» Fri May 13, 2011 12:05 pm This is the FanFic i promised as the lead up to my next RP currently known as "Coldharbour 2"
Anyway.
Please do take the time to read and critique the upcoming chapters.
Enjoy. ^_^
Chapter 1: Unrequited Fame
Blades clash, ringing out a chorus of clangs and singing swings in the volcanic Ashland. A lone Khajiit stands his ground against a trio of Imperial bandits; parrying when they lunge and swiftly kicking them to the ground but never striking a finishing blow. Circling the Khajiit hesitantly the three bandits take it in turns to force an attack but get continuously knocked back by the feline's quick counters and solid defence. No-one speaks, no-one explains.
A deadlock of gazes, silence is broken only by the echo of colliding metal. A moment of bravery washes over one bandit as he charges in and attempts to tackle the Khajiit to the ground. The feline steps aside, trips his foe and then utilises an enchanted blade. The small shock discharges sharply into the bandit's shoulder causing him to spasm involuntarily as he hits the dirt. The man's comrades take a step back and lower their blades as they eye one another with a knowing look.
"You're him aren't ya?" One speaks up, aiming the question at the Khajiit.
The Feline pulls a concerned sneer and simply replies, "What are you on about?" his smug grin turns sharply into a scowling grimace.
"You're that one that came back from the realm of the Daedra!" the bandit exclaims. A worried expression crosses his friend's face as he looks the Khajiit up and down and gradually pieces together the fact that the feline's appearance matches the description in the rumours.
"You're right Falco! Grey fur, blue eyes and blades attached to his arms! Why didn't you notice earlier you fool! Look at the boss; he's been knocked out cold! And no blooming wonder if we really are fighting who you say we are!" the third bandit shouts as if he's been hit on his helmet a few too many times and has a constant ringing in his ears.
"You're the one what said we should get him, Monty! 'He's all alone and asleep' you said. 'He won't see us coming' you said." Falco shouts back as if Monty's volume deafened him also.
As the two bandits squabble between themselves the Khajiit reminds them of what's at hand by hitting the blades on his wrists together to get their attention.
"So you believe the rumour of a Khajiit surviving within a Daedric realm for 9 years do you?" He questions them, staring disappointedly. "If you do then you're less arrogant than these native Dunmer. And I damn you for it."
Falco and Monty look at each other in silent confusion. Hesitantly Falco speaks up; not wanting to hang around but also puzzled as to why the Khajiit is upset at being recognised. "Shouldn't you be glad we fear your reputation?"
"Like hell I should!" the Khajiit sputters in distaste. "Why should I be happy that everywhere I go I get questioned and followed? I remember the good old days when people would act as if I were never there and I could go about my business without fools saying 'hey aren't you that guy?'" His words flow out like steam as he rants.
"Let's get out of here." Monty interrupts, obviously more scared of staying put than Falco is.
Then a voice from behind the Khajiit catches his breath and orders "No! We'll take this guy on, just think of the stories they'll tell of us when we are the ones to defeat 'Si'Ra the Blue Moon'." The boss gets to his feet, regains his balance and then winks towards Falco and Monty as they reassume battle stance.
"The Blue Moon. Oh how I hate that nickname." Si'Ra grunts, preparing himself to be attacked once again. The boss stamps his foot on the ground to signal to his comrades.
The three of them charge toward Si'Ra with their swords held high ready to slice down the Khajiit all at once. Si'Ra readies his stance, glancing around he plans his manoeuvre ahead of time. The men come within an inch range of Si'Ra's compact blades, then unexpectedly swing short and turn face. Scattering in separate directions the bandits flee as fast as their feet can carry them.
"You cowards! You were the ones that attacked me!" Si'Ra screams, angered at their idiocy. Now alone again Si'Ra sighs; bored and frustrated he unclips the blades from his bracers and slides them into sheathes at his belt. As he walks over to his camp a fire still smoulders and last night's rabbit is still on the spit. Si'Ra picks up the stick and takes a fierce bite out of the charcoaled flesh taking his anger out on the food for comfort. After a mouthful or two of barely warm meat he tosses the remains into a nearby pit and continues onward towards his next destination.
