Gazing out upon the vast expanse of greenery named Cyrodiil, Tynach Arndell stood motionless. He enjoyed it there. But not enough for him to want to live there all his life. Storybooks were never enough to satiate his endless hunger for adventure. And as Tynach gazed, he pondered on the life he was living. Tamriel had endless wonders to offer, and yet, he was here.
He stood for what felt like hours, before footsteps could be heard. The footsteps of a man in metal boots, pounding hard on the white stone from which the Imperial City was built. And then a voice could be heard. A female voice. And when it came, Tynach thought to himself, 'Oops. Not a man...'
"Arndell!" Yelled the soldier."Off the wall!"
Tynach waited a short while before answering. "Go away. I'm pondering."
The soldier, now storming towards him, spoke louder. "Off the wall, I said!"
But as she approached, Tynach turned towards her with alarming speed, his long, brown hair flailing in the wind. His eyes, a light hazel, glinted in the sunlight, but in a more intimidating manner. And then he spoke. "Has anybody ever told you... that you have beautiful eyes?"
In the ten or so minutes following his 'conversation' with the female Legionnaire, Tynach found himself planted on a bench, holding his left cheek. Imperial citizens and Thalmor Justiciars passed by, some not giving a single care and others glancing at him with a look of pity on their faces.
When he finally moved his hand, his cheek was a bright red, and it became apparent to all that he had been slapped. Very hard. As the pain faded, he thought to himself, 'Damn... That's the last time I flirt with Legionaries.' But it probably wouldn't be...
And then, dusk fell, blanketing Cyrodiil in vibrant shades of purple and orange. Followed then, by night, casting an ethereal blue on the grassy plains and grand structures. Tynach stood to go back home, but immediately fell into a deep sleep...
Tynach awoke to the various citizens of the Imperial City going about their daily lives. Those passing by occasionally scoffed at the sight of him, presumably writing him off as a drunkard, which he thought was hardly fair. After all, he did consider himself the greatest and most versatile soldier that the Legion had to offer. Of course, they didn't know that. “But they soon will...” He thought to himself.
He picked himself up from the bench and stretched before moving down between the rows of buildings, each serving a different purpose. “Bored...” He said to himself.
But soon, Tynach would that his boredom had vanished as quickly as it had come, for there stood a noble, intent on slaying a beggar in cold blood. A knife in hand, the noble harassed the beggar for a few short moments before deciding to end it, at which point, Tynach intervened.
He sprinted forward and shoved the noble with all his might, sending him sprawling across the stone floors. Tynach drew his sword, but not before the noble could flee from the vicinity. As the noble rounded the corner, Tynach sheathed his blade and turned to the beggar, who was now standing upright. A dreadful stench wafted through the air as she moved.
Tynach had to resist the urge to hold his nose as she approached. When she spoke, the stench intensified tenfold, “Thank you... and by what name shall I call my saviour.”
“Tynach...” He said. “Tynach Arndell. And what's your name?”
“I have no singular name, for I go by many.”
“Just one will have to do...” Tynach grinned.
“I am Namira.”
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