4E 215

The tall, creaky Pine trees swayed in the light breeze. A few wispy clouds made their way across the bright blue sky and as usual, the forest was buzzing with the sounds of birds and insects. Occasionally, the calls of larger animals could be heard over the low hum of the woods.

It was a perfectly ordinary day in Falkreath.

Jorall Wood-Strider walked confidently along the cobbled road. The moss covered stones made his light footsteps almost silent. He was a broad shouldered Nord of34, although his auburn hair had not yet begun to grey. Jorall was taller than most of his kinsmen, and was very well built. He would have to be, in his job.

A keen, strong axe hung at his side, it's steel head ready to clear any obstruction, be it low hanging branches, bracken, or something more sinister. Steel -tipped arrows rolled slightly in the quiver on Jorall's back, alongside the pinewood bow that had served him so well.

Jorall was a Falkreath Ranger. His profession was somewhere between that of a hold guard, a warden and a hunter. The job involved patrolling and policing the hold; Though Jorall was far further ranging than a town guard. His patrols could take him anywhere in Falkreath; the lake shore, the forest, down deep caves or up the slopes of lofty mountains. It was by no means a boring job.

There was little in the hold that posed much of a threat to Jorall, his combined cunning, prowess and strength would easily handle most situations. Jorall required backup on only the most perilous of assignments. He was far from the invincible Dragonborn of old, but he was still alive after all, and he thought that could only be testament to his proficiency and skill.

If the Jarl needed something done (and done well) in his hold, the Ranger would be the ones to do it. Although they were relatively few in number, (there were seven of them) they never shied away from any task. Indeed, so renowned were they for their courage and determination, that the Jarl of Whiterun paid three-thousand Septims a month to Falkreath in exchange for a weekly inspection of his holds more rugged areas.

Jorall stopped in a small clearing as few hundred metres from the roadside; it was lunchtime. He sat down on a stump, rummaged in his pack, and brought out a chunk of bread and a cooked chicken breast. As he ate, he thought about his route around the hold; he still hard a sizeable area to cover before nightfall.

In general, Jorall liked his job. It paid well, kept him in good shape, and it was almost never boring. As an unmarried man, Jorall had little interest in sitting around the house all day. He much preferred his active, busy lifestyle. To say he worked extra hours would be an understatement, in fact.

He had always liked Falkreath's woodland, ever since he was a boy, growing up in the hold. Something about them just felt… right to him. He liked the sounds and smells of the forest, and this was one of the reasons he worked so much.

Jorall had joined the Ranger when he was 19. His father had died when he was 18, and Jorall several months out to travel around Skyrim, to "See the the land he lived in" as he put it. When he returned to Falkreath, almost a year later, the men in the tavern were much impressed by the stories of his travels. Within days, word reached the ears of the Jarl's Steward, and she summoned him to the Jarl's Longhouse a few days later. After making sure the tales were true, she asked if he would be interested in joining the recently formed Falkreath Rangers. Jorall was sceptical at first, but after discussing what the job actually entailed, his attitude towards it changed, and he enthusiastically agreed. He was inducted a week later, issued with his armour and axe.

A special ceremony was performed in the Ranger Station, where Jorall was presented with his Pine Ranger's bow. These were presented to all Rangers when they joined. The bows were all made from the wood of one enormous pine tree, deep in the Falkreath Forest.

Two years later, after proving himself to be an excellent Ranger, Jorall was promoted to second in command, under his friend and mentor, Erdvir Swift-Arm. Immensely proud to have reached this position, Jorall re-doubled his efforts, and eleven years of hard work and determination later, Jorall became Head Ranger when Erdvir retired. The last two years had been the best the Rangers had ever had; more positive feedback came in, crime levels reduced by some percentage, and the hold was, in general, a very safe place.

Although he was in charge of the Rangers (Under the Jarl, of course), Jorall rarely barked out orders. He was liked and respected by his colleagues, and by the Holdspeople in general. He was well known for his bravery, endurance and experience; but also his kindness, intelligence and understanding nature.

After he had finished his meal, Jorall stood, adjusted his light armour, and set off back toward the road. Time was marching on, and the hold wasn't going to patrol itself.