The field of flowers softly swayed in the gentle breeze. His eyes squinting in the sunlight as he peered over the beautiful plains, stretching as far as the eye could see. The fields of Dale are not something one forgets easily, especially when they are born and raised in these lands. Tribes may fight and struggle, villages may fall. Though as a child you never see it that way. You come to play in the field, to hide from the evils of this world. The tall grass hides you from the 'monsters' and beasts that not only threaten your dreams but also your imaginary kingdom. Things just simply are different. Sometimes you cannot hide, sometimes you must stand and fight.
His knees drug along the dusted stone while being pulled by the two men. His head and face had been roughly shorn with a knife. Only patches of his grey hair still remained in traces that were barely visible. His body had seen the lash numerous times, as traces of crimson had dried all along his back and chest. His family crests that had been beaten into his skin using the old tribal ways of tattooing with woad had been crudely removed. Urses tried to breath but felt his lungs burned with every forced movement though he paused when he stared down at shined boots.
"So, you are her bear? The Gray haired warrior? It seems that She places her hope in falsehoods. You do not think I know of your venture into Forochel? My spies have eyes everywhere. The flaxen haired huntress. The elderly scholar. The princely warrior and even The Elven Hunter."
Urses growled to clear his throat, spitting the blood upon the boots of the man whom stood before him. His adrenaline shot through his body, beginning to numb the pain from his wounds and allowing him to fling himself at the man. The two men braced and tugged the chains around Urses' neck, jerking him backwards and slamming him into the floor with a thud.
The man grinned and looked down at the sprawled North-man. "I've heard about the strength of the North-men from my father, it seems he was wrong about it. My father was a soft man, he did not know how to maintain a dominance and aggressive stance towards his enemies. He let his pride consume him. Tell me, Urses of Dale. Do you know who I am?"
Urses stood, raising his head and looking to the man before him. His eyes began to simply stare at him, he couldn't believe of what stood before him. Though he didn't show it. He growled again, clearing his throat and spitting this time upon his tunic before finding the boot slam into the back of his knee, forcing him back to the ground.
"Oh, but what ever is the matter my friend? Do you not wish to embrace the truths? I will do what my Fathers Master Failed to do. Your Order Will burn, and I will make sure of it. You wished to return to Arrowhaven? They've forsaken you, Urses. You will never find them, they will never find you."
Urses stood again, this time rising slowly. "You? Tha's a fine joke lad. Wha'dya gonna do? Combe their hair teh death? Or Perhaps yeh gonna help them find'a dress that'll fit to tight eh? Prissy lil' milk drinker. I'll end yeh miserable existence right here. Go ahead, release me. Or are yeh to much like yeh father? Tell meh bastard, do yeh have strength to even draw tha' steel?"
The man grinned faintly and raised a brow. "My father, was a hunter. Not of beast or that sort. Of men. Man, woman and child. It mattered not. His bow knew not the difference. His arrow did not discriminate. He slaughtered without mercy. This how ever was a mistake. As this leaves behind anger and rage to those left behind. He only fought for fortune and fame. Caring not for little else. My master, how ever has promised great power will come to my house should I fell this... Order. So indeed, I shall."
Urses quickly pulled the chains, knocking the two men to the floor and lunging for the man with a roar that seemed to echo inside the halls, though not one of anger, or fear. A cry of sorrow that played upon the air itself. An apology.
The two wrestled, Urses furiously beating the man into the ground before suddenly stopping and slumping to the floor, the knife sticking from his side, biting its way deep into his lungs as the north-man lay helpless. Gurgling for breath as he slowly pulled it free and dug it deep within the mans thigh. The two men rushed and started to drag Urses away, only realizing until they dropped him that it meant little.
His skin grew cold, and the fire that burned within his eyes slowly dimmed. He watched as the man slowly pulled the knife from his leg, tossing the steel aside while staring right back into Urses' gaze. Watching the life slowly fade from him while he knelt beside him and whispered.
"I am Yilgtig, second of my name. Slayer, of The Bear."
