We tread slightly through the grass and trees. Stalking like a Sabercat stalks the unknowing deer in the woods.
We watch as the convoy lazily moves across the dirt path. The sun beating down onto the unexpected Imperial captain, he wipes a droplet of sweat descending down his cheek. He removes his helmet in an attempt to cool down, his hair drenched in his sweat.
The captain holds up his hand as a gesture to stop. The convoy and its guards halt, and disperse to the nearest shady tree or rock to sit on. The captain heads towards a boulder on the tree line which has a black shade coated over it from a nearby tree. He reaches for his flask made from the belly of a pig and sips the content’s from inside. Still oblivious to his fate to come, he stands and once again holds up his hand, this time as a signal to carry on.
As he walks, I stalk through the trees. Clutching my bow I look to my left at my fellow Khajiit warrior and give him a nod of approval. He nodes back and scampers very genteelly to spread the word to the others also masked within the trees.
I pick up the nearest stone and lob it onto the road in front of the captain. He tells the convoy to stop for the last time as he looks at the rock lying in the dry dirt.
I reach for an arrow. I briefly stroke the small, soft feather on the end of my arrow and then pull it’s from my quiver. I hold up my bow and pull back the arrow as far as I can get it. I line up the shot. Silence, the only noise is my breathing.
I hold my breath, and let go of my grip from the arrow. It fly’s through the air and within seconds it plunges into the captain’s throat. He shrieks in pain and falls to his knees holding his oozing wound as the crimson red liquid flows from under his hand.
His men shout and panic as they draw swords and create a shield wall around the cart. Fools, they think a simple wall of leather and iron will stop us? They think they can stop the strength of a whole Khajiit warrior tribe? A look of panic and distress splash across the Imperials faces.
Silence.
Total silence.
“Kill them all!” The chief yells from thought out the trees, so laud and freighting that even the most legendary of wolfs would run with their tails between their legs. The whole tribe comes crashing down on to our pray.
A storm of arrows rush past my head, creating a swoshing noise as they pass. We charge and smash into the Imperial’s shield wall. Some of the human soldiers fall to the ground from the sheer force of the charge.
When the wall falls, We slash and brutally slaughter our enemy. we have no feeling for them and do not see them as other mortals, but see them as oppressors and demon’s in human form and that its our job to exterminate them.
Blood showers over us with every strike. Cries of utter pain leave their mouths as we hack our way to the convoy. Heads and limbs fall to the floor and pools of blood form around our feet.
The screams stop as the last throat of the last Imperial is slit. The knife slices through his neck like a hot knife in butter would. The blood stream like a water fall from his gazing slit. And when he hits the floor, we have won.
We move towards the convoy, so eager to see what these humans wanted to protect so bad. We pause for a moment, and then move aprt the two cloths at the back end of the cart.
We peer inside, wide eyed to find the bodies of fellow Khajiit, but these weren’t warriors, oh no. These were the bodies of woman and children, the elderly and the weak. These Khajiit never even held a weapon. Their innocent life’s destroyed. This was not their war, not their fight. These Khajiit should be alive.
We leave the scene and burry the bodies of our dead, and loot and burn the bodies of theirs. We all learned a valuable message today, all Imperials on our land must be hunted and killed, no acceptations. We will fight to the last to protect and avoid another slaughter like this. We have to, we must.
