give up and keel over to die in the freezing snow and yet found the strength to carry on.
Equipment that would have once shone like the sun when struck by the light and put fear into the most steadfast of foe's hearts now lay dull and worn. A sword of steel now rusted and nicked. A shield of strongest iron, broken on the rim and scarred from battle after tiresome battle hung a sunken post. A quiver and bow, Deadric in fashion, were thrown haphazardly in the general direction of the tattered tent. Even these weapons of death and destruction were not what they used to be. The blood red glow of these terror inspiring weapons, now barely shone at all, looking instead like dull and faded paint. The arrows were near blunted; their three pronged tips were down to two, one or even no tips that served only as a reminder to their owner that they were in trouble. The bow was cracked and the string was near thread bare and looked a few shots away from snapping.
The owner sat silently by the now dead fire. Bulky and warm clothes from the Skall kept them warm. A large, white cape that was spattered with dried blood hung limply on their back, the symbol of a forgotten order was woven into the aged fabric. A huge hood and large hat made from wolf fur covered their head but there was nothing they could do for their face. Large gloves and boots kept frost bite away and had helped, before it had died, to stop the fire burning them while they heated their near frozen limbs. A beard that had clearly not been kept tidy and clean was the only defence for their freezing face. Lips that were dark pink, but tinged with blue muttered in-comprehendible words. A large scar covered their right eye while the other fluttered as if it were trying to open but couldn't.
Suddenly they snapped open. "YOL" they shouted in an ancient language and the fire blazed into life. Glowing brighter than any other flame and hotter than the sun for a precious second before calming into a still large and warm flame that heated their aching bones. What any passer-by, if any were foolish enough to enter this desolate wasteland, would have noticed foremost were his eyes.
The left was completely normal, sapphire blue with tinges of red around the rims of his eyes that looked oddly like tears had been wiped away from it. Even the area around the eye was normal. Pink again thanks to life giving warmth of the flame and the hair, though frosty was the golden blonde that was affiliated with his provinces people. The other though was quite different. Bronze in colour the area around this odd eye was ruff, almost scaled in its way. What was strangest about it though was the pupil. It didn't even look human. It looked... like reptiles.
He raised his head the stars, the warrior shone in the north, the mage in the east and the thief in the south.
"Oh how the mighty have fallen" he moaned to himself. "The slayer of Alduin, killer of Harkon and the saviour of Solstheim from the clutches of Miraak, now trying to survive in a country that wants him dead"
"Mjoll... Samuel... Runa... I'm so sorry I couldn't save you..." he sobbed. He had spent many a night weeping over his loved ones, slain by that murderous monster with the scarred face.
It had started slowly... a few whispers there of lies about what he, apparently, truly was and the occasional glare from the passing guard. Then it got worse, a lot worse. People would attack him in the streets. With a bounty of over 2,000 gold awaiting any who could find him and bring him, dead or alive in nearly every hold put up and every guard looking to run him through, he didn't dare go near the cities.