Alnar and the Myths of Legends

Our Heroes

One day in the forest of Yundahr, outside Forsworth, Alnar was practising his skills as a Mage: Destruction, Illusion, Conjuration and Mysticism. He was casting fire and ice spells on some damp, mossy rocks at the base of a cave. He set it alight and extinguished it. All was well, until an arrow interrupted Alnar and his casting; one fireball strayed and hit a bush. It quickly caught alight and Alnar's sense kicked in to douse it. He did so with haste as he wanted to seek the source of the arrow; it wasn't long before his short robe, at the ankles, was snagged on something curved. He looked down to see the end of a bow quickly drawn into the bush, and shouted out, "Who's there?" No reply.

Alnar continued to shout, and even threatened to ignite the bush. This drew out the archer from their hovel. He immediately saw the features of her face, those of a Wood Elf's. She was wearing loose clothing, typical for an archer; a padded breastplate, padded shoulders, padded elbows, all padded with the finest leather of Forsworth. It was clearly hand-made by someone.

"I see you drew me out, then. Not wise to do that, you know. Could be a Daedra hiding in this bush, here," she said, hitting the bush with her bow.

"Daedra don't use bows made from mahogany. Not a wise choice; it can snap under pressure, you know," retorted Alnar. Their conversation was off to a poor start, criticising each others' movements.

"It's been casted with a spell of Mysticism so it won't shatter, even under the pressure of a South-Giant, thanks. I'm Salnar."

"I'm Alnar. I study Mysticism and the lot with my father at home. You ought to see the things he casts on."

"If you're the son of Grogor Cunder, I certainly have witnessed a lot. He cast my bow, you know, when I was only six. I was learning to shoot at five."

"I began learning Mysticism, then Illusion, then Destruction, then Conjuration, starting from the age of five, too. I progressed by the year, you kn-" but he was cut short by a rushing body between Salnar and himself. Alnar directed his view to the body to see a well-built boy chasing a deer.

"Hey!" Shouted Salnar, clearly vexed at the boy. The boy caught the deer and put it down, then slung it over his shoulder to walk to Salnar and Alnar.

"Sorry about that, my family need to eat today. Don't know about you, though. Got a good deer, however; good that," said the boy as he approached, not seeming to be aware or care about Salnar being annoyed with him. He was an Imperial from Cyrodill. He had handsome features on his face: a perfectly square nose, brown eyes, short but flowing satin blond hair coming just short of the bottom of his ears. His ears were round, shiny with some sweat, as was his forehead. He had light plating of iron armour on his left shoulder going down his left upper-arm and it branched down from the shoulder diagonally to meet with his right hip. This was the same on his back as with his front. His entire right arm was bare, but he grasped a small, iron dagger in his right hand. The dead deer was slung over his left shoulder, his left hand holding onto the neck. With the gash in its back, it certainly was dead. Alnar hoped this, at the least.

Salnar was the first to retaliate. "Excuse me, I believe you ran through us whilst we were having a leisurely discussion about magic."

"Oh, sorry about that. I would have gone around if I could, but I didn't want to risk the meat," replied the boy, in a calm voice. "So who are you two?" He gestured towards Alnar as he said this and looked at him questioningly, then looked back at Salnar.

"I'm Alnar, and this is Salnar. Who are you?" Alnar answered in a calm, approachable fashion.

"Alnar and Salnar? Only a letter difference!" The boy sniggered. "I'm Cuthbert, an Imperial, as you can probably tell." Alnar was disgusted by his tone when he laughed at their name, but he never took into account this name difference. He saw this as a bit of a laugh and sniggered, too, to lighten the tone. Salnar wasn't best pleased by this.

"I'm an archer for a living, and Alnar is a Mage for a living. What are you, Berty?" She said this with a sarcastic, joking tone as she said 'Berty', for a joke and to also show she wasn't one to mess with.

"I'm a natural-born warrior. I was born in Chorrol in Cyrodill and moved here when I was two years old with my parents after the Oblivion threat came. It's gone now, I've heard, but I'm not going back. I've learned to fight as a warrior since I was six. I could wield a dagger at eight. But eight or nine years on, now, I can wield a great sword with ease." The conversation continued like so for a while, until they were approached by an Argonian.

"Hello there!" It called out as it slid down a nearby tree. It had several daggers in pockets in a sash and all over its body. It looked like it could take on a dragon, with an except of the leather greaves and gloves it wore. It had a rough shirt on and some rough boots, too. "What are you discussing, if I may?"

"Scum! Get away, wretch!" Cuthbert immediately shouted, waving the Argonian away. Alnar stopped him quickly.

"No! Argonians are our friends, not our enemies anymore! They have done nothing to us, so give this one a chance," he turned to face it. "What is your name?"

"I am Esther, a trained thief and 'rogue', if you like. I began to steal and run about at the age of nine. It's not right, I know, but I can hunt down deer like you can a rock."

Salnar spoke up next, "Hey, since we're all here, why don't we go get something to eat together? We can discuss more in the safety of a house as opposed to the vulnerability of this forest." Everyone agreed, and Cuthbert apologised to Esther for his ranting; he was brought up to hate them, but he will give her a chance. Alnar could feel a bond between the four of them, as if they were supposed to be together for something important. But for now, they went to to Forsworth for something to eat from the market, and found a spot at the edge of the village to sit down and discuss their lives.