Do'Kasha

Vincent did not do anything to lower his blade. Rather, he kept the Iron longsword held high. If he could perhaps distract the stranger, he could get a clean shot at her neck. But, then again… She could have allies. Allies who would miss her.

With a scowl, the Dunmer slowly lowered his Long Sword, the point of the blade now resting akin to the ground.

The dull crunching of leather boots against grass and twigs was the only sound that came from an unnamed forest of Cyrodiil. The forest which had formed at the edge of the Imperial City’s waterfront. Usually, it was the home to many, many creatures and animals. Mudcrabs came to mind, as Vincent continued to trudge through the forest.

Crunch… Crunch… Crunch…

The last time he had been here, it was… Many, many years ago. When he was still a child, When he was fleeing from the hut, his father’s blade in his slender hand. Coated with the blood of his mother and father. Oh, the memories that came back to him where horrific.

They had pushed him over the edge. Abused him. Misused him. Didn’t care for him. He just snapped, and… The Dunmer forced such thoughts from his head. They’re gone now. And he was better off without them. He had a new family. The Dark Brotherhood. They cared for him. They taught him how to use magic, blades, bows. How to sneak in the shadows. The art of subterfuge.

Yet, even with his new family, he found himself…. Longing, for his birth parents. So, here he was.

The Dunmer came to a stop… Yes, here he was. He remembered it all too well. The house in which he stayed with his mother and father.It had changed, but only slightly. Time withered away at the wooden house. Vines had grown over it. Metal was rusty….

… There was a snapping sound.

Quickly, Vincent turned on his heels, and drew the iron longsword which hung from his belt. Not his weapon of choice, but it was the only thing he could get his hands on.