The Weekly Mudcrab #79
Literary Corner
Life always has its own surprises. Months of being away from home certainly has taken its toll on my own sanity… I was running out of time, out of strength. Lips chapped, hair and beard frozen with ice shards, the tip of my nose painfully shedding skin as the cold slowly but surely rotted me away.
The silence brought on by our predicament was suddenly broken, a loud howl was sounding in the north as an arrow whizzed through the air killing one of the bandits on the hill watching over us. Before the bandits had time to draw steel a great wolf leaped out from the wilderness, it's rider cloaked by the ensuing carnage. It sunk it's teeth into the bandit next to the threatening chief spilling blood in a curtain of gore, and through the panic of ourselves and the bandits a warrior leaped from the wolf's back.
The wind swept gently over the rolling hillside, a tune which sent long stalks of pale wheat dancing in a mesmerizing wave. The sky was clear save for thick clouds that collected on the horizon. He had made landfall no more than a day previous, the soil foreign beneath his well-tailored Altmeri boots. Valdyrion had come to see for himself the desolation of the northern heartland and the ominous growl of unnatural thunder and black clouds far to the north informed him that the planemeld still held sway over the Imperial City. He turned away from sight, but it didn’t drown out the roars of combat or dull the smell of smoke that reached his nose.
Feroxus wasn't a man who was about the carnal pleasures and bobbles. Sure he had wealth, for he did much hard work, as a hunter, a guide, and he even ran his own business. Feroxus was not a man who enjoyed hurting people if he didn't have to, for inflicting pain on one person for no reason would be a weak man's game, he holds himself to a set of personal tenants. Feroxus knew that from a young age that he found that he would help people where he could, even at the cost of his own time, or money.
