The Downfall

Rules:
1. Use decent grammar, but you don't have to be perfect
2. Do not control other Role-Players
3. Do not be overpowered.

STORY
The Crudele Sette once kept everything in check in Valenwood. They were a group of swift swordsmen and deadly archers, and hardly anybody knew about them. They had ties everywhere, in the government, the Empire, and even the Thalmor. Every problem they stopped, they did it quick and clean, even before it proved a threat. When the Great War erupted and the Thalmor invaded, they overthrew the government. Not even the Crudele Sette could stop them. Someone had betrayed the Crudele, and told the Thalmor who they were. The Crudele ended up like the Blades; shattered. Olaf, possibly the only Ranger alive, fled to Cyrodiil where he lived until the Great War was over. Once the White Gold Concordat was signed, Olaf was enraged the Empire would give into the Thalmor. He fled to Skyrim where he started looking for more people to recruit into the Crudele and get revenge on the Thalmor.

Here goes nothing!

The sun was setting as Olaf crept through the pine woods near Falkreath. He heard that a Thalmor patrol was coming through to spy on the city. He ducked down in the shrubs on the side of the road and readied his bow. He heard the footsteps of Elven Boots on the cobblestone path. It was the Thalmor! Three of them, armed with swords and they no doubt had a good knowledge of magic. They were in single file formation, the leader in black robes. Olaf aimed and sent a glass arrow into the air, as it reach such heights it swirled down in elegance down into the heart of the leader. He dropped dead, and his followers were shocked. Olaf took out his axes and lunged out of the bushes, and hacked at the first elve's throat watching as the blade of the axe rip open his throat seeing the blood drench itself upon his axe, drops of blood fell unto the sending him to the grave. He kneed the second elf in the gut, and threw him on the ground. Olaf crushed the Thalmor agent's helmet with his boot and killed the elf inside, he stop for a moment to see the blood curling it way down from his eyes, he'd kneel down to place his palm over both their eyes as his index and pinkie press down upon their eye lids to close them, He than started to drag the bodies into the woods when he heard more footsteps down the road.....

An old Dunmer dressed in expensive robes that have seen better days comes into sight.
He leans on his staff as he moves along and an amiable smile adorns his face.
He looks like the quintessential doting grandfather. The lines on his face make it clear his sunny countenance is habitual and his long, white beard is nicotine stained.

"Ho friend", the Dunmer called when he came into sight.
"I trust youre not planning any trouble."

With a twinkle in his eye he holds his staff in the air and magical light sparkles across its surface.

"I may be old, but that just means Im very good at surviving, hmm? Best not try anything funny."

Olaf had coiled his tongue from beneath his teeth around his lower lips, as the tip of hi tongue trace over his rough beard. He'd cough rather blunt yet settle only to have spoken in a soft kind Demeter, "I am Olaf Son Of Yogol The White Despair, I mean no harm expect for those whom stand in my way. Do you dare stand in my way?'

"Oh friend, you would be amazed at the things I dare. But where is the profit in battling it out between ourselves in this snowy land, hmm? No, I mean you no harm, do not worry. My name is Drenim, Jalmar Drenim. Ive been sent here from the magical college at Olenveld to do some research. It seems that the ancient dead of these Nord people have begun shuffling about their tombs. Fascinating, no? I plan to travel to Volunruud, an ancient burial tomb, for my studies.
But it is getting late and I tire. It is time to make camp, I think."

Drenim points his staff at an uprooted tree stump aside the road and it bursts into flame.

"Youre welcome to join me friend and share my bread with me."

The sun sunk beneath the mountains horizon bringing absolute darkness, revealing the stars and the two moons, Masser and Secunda. A group of Thalmor eager for blood as the Nord tried desperately to escape their clutch, brushing branches and leaves from his path, his hands splintered and stung, his eyes where bloodied from the cuts upon his face. With what little he could see he noticed a flicker of lights flame into the distance, he began turning toward it with his legs reach extending further thereafter.

"It could be a bandits camp. Whom ever it may be, they could lure the Thalmor from me" he assured himself as a wave of relief sank over him like a warm breeze. He looked over his shoulder behind to view the distance between his pursuers, dark outlines from the moons lit sky. A slight grin forms as the corner of his lips part, his irises expand as a small glint of silver pooled light emerging like a star from the darkness only to greet him with an agonizing pain to his shoulder, pushing him forward and toppling his balance.

Blood pored from his wound. Slowing him down as the Thalmor approaching with weapons held high. "Damn!, I'm loosing blood, I can't outrun them" The Nord decided, his arms reaching for his shield and sword. He'd painfully raise his shield upward with sword following after. He stopped and turned, his stance strong as to prepare for a last stand in defense.

A load ring of steel on steel echos as he deflects a strike from a Thalmor, then greeting him with a swing from his blade upon his enemy's head along with a loud battle cry. Blood drips from his sword as the Thalmor collapses to the ground, hastily he moves backward toward a camp fire to lessen as much distance to whom ever was there. A wave of weightlessness consumes him as he falls upon the ground "gaaaaah!" he cried clutching his wounded shoulder with the knuckle around the handle of his sword. With the Thalmor swiftly approaching he picks himself up and limps toward the camp fire aloft the shrubs before him.

Olaf had press his finger upon his lips, his eyes had settle back toward the east his lips begun to motion into a curl as a husky yet crude tone of voice emerged "Most thank yo...." He'd had pause at the very notion of his words as his eyes coiled its way to the left noticing a fellow nord. He motions himself Afew steps back, atlast stop in the thought of "Could it be they too have caught up to me? I must warn the others be for its to late" he quickly turned toward the Dunmer his left foot leading the right as he brush on by him only to have said "Most thank you for your offer, but a'last I must get going.." Olaf had step foward into woods.