Roland stopped dead in his tracks. He steadied himself for a moment, barely daring to breathe. He could feel the cool winter wind on his pale face, snow clinging to his bright beard. He fought it for as long as possible. He could see his prey right up ahead. One carefully placed shot, and his family gets to eat for a week. It was a great elk, sipping from the icy river North of the town of Riverwood. He had been tracking this creature for hours, with the help of his Shepherd, Reese the Dog, running swiftly but lightly through the light snow in the mountains, until he met his prize. Now he just needed to wait for the right time... The right angle. The war was on in Skyrim. The Stormcloaks and the Empire fought throughout the land, squabbling for dominance while families had to go without food, water or basic provisions because of it. A shame that a country would destroy itself over pride. No country was worth the lives of Roland's Children-his wife. So no, he would provide for them always. He would stay out of it. He would live.
Roland saw the creature turn towards him just so he had a clear line to where the Elk's heart should be. He very slowly notched his arrow.. He very carefully drew back the string.. He waited.. He needed it to be perfect.. Steady... Steady.. Then, with a twang and a sharp whistle, he let it fly. The falling flurry was disturbed by the flight as the arrow pierced the animal. But it was not where Roland had intended to send it. The creature reared and yelled in pain and began to trot off downriver, and not slowly. Roland whistled, and Reese was off after it. Roland was then on his feet, bounding for the bank that the path curved around. His dog would continue to push the beast down the path. Roland just needed to cut them off to get the final shot. It shouldn't be too hard since the Elk was already wounded.
He moved swiftly, gliding across the snowy rocks as gracefully as an actor gliding across a stage. He climbed over a steep embankment, rounded a large boulder, and made for a tree stump at the top of the hill. He heard Reese yelling at the dear with her bark. She was near, but he had beaten them by about thirty seconds. He had that time to figure his position and plan his move. He crouched near the stump, and tried to cover himself as much as possible in the snow and muck around him. Then he readied his bow, notched an arrow, and he waited. He had roughly fifteen seconds left. He aimed down the path, his heartbeat quickening as the barks grew nearer.. And then, there they were, coming around the sharp curve in the path, Reese on the creature's heels. The dog slowed; stopped, sensing the presence of her master. It was up to Roland now. He aimed, steadied his breathing and let loose. This time, the arrow found its home in the heart of the beast, and it toppled over itself, never screaming.
He walked down the bank to where the dead thing lay, and motioned for Reese to come. He examined the Elk and recovered the spent arrows. The first one was out of commission, as the head broke off inside the beast. Roland threw it aside. He reached down, and felt the hilt of his Longsword, Grimsu. He drew it from its sheathe, and with a ringing noise, it came from its home, gleaming in the snowy sunlight. Grimsu was the sword of Roland's family, the Rend-Heeds, and had been passed down from generation to generation for a hundred years, never losing its edge, or its splendor. It was a broad, heavy weapon, that did require two hands to be used. It had a white bear carved into the handle, and a bear etched in the blade near the middle, as it was his family's crest, and he bore it proudly, though he was not of noble birth. Just as he drew back to begin gutting the beast, he heard the snap of a twig behind him.
"Well what've we got here?" A voice called from some trees to the south.
"He looks like a pitiful fool," another voice from somewhere around the same direction, but somehow it was not the same.
Then, five fully armed men marched out of the trees toward him, surrounding him. Reese was gone. "Thanks for the meat, old man," said the first. He was tall and he looked like a turtle might've looked, if a Mage turned him into a human. "We appreciate you taking the time to track it and kill it for us, but we'll be taking it off your hands now."
Roland couldn't believe what he was hearing. He looked up to them. "Bandits." He said, simply.
"No. worse," barked the second one, "We don't just take things from people. We kill men for sport, mate." Roland tightened his grip on Grimsu, trying to show these men he was armed without actually threatening them.
"Walk away, lads. Please. For all our sakes. Before you end up lying in the snow, dead. Your corpses carrion for crows," Roland said this with finality in his voice. "Please." They took this as a challenge. They began to converge on Roland, short swords in hand. Roland was a man that played fighting the smart way. The right way.
Instead of allowing them to have their moment, he immediately rushed the leader, swinging upward with Grimsu, cutting right through the man's leg. It fell to the ground, followed by his body, screaming. He turned and lopped one's head clear off his shoulders. The men were surprised and baffled by this, But did continue to fight. The others began striking at him, and he kept parrying them, dancing around them like they were foolish peasants with no knowledge of swordplay whatsoever. He made a left hook for the closest man's jaw, snapping it right then. He then stabbed the sword through him, sending him groaning to the ground. Just then, the two remaining men charged him, penning him to the ground, pummeling his face over and over until he heard growling coming near, then before he could even finish his thought, Reese was there, chewing up the first man, leaving one man left on top of him. Roland could not find the grip of Grimsu, so found the next best thing. The arrow tip that he had broke Out of his elk's body. He shoved the arrow head through the man's eye, and then grabbed his sword. He lopped the man's head off, leaving a spray of blood lingering down the air. Reese was now chewing on a corpse.
It was over.