The Orcs and Nords were the most used to marching. they never flinched in the long days of walking in heavy armour. The Imperials and Bretons, however, gave me a few problems...but nothing much.
We marched for three days, camping occasionally for a few hours at a time. AT our latest camp, I noticed movement in the trees, and drew my sword. I should note that I carry with me three weapons: A katana, "Angel Whisper",a wakizashi, "Angel Cry", and an ebony claymore, "Nightmare". I ddrew out the "Whisper", and called to the forest, "Show yourself!"
A small pair of glowing yellow eyes appeared in the foliage. Khajit eyes. I becknoed it out with my hand. It's okay; I am no hunter." I sheathed my sword at my hip. It slowly, cautiously emerged. It was a Suthay-Raht, the common form of the Khajit. He was shaking.
"What is the matter?" I inquired, striving to make my voice gentle and soothing. "What happened?"
It's look of terror increased. It's eyes bore into my soul. It's eyes, so felihne, yet so human. I saw so much terror. I heard myself letting out a low whining, almost sympathetic to it.
"What the-"
It bolted.
I turned, facing the Nord who had called out.
My look must have withered him, for he ducked his head, but I said, "Post guards, 4-6 hour shifts. Wait my for my return."
I turned and sprinted into the woods. I weaved between treees, using supernaturally enhanced senses to avoid slamming into one. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. They burned, it felt like acid was running though my veins. A branch slipped my perception, snapping hard against my shoulder. I could no longer feel my legs.
Until they went out from under me.
I stumbled, dropped to my knees, and rolled, finally stopping as I leapt up, the hilt of my katana in my hand. I realized that, in my haste, I had run into the woods in only my clothing, a katana on my hip, without armour.
I looked around. I reached out with my sense. I heard nothing. The most unsettling sound is complete silence.
I had come to fight an army, and I was alone. Standing alone in the woods. The imeprail had conveniently forgotten to mention that I was fighting Khajiit, if indeed I was. Khajit are known for their guerilla tactics.
Was this going to turn into a guerilla war?
I had lost the khajit. I turned, and began to walk back to the camp.
