Corin Darbon, the badass Breton [1]

• Posted by Inge February 11, 2016 - 1,184 views

  

  A powerful wind blew across Whiterun’s seemingly endless plains. Two horses galloped at a frightening pace, both their riders leaning forward to catch as little wind as possible. One of the horses, a dark brown one, jumped a fallen tree, far higher than was necessary, but it’s rider just laughed, looking over his shoulder at the other rider, seated on a skewbald horse, who just shook her head, though she laughed as well. 

  The two rode on, giving their mounts free rein. The dark brown horse shook it’s head and bucked, but it’s rider was clearly used to this behaviour, as he wasn’t moved by it in the slightest, he just laughed again, patting the animal on it’s neck.

  After a while, the riders reined their horses back in, slowing down into working canter, and then into a brisk trot. This took considerable effort as neither animal was quite ready to slow down and felt far more like running some more. The howling winds only made that worse. 

  The skewbald horse reared lightly and it’s rider pressed her heels into it’s flank briefly, ushering the animal forward again. The horse shook it’s head but he obeyed.

  “Well, that was exhilarating, wasn’t it?” the male rider said with a broad grin on his face. He rubbed his horse’s neck. Both animals had their coats entirely soaked in sweat, and their riders weren’t much better. Even Skyrim’s cold was easily chased away by a wild ride.

  The other rider, the woman, who had blonde hair, partially tied to keep it out of her face, smiled.

  “That it certainly was."
  She was pretty, in a classy sort of way. The only thing that distracted most people from that were the scars on her chin and mouth. They had earned her a fair bit of ridicule where she was from, along with the mocking title 'the Scarred Lady'.

  It didn't bother Corin. His face wasn't clear of battlemarks either.

  They reached the road again, close to where a bridge would take them across the river. 

  There was something raw and pure about Skyrim’s rivers. It’s many roaring waterfalls made them both treacherous and incredibly beautiful. This land was just as untamed as it’s inhabitants, both humans and creatures. 

  They were not far from Riverwood now, and from there it would not be much further until they would reach their destination, Castle Gonduin. 

  For the male rider was no one less than the new lord of the place, Corin Darbon, a young Breton battlemage. His companion was a Breton as well, Helene Monatte. Both had their reasons for being in Skyrim, but neither really felt the need to leave anymore. At least not for any other reason than good old adventure. 

  Horse, Corin’s, well, horse - he had never been very good with names - snorted and shook it’s head.

  “Sorry buddy, no more racing,” Corin said, but they did allow the animals a somewhat speedier trot; letting them cool down too fast wasn’t a very good idea either. That would just allow the muscles to get stiff. 

  “You’d think they’d be tired by now,” Helene mused with a faint smile, as her horse still did not seem satisfied with the pace at which they rode. 

  “They really seem to think they are in charge, don’t they?” Corin remarked. 

  As they rode around a bend, Helene suddenly pointed at something ahead of them; something shiny was laying on the cobblestone street. Corin quickly hopped off of Horse - for once he had not donned his regular Ebony armor and truth was, it made horse riding infinitely easier - and walked over to it. Behind him, Helene had dismounted as well.

  Then, everything went very fast. In no time, four bandits had positioned themselves between Corin and Helene and their two horses. Two of the bandits had arrows ready, so a quick attack was out of the question. Corin swore under his breath. He had grown careless. He had allowed himself to drop his guard entirely, and this was the consequence. Helene’s face seemed to indicate she felt similar about the situation.

  However, Corin’s mood lit up when he saw what the men seemed to be after - at least partially - the horses. The two that were not keeping them at arrowpoint walked over to the horses.

  “Really wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Corin said dryly. 

  “And why’s that?” one of the archers asked, unimpressed. Corin shrugged.

  “They won’t come with you. Try if you must, but I genuinely don’t recommend it."

  He had wanted to say more, but a loud neigh and a scream kind of silenced him. The next thing he noticed was Horse rearing so high he was almost standing up straight. His front hooves cleaved through the air and one of the men was lying on the ground, motionless.

  Corin sighed.

  “Told you,” he said, as he drew his sword and Helene readied a spell.