Toralf lies back against a rock, along with the steel Imperial bow he stole from a corpse the orcs ambushed, and sighs. Several feet away, a rushing river's waves beat against the shore, a nearby road sign pointing across the river reads "Riverwood." Riverwood. Hmm, I'm way off course. The Imperials are everywhere nowadays, I should probably head back to Mzinchaleft and see if Mjoll is alright, he wonders to himself.
Suddenly, out of the nearby woods, a girl is heard giggling -- as this girl emerges from the trees, running down the hill and right by Toralf, she continues to giggling. He can faintly hear the girl cry, "Help me, please help," as she seemingly water-walks across the river and into the nearby town.
Toralf shoulders his bow and follows, with quite the distance behind the girl. Toralf recalls the moment she passed him by, her long auburn hair, simple clothes, and dark eyes, red or black, it was too quick of a passing to truly discern.
A storm begins to brew as Toralf fords across the river and makes his way into the unusually empty town, devoid of even a single guardsmen. This is exceptionally queer, even for small Riverwood. They always have at least one night's watchman, he wonders to himself, confused. He glances ahead of him and sees the distressed girl dart up the road and around the inn, disappearing behind the corner. He suddenly hears a blood-curdling scream, and the sky lights up, for being the middle of nightfall, this is strange indeed. Endar looks up, and sees the moon explode and a red light spread across the sky to the furthest horizons.
A horse neighs nearby as the girl screams again, but this time, it's a dark rider atop a black steed with blood red eyes. The rider has a set of armor only heard about in mythic tales. Could it be Daedric armor? Who is this dark rider?
The girl returns around the inn again, this time slowly walking, instead of running, and stares blankly at Toralf with a half-smirk, blood dripping from her lips. The dark rider rears back the steed and yells at the child, "Babette! RUN!"
The world around Toralf morphs, the storm recedes, and a guard runs up to him, "Are you alright, kinsman?" Toralf glances around, and all is back to the same ol' Riverwood he's grown up to know, up at the moon, which is the normal, enormous Secunda that hangs among the stars of the night sky. Strange...
After a brief hesitation, he finally answers, "Yes... Yes, I'm well. Thank you, must have been a sleep walk." The guardsman places his hand on Toralf's shoulder, "Perhaps you need better rest than the rock you've been leaning on all day," he chuckles. For all the hunter's training I've had, I can't even hide from a distance, he wonders and smiles, "Thank you, but I'm well enough to continue my trek. Well met."
Toralf turns to the nearby bridge to cross over the river, but sees the same red orbs that were with the orcs, and starts to jog toward the river, straight at the eyes. Toralf pulls the bow off of his back as he makes his way into the woods. A few minutes pass as he reaches a small clearing, and readies an arrow, holding them at his hip.
Snarling can be heard behind him, causing him to whip around quickly and aim his bow at the sound. Ten feet in front of him, a wolf with dark red fur growls at him. Upper lip quivering, showing it's fangs, the wolf begins to trot toward Toralf, who aims the bow at it's head. An arrow lets loose and misses the wolf as it sidesteps just in time, still charging, now at top speed. Toralf's eyes meet the blood red eyes, and he enters somewhat of a trance.
The wolf jumps at him, grabs the bow out of his hand, and lands on the other side, jerking it's head and letting the bow loose, flying into the group of trees nearby. I'm a hunter, I should know better than to make eye contact... Curses. I'm dead now. I'm done for. I'm unarmed and un protected, he worries to himself as the wolf charges for another run at him.
Twenty feet away, running at full speed, Toralf tries his hardest to look at the wolf's throat and not it's eyes.
Fifteen feet, blood and mucus drooling from the creature's dark mouth.
Ten feet, barking, growling, screams fill Toralf's head as the beast gets even closer by the second.
Five feet, fear rises like a spreading fire in Toralf's heart, the creature leaps at him again, however, this time Toralf meets the leaping paws with his own bare hands, grabs them, and flips the beast end over end above his head, and slams it down to the ground. Holding the wolf's neck down with his forearm, he takes his other hand, closes his eyes, and struggles to beat the beast with all his strength.
Unable to open his eyes from pure fear and rage, the texture of fur disappears from his skin's senses, now replaced by human skin. He slowly opens his eyes to reveal he's holding down, by the neck, a tall, dark skinned woman. He quickly snaps his arms up and falls, in surprise, into the grass behind him.
What in Oblivion... I'm dreaming again... I must be, he confusedly wonders to himself as he stares at the woman as stands to her feet slowly, facing away from Toralf.
She's very tall, with dark hair, red streaks throughout, dark skin, but tan at the same time, with what looks like small cracks all over her body. What I felt was smooth skin, not dry chapped skin... What is she? Endar's eyes run down her body, noticing the genuine leather armor with what looks like deer fur. The armor comes to a point just below her buttocks, and she's not wearing boots or gloves. That armor looks familiar... Somehow.
She slowly turns around, eyes first, "Your mother taught you survival skills quite well, Toralf," the woman's voice is not normal, it echoes into itself, "By the way, to answer your question, I'm a dremora." Toralf cocks an eyebrow... She can read my thoughts now?
She chuckles deeply and turns around fully, revealing her fur and leather armor is cut down to her stomach in front, somewhat revealing of her breasts, and comes to a point around her thighs, just as in the back. "Are you eyeing my skin? Do you find me beautiful, Toralf. That would be very queer of you."
Toralf answers slowly, "Why?"
"Well, because of your relation to me."
"Which is? I don't even know your name!"
"A daedric name. Okay, I really am dreaming now," he says as Iyazyr chuckles once again.
"Trust me, you are not dreaming, but I must be brief: You have a very dark future ahead of you, and you would do well to heed my words. Go to Falkreath, south of here, not towards Dawnstar, like you were planning. Along the west skirt of the town, you'll find a dark door. Mention the words 'Sanguine, my brother.' to allow yourself access. You'll know what to do once you do this."
Iyazyr snaps her head back and forth, snorting lightly, "It is time for me to go, Toralf. It's good to see you," she says sweetly as she rubs the back of her soft, warm hand on his cheek. He pulls away, "I don't know you." She nods, "I know, but you will soon enough. Go now, to Falkreath, if you're smart, you'll heed my words."
Her head snaps to the side again and she huffs this time, "Farewell, Snow-Song." Reddened smoke crawls over her skin as she morphs back into the dark furred wolf, and swiftly, quietly runs back into the woods.