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The Bandit was patrolling the small caverns of his area, and spotted a small desk and chair with a note and quill on it. He slowly strolled over to the table and sat down, picking up the note and read it to himself.
Sire,
I need you to commandeer a small caravan heading towards your cave by high noon tomorrow.
K.
The date was written yesterday, and he ran back up to his chambers in the small caverns. Life had become monotonous in the small cavern with his bandit companions. He shoved the note in his pocket and climbed up the ladder to his personal quarters. It was a small cavern room, with a few chests and stolen items, as well as two bedrolls and a cupboard.
He opened the door from his chambers and walked through the narrow path lighten by small torches in makeshift holders, which led to his companion's rooms. He could find no other members, and become angry and mad.
Where the heck are they?!? This boring month gets interesting, and they leave for a small raid!
He didn't approve of such a raid, but they normally went on small ones by themselves to nearby farms and villages. He kicked at the dust and frowned in thought. Perhaps he could trick the caravan; he wouldn't pass up such an opportunity like this. He walked through the many corridors and opened a small door leading to a tiny room with a few chests and armor lying on the ground, and stepped inside and put on a leather vest and some chainmail armor. Satisfied with his armor, he walked back out and shut the door and locked it.
However, in the corner a pair of unfriendly eyes looked upon the man. The Bandit felt disturbed and searched the room to no avail, and then stood still as he once again looked around. In the corner, a figure in a special gray and black mottled cloak slowly reached for his quiver, and knocked an arrow into his bow. He quietly drew the string back and aimed at the bandits left foot, and nodded to his companion who was crouched next to him in a blue velvet cloak and hood. The man nodded back and slowly crept out of the dark shadows of the corner as the other man released his fingers and sent the arrow sprawling into the Bandit's foot as the man yelped in pain and surprise.
The bandit fell to the ground and cradled his leg as he screamed in pain. Out of the corner of his eye, the man saw, out of the corner of his eye, two figures creeping out of the corner towards him. The bandit shuddered and tried to regain his balance, but fell and a black leather glove with a blue velvet robe on grabbed his collar and hefted the bandit up. The man said, with a sinister smile,
"Why, hello there, mister. I'm sorry, but you'll have to come in with us."
The bandit scrambled out of the man's hold as the blue velvet man drew a sword on the bandit. His companion, unknown to the bandit, snuck behind the bandit and pulled his dagger out. The bandit screamed and ran backwards, right into the strange cloaked man, who rammed the butt of his dagger into the bandit's skull, knocking him unconscious as he drifted off into warmness.
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Darloken grinned at his blue velvet companion as he hefted up the bandit leader.
"Good job, Xaver!" Darloken said to his friend as they both pulled down their hoods, revealing Darloken, a bosmer, and Xaver, a dunmer.
Darloken was short and looked about twenty, as he was an elf and lived for an extremely long time. He had a small blonde beard with brown streaks and his hair was tied into a knot behind his head. His hair was blonde as well, with brown streaks, also.
His eyes were piercing green and blue eyes as he beamed a grin at his companion. He was a Ranger, a special Hunter, extremely skilled in Archery, daggers, hand to hand, light armor, agility, and the like. He was also a retired assassin, but did some mercenary work as they were now with his companion.
His companion, Xaver, was a battle mage and was extremely muscular and tall, dwarfing his friend in size but not in power. When they were little, Xaver was still muscular and strong, but his companion usually won, as Darloken was fast, agile, and could deliver a shockingly hard punch to the gut, as well as some extreme kicks.
Darloken had always been skilled with a bow and dagger/ or short swords.
Xaver was always skilled with blunt weapons, as well as many magical abilities. They were known all around Cyrodill as a force to be reckoned with, known as the Wayward Rangers. Darloken, of course, was the only Ranger, but he was smarter than his friend and led the group of the two of them.
Xaver was broad in shoulder and width due to all of his muscles. His face was stern and his nose showed signs of being broken years ago, by a strong kick delivered by Darloken. Nevertheless, they had grown to be quite good friends and companions.
Xaver's face was strong as well as his jaw. His eyes were as black as his hair, which was tied with a red bandana, but usually concealed by his hood as the same was for Darloken's. Xaver wore a blue robe, with chainmail armor underneath it.
Darloken wore a gray and black mottled cloak, which multiplied the wears stealth ability by threefold, and a suit of custom made black leather armor underneath of his robe.
Darloken gestured towards his friend and said, "We better get em to the guard station before he wakes up."
His companion nodded back at him and said, "Yes. Hard to believe he and his friends were the terror of Anvil. Rather sad. Good thing you came up with that fake note about the caravan, they were large in numbers and could've taken a while to destroy one at a time."
Darloken opened the door to the forest and held it for his friend as he walked out carrying the unconscious bandit. Xaver threw the bandit on his saddle and hoped on in front of the slump of a figure. He stroked his horse and waited quietly for Darloken, who left their calling guard, a large feather of the eagle in front of the door to the cave, then stuck a steel dagger they had on the door and mounted his own horse. His horse was specially trained by him to respond to only him and Xaver, by their touch and the name they called the horse. He trained the horse to respond only to the name he had given it, Kicker. His horse also responded to commands, such as a flick behind the ear and a gentle touch of the tow or knee in the ribs section of the horse.
Darloken led the two of them towards the main road towards Anvil, where they would receive their payment, as it was only a few miles away. His bow was ready and his piercing eyes were scanning the horizon as they slowly trotted onwards.
On the way to Anvil, Darloken's question pearched on the tip of his tounge.
"So...how many did you get?"
His friend looked at him, narroweyed.
"...Twelve." His friend said back, suspicious of Darloken.
Darloken grinned broading and shoved his hands in his friend's face. "Eighteen!" He grinned even wider as his friend frowned and moved his horse ahead of Darloken's.
"Don't be jealous...you can beat me this time. Maybe." Darloken said still grinning. As he said the last word, he pushed his horse into a gallop as Xaver was soon to follow in suite, chasing after his friend, determined to beat him...