Days ago, Wrothken would have simply walked by, hoping the bandit would end it quickly. Today, however, was the day for action. It was time to reclaim his dignity, dammit; and it started now.
"Why don't you take that mace and shove it up your ass?"
The Khajiit growled. "You know what? I'll just take both!" She swung the mace at him. Instantly, Wrothken knew what he would take from her when he was finished.
He dodged her blow and punched her in the face. She reeled back, grabbing her nose with her free hand. Her eyes were on fire and Wrothken knew he had to be quick. She roared, swinging the mace as hard as she could, barely missing his shoulder. Wrothken noticed her overstep, and he grabbed her weilding arm with one hand, pulling her in, and he thrusted his knee hard into her stomach. As she cried out, Wrothken was able to wrench the mace from her hand. In one quick move, he slammed it against her temple. She moaned in pain, clutching the side of her head.
"Jekosiit!" She hissed. Quickly, she ran from him.
Wrothken's heart thudded as he watched her take off, blood leaving a dotting trail behind. He didn't know if she had accomplices, so he hurried away.
As he walked, he looked south to Valenwood. He briefly considered heading in that direction to start his new life, but then he remembered all Kirsty had told him. The government was in ruin. They were distrustful of other races, so the Nord would be unwelcome and likely alone in the society. Oh, and she said something about them not eating meat. That indeed was a dealbreaker. Shaking his head, he continued on the Gold Road.
With a sigh, he realized that he didn't think about the lonliness factor when he allowed Kirsty to talk him into his journey. He was by nature a very chatty person, once he got over his shyness. He looked back, barely able to see the faint outline of Caslte Kvatch. He wanted desperately to go back and convince Kirsty to go with him, but he couldn't. For one, the afternoon was slowly giving away to evening and she hated travelling by night. The other thing was that she would never leave her bakery; not after all the blood, sweat, and tears she poured into it. Kvatch would burn, and she would remain, rebuilding with her own tiny hands if she had to. Trying to accept his isolation, he turned to his own mind for conversation.
He looked around as he crossed Skingrad. "I wonder what it would be like here in Wine County..." He envisioned himself in a house with cultured friends over, sampling the latest Surilie Brothers concoction with fine cheeses and he couldn't help but laugh. That was no place for him. He was more the type to drink Nordic whiskey in a loud tavern. "Too bad I can't go back to Bruma quite yet." The very thought sickened him.
Soon he saw a woman standing in the middle of the road. She was a Dunmer, wearing only simple clothing. When he got closer, he noticed dirt stains on her knees and leaves in her hair. He smiled. "Afternoon," he said, longing for a decent conversation.
"A perfect tomato... one taste, and it is gone forever. And then... a lifetime of searching for the next one," she said sadly. "Undena Orethi. I am a pilgrim in search of the perfect tomato. It is my grail, and I shall follow it all my life."
Wrothken didn't know what to say. He wanted someone to talk to, but really? Tomatoes? He gave her a nod and continued on his way.
As the path took a sharp curve, a thought came into his mind suddenly. Kirsty was right! I haven't thought about Awour all day! Then he stopped. "Dammit!" He shouted, stomping his foot. Those thoughts were always counter productive as his mind became flooded with memories of the Altmer. Anytime he closed his eyes, he swore he could feel her golden, hip length hair, shades lighter than his own, on his cheeks. He could still see her pale green eyes staring at him, though he was miles away from her. He still smelled her flowery scent--
"Stop it!" He said aloud. He forbade his mind to bring her up again. Obviously Skingrad wasn't far enough.
He glared at the ground as he walked until a round stone caught his eye. It was white and smooth, just laying on the path. Curiously, he nudged it with his foot. It rolled over, greeting him with empty eye sockets and a malicious grin. He instantly felt a chilling numb throughout his body. He nudged it again, turning its gaze elsewhere. Only a few minutes passed when he came across another. He ignored it, forcing himself to keep his head held high, though it was hard resisting the urge to slink back to Kvatch.
"Stop it," he repeated, this time in a harsh whisper. "She is not worth it. I'm stronger than this. I can beat this on my own." His heart pounded angrily in his chest. "Traitor," he growled.
He stomped up the path until he came across two headless skeletons in front of a cave. On either side of the cave was a stake with three skulled impaled on them, along with ropes holding skulls. Contrasting them were heart-shaped leaves with budding violet flowers, wrapping beautifully around the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For sure, the thing I need to work on is bringing Wrothken truly to life while in third person, like SubRosa did with Teresa. I know it still needs lots of work, but I'm not quite sure how to tweak things. Any advice would be appreciated
Just so you all know, he's eventually going to be headed for the Shivering Isles and it happens before the crisis.