The Chronicles of Sayaad

The Bandit King

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen!

Those were the words that were constantly being repeated in the mind of Sverre Einar as he hid in the corner of the cave, shakily holding onto his sword. Danger was by no means a stranger to the life of a bandit. And Sverre thrived on it. He had proclaimed himself to be King of the Bandits at one point. Those that served under him certainly didn't argue with that boast. Any that did would promptly find a dagger in their belly. The Nord was large, wild red hair and a thick full beard obscured most of his face. But his eyes remained visible, eyes that sent the message that he was not a man to be trifled with.

He and his crew had garnered quite the reputation all across the province of Skyrim. People knew that the roads were dangerous these days due to such violent cutthroats, but supplies still had to be moved. There was no choice. Especially with the Civil War going on. All bandits are cruel by nature, but it was Sverre's group whom had taken it beyond. Those that they attacked would have their bodies displayed in macabre fashions. Those who were unfortunate to lay their eyes upon these displays would swear that this surely couldn't be the work of men. No, it had to be beasts or even Daedra.

But in truth, Sverre simply believed that the dramatic flair would ensure that he and his crew were left to their own devices. Of course, several of the Jarls from various holds had tried to send sellswords, mercenaries, and bounty hunters a plenty to try and deal with the bandits. But they all fell to the blade of he and his men. And the Jarls would not waste resources on sending their guards due to the ongoing hostilities in the area. It seemed that Sverre's desire had come true. He had become the King of the Bandits, and his Empire would surely grow just as the amount of coin he possessed.

So how did it all come crumbling down so fast?

It had been a great haul. One of the Khajiit caravans had made the mistake of entering their territory. They were confronted and tribute was demanded for safe passage. The felines refused, and brandished their weapons. They put up a valiant effort, but the sheer number of Sverre's men overtook them. And now, their pelts were being dried outside of his wooden home. The cats had plenty of supplies, and best of all they had that sweet sweet Skooma. The bandits partook of the drugs, the cat meat, and the lady folk of the group. It was a good night. Its good to be the King as they say.

Night fell and the bandits had retired to their tents, and Sverre to his little wooden palace. There were of course the few that remained up to keep watch over the others as they slept. None of them would live to see the run rise again. As Sverre slept and dreamt sweetly of gold and depravity, a shadow had fallen over the camp.

One by one, those that stood guard would find themselves dead, a single clean bolt took each of their lives. Each time it seemed like one would discover a body and alert the others, another silent bolt shot out from the darkness and would strike them right between the eyes.

Then, the shadow entered the camp. Those that were awake had already been systematically dealt with. Those that slept in their tents would have their throats slit, left to bleed out on their bed rolls or piles of hay. The camp was as silent as the grave now, except for the snores that came from the wooden hut. Nimble fingers removed a special bolt from its quiver and loaded into the mechanical crossbow. Then, with a squeeze of the trigger the bolt fired straight and true right at the door of the hut. When contact was made, the bolt exploded into a glorious flame that quickly began to devour the wooden hut like a hungry beast.

It was the sound of the explosion that had finally stirred the King of the Bandits from his rest. And as he tried to take his first gulp of air as he woke he found his lungs choked by thick smoke. His eyes burned as he opened them, and he found his wooden home burning around him. He coughed as he stumbled to his feet. What in Oblivion was going on? His mind screamed. But there was no time to ponder that now. He had to escape.

Flipping over his bed, he pulled open the latch to his escape route. He had found beneath his hut there was an underground cave that lead a bit of a distance a way using the water way. He didn't know how many were still alive out there, and right now he didn't really care. He just had to survive. Just as he was about to jump down, he felt a sharp pain in his back and instead he fell down the hole, landing hard and breaking his leg on the way down.

He screamed in agony, trying to reach for whatever had struck him. Finally his fingers were able to wrap around it, and he tore it free. Which was a mistake, he screamed again and looked at what had struck him. It looked like an arrow but smaller and sturdier. He realized now that he had messed up, this arrow or whatever had definitely punctured something. He felt blood rushing out of the wound. His vision became blurry and his body weakened. He crawled himself into a darkened corner of the cave and with what little strength he could, he pulled forth his Skyforge Steel sword. He had stolen it from the home of the greatest Blacksmith in all of Skyrim. It made him feel like a true member of the Companions, even though those sons of horkers had turned him away when he had tried to join all those years ago.

He waited in fevered anticipation for what felt like eternity. The darkness began to play tricks on him, he thought he saw things within it. Unimaginable horrors from the deepest darkest depths of Coldharbour perhaps. The pull of the Void was getting stronger as he felt his limbs become weaker. Whatever that arrow thing was, it clearly had been dipped in some kind of poison. His body was fighting a losing battle, with that running through him and the blood loss he was experiencing on his back. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a voice in the darkness. It was soft with an underlying gruffness to it. And beneath it all was a purr, almost like that of a cat he had had in his youth. But unlike that noise from his childhood, he found no comfort in the noise. Instead, it chilled him to his core.

"This one was going to bring you back alive, but you had to pull the bolt out. Even wasted coin on a paralysis poison." That's what the voice had said, and that's when Svarre saw it. In the darkness there was a single glowing orb, It was like the eye of some horrible thing, yellow with a slit pupil. Like that of a cat...A cat? Of course...as his brain was beginning to shut down everything made sense about his attacker. The eye, the way he spoke, the purring. A cat had killed the proud Nord Bandit King. What an ending. And then, there were no more thoughts.

Sayaad looked upon the dead quarry and he gritted his teeth. Damn tail-less bastard. Too big to haul all the way back to town. Luckily, the Nord had been kind enough to be holding a sword when he died. Taking it into his clawed hand he examined it for a moment. The craftsmanship was exquisite. The scent of blood and steel permeated it. "A blade too good for the likes of you, Renrij." And with that curse, he took the blade and cleaved the Bandit King's head from his shoulders. After he had dropped the blade he reached down, clutching the head by his hair. His one eye studied the head as he held it aloft, a faint purr emanated from his throat as he did. Tucking it into a bag and throwing it over his shoulder, he began to make his way out of the small cave system by following the stream of water.

After a short time, he had found his way out. Not too far from the campsite that he had set ablaze. He pulled down the brim of his leather cavalier hat and turned from the flames. Once back on solid ground, the Khajiit placed his forefinger and thumb into his mouth and gave a whistle to his horse Faras. Cream colored and beautiful as it was strong. The Nord province might not have been good for much, but at least they had good steeds. Tying the bloody bag onto his saddle, Sayaad mounted his horse and headed away from what remained of the Bandit King's kingdom.