The rain beat down upon his cloak, soaking him to the skin and chilling him to the bone as lightening lit up the monstrous landscape filled with gnarled trees and bare shrubs. His unusually straight, pure white hair was soaked with the rain and began to irritate him by revealing his cat-like ears and letting the cold get to them, he needed to find shelter soon, an inn, a hut, shed, bridge anything! He went to reach into his pockets for his map, but he remembered. He was wearing all of his custom black Mithril armour that he named Midnight.
Damn.
He took cover under one of the very few trees in the environment that had leaves, put his hand to his hood and pulled it back and rummaged through his satchel bag and found rings, helmets, a bag labelled alchemy.
I had forgotten about this. He thought to himself. Suddenly he found what he was looking for, a tattered old map with his own little labels on. After looking at it and realising his rough coordinates, he sighed deeply and took out a small bottle labelled Potion of Warmth and put it to his lips. The hot, steaming liquid flowed down his throat and gave him a new strength.
And now, northwards. He strolled briskly to the north, occasionally looking down at his antique compass to check that he was heading in the right direction. Then, just as the moon rose, he heard a wolfish howl (probably a Lycan) the outline of a small house appeared on the horizon.
Yes! He thought, it was all going according to plan.
He turned the knob of the door and pushed, it made a large creak as he stepped in the dark room, cluttered with broken crates and small wet patches in the dark, dank corners. He shut the door behind him, then sat down and took a candle from his soaked bag, and also, a small tinderbox. He lit the candle and went to take a small bedroll out, but he saw something that made him stop and take hold of the hilt of his elven short sword. A man, huge in-fact, he looked like an Imperial but he was too hairy, and had ape like features, he had a thick, black beard as if he hadn't shaved or had a proper room in weeks and also had shaggy brown hair.
He drew his weapon silently, and crept over to the man without a sound then extended the sword to the mans neck and kicked him abruptly to wake him. Fortunately, the odd looking man didn't wake and sit up quickly, but he did open his glowing, golden eyes and then spoke, in a voice so low it could have come from one of the daedra themselves.
"What in the name of Azura are you doing you filthy feline freak?" He demanded. The first man looked taken aback and was shocked how a man in such a position could talk like that. A long moment of silence passed between them until the ape-like man spoke again,
"Okay, lets start over. My name is Jyrath, and you are?" he stepped back from Jyrath and sheathed his sword with a sliding sound.
"I'm Firenze, I hope you don't mind if I ask ? what are you?
"Well, despite the impolite nature of that question, I will answer. I'm a Brangaar, the last of my race, a mix between royal Imperial blood and the blood of an Imga. "
I'm separating it because I dont know how this forum manages lots of text.