User blog:Psychomantis108/Story: Myths of Mundus: Dark Pilgrimage - Chapter 12: Vengeance

The orange light flickered across the camp, glowing over Nair's eyes, forcing him to come to. The Khajiit's eyes slowly opened but retracted once again as flickering light hit his adjusting retina.

After a moment or two, he was able to sit up again, rapidly blinking as he tried to make sense of the world around him. He looked around to see that the flickering orange glow was a camp fire, at the center of a camp. The camp contained a dozen tents, most of which were well built, designed to keep the cold Skyrim air our, that could often be found in the Jerral mountains.

Nair looked up to see several Barbarian men, marching around the camp, each one clad in fur armour, with leather braces on their forearms. In truth, the armour just looked like a formality as all of the tribesmen looked tough as nails.

The group hadn't seemingly noticed Nair at this point, giving him a chance to come up with an escape plan. He'd have to be discrete, considering that he couldn't run on his ankle in its current condition.

Seeing no other choice, the Bandit slowly began to slither along the ground, moving along as slowly as possible to avoid detection. Nair's eyes constantly shifted back to the tents opposite him, to make sure that nobody was walking around the camp, who could spot him and prevent his escape attempt or worse, call the others.

The Khajiit made some degree of progress before feeling something heavy on his shoulder, slowly pressing down against his left bicep, forcing him to come to a stop. He looked back, knowing exactly what to expect and was not disappointed. Behind him stood one of the Nord tribals, pinning him down with his boot and giving the Bandit a confident smirk. The Nord had dirty, neck length, brown hair and stubble around his face, his features were somewhat on the boarder between sharp and a dull knucklehead look.

"Going somewhere?"

Shit... Nair thought as he glanced down to his restraints, no longer seeing a way out of this, he just smiled and shrugged.

"Can't blame a guy for trying..."

The Nord just huffed, returning his grin, though his was far more menacing.

"Oh no, we usually do a lot worse than blame people, who try to escape."

The Nord laughed as he snatched Nair's arm and dragged him up to his feet, quickly turning over to the tents.

"Ymir! He's up!" The Tribal yelled in direction of the furthest tent away from them, his voice was practically tingling with delight. Almost instantly, as if 'Ymir' had been waiting for this, the tent flap lifted up and the Nord in question came storming out.

Nair's eyes widened as they clapped on the man, he was around eight to ten feet tall and though he looked incredibly old, with his long grey beard and long, white mane, that only covered the back half of his head, the man looked like he could kill a giant by punching it. Every muscle in his body was rippling, he had so many scars that his body resembled a map of Tamriel and his left eye was completely white, dull and milky.

The Khajiit somehow got the feeling that this Nord wasn't too happy to see him or if he was, it was because he planned to do something unspeakable to him. Either way, Nair found himself fearing for his own safety as he looked this Nord in the face as he slowly came to a stop...

A deathly silence fell over the camp as the two of them finally met, the other tribals were hesitant to even speak as they slowly re-emerged from their tents and watched the meeting of the minds from afar...

After a moment or two, Ymir approached Nair again, this time taking two steps closer, so that their faces were inches away. Nair could smell the rotting meat trapped between those piss yellow dentures of his and tied up in his beard but refrained from reacting to the foul stench.

Nair glanced around, looking for some indication as to who was supposed to talk next, after a few moments of awkwardness, he decided to take the initiative.

"Considering the trouble that you went through to get me here, I take it that I've been brought here for a reason." The Khajiit began, speaking somewhat confidently, despite his predicament.

"That you have..." Ymir agreed, placing his huge paws on Nair's shoulders, almost knocking him on his ass in the process.

"We don't take kindly to assholes, who murder our people! You, your bitch cannibal and your gimped Orc are going to learn that the hard way!"

"M-Murder!?" Nair gasped, gently backing away and scratching his head with a nervous grin on his face.

"My friend, I think that there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Myself and... my people, haven't even encountered any people along the Silver Roa-" Sadly for Nair, his explanation was cut short as a huge, barrel-like fist hit him straight between the eyes, knocking him on his back, knocking him flat out cold.

"Hareld? Take him to my tent... I want to deal with this one personally..."

'Hareld' the scraggy, brown haired man, who had foiled Nair's escape, gave Ymir a nod of respect before grabbing Nair's unconscious form, placing his arms under the Khajiit's as he dragged him off.

"The rest of you! Get yourself prepared, I want perimeter watch! His friends might come for him and if they do, I want it to be us who gets the drop on them, got it?"

The rest of the clansmen nodded and quickly wandered off, to return to their duties as Ymir turned back to the limp Khajiit as he was dragged away to his tent.

This is goin' to be a long night...

Arlas was knelt down, by the side of the Silver road, the trail lead them to the spot before it forked off to Chorrol. The landscape was a little more bare and barren as they got closer to the mountain's summit.

"Well?" Bologra asked, growing anxious to get moving as the night's air was making him somewhat eerie and ready for a fight.

The Bosmeri Priest slowly looked up and nodded, rubbing the dust and dirt from the road off of her fingers.

"Looks like they dragged him through here..." She uttered before breaking the path and rushing off, into the wilderness.