The fat breton sat down on the log, tankard in hand and began his story "Did I tell you about the time I met… Bjorn Arturo? Or as most of you know him… the phantom of daggerfall" The other men around the campfire shook their heads and took small sips of mead The fat man began talking again: "For those who do not know of this man. I do not blame you, He is called 'phantom' for a reason" the breton took a large swig of mead and slammed the tankard on a barrel next to him "He was born in skyrim, a man of 'solitude' they say he grew to 5 evening stars before he killed his father and boarded a cart headed to high rock" The other men leaned towards the fire, invested in the man's story "He stopped at a town called, 'penhope' in wayrest, lived there for a few years under lady Gondywyr's protection, and joined the fighters guild at the mere age of 16 evening stars" Another man chipped in from the other side of the fire "Thats not what I heard" The men all turned to this voice He was a short and skinny boy, maybe in his mid adolescence he continued in a timid voice, "I… I heard he stopped in sentinel, lived in 'cudadkat' until the age of 18 evening stars, joined the fighters guild there" All of the men turned back to the fat breton, he was pointing his finger at the young boy, chuckling "That! Is why I love that i met him, noone knows who or what he is! There are so many stories and yet, practically noone knows of him!" One man shouted from outside the circle "Hurry up to when you met him!" The fat breton mumbled under his breath and continued his story "Anyway, so I was in daggerfall one hearthfire, in a town called 'gothwick' we'd stayed there for a few days, this was after I, unknowingly killed his brother 'vargr arturo' A weak boy, frankly… he didn't deserve to live, weak men in these times deserve to die" The breton snatched his tankard up from the barrel and took an exaggerated swig of mead and shook his tankard "Anyway, I look out of the tavern window and see these… figures ride into town, dressed in green cloaks with golden trims, one of them goes forward while the others stay behind. I hear the single shadow shout 'You killed my brother! You have sealed your fate! Arkay will take you!' Of course i did not know it was me he was looking for" The breton began to sweat, his tankard shaking in his hand "Of course i went on drinking until all I remember is the next morning! It was that day that I met him…" The men were on the edge of their seats waiting for the rest of the story "It was midday, I was with my men, sharpening our swords ready for departure, when I see the cloak approaching us" The breton places the tankard on the barrel next to him "He grabs me by my brigandine, pulls me up and throws me into a tree nearby" The men around the campfire are eager to hear more "I draw my axe and we start to fight, he looks exhausted already because his shield is resting on the floor and his axe is flopping in his hand" The breton chuckles and continues his story "The fight was short, I beat him and spared him, sent him running back where he came from" The men around the campfire began to talk amongst themselves and the breton picked his tankard up
A few minutes pass and the breton dropped his tankard. All the men looked at him. He began to visibly sweat, eyes fixed on the darkness. The men turned to what he was looking at. A black horse with a man riding it. An elegant green cloak with golden trim, tied around a blonde mans neck, he has three paint marks going down his face. "Storra!" The cloak shouted The man dismounted his horse and shed his cloak, revealing an axe, drawn. The man traveled between two of the men in the circle and kicked the breton in the chest, sending him falling backwards off of the log. The men were frozen, too drunk to fight. The man grabbed the breton my the neck and pulled him close, "Say my name!" The breton shook and squealed slightly "B…bjorn…" the breton said in a raspy voice Bjorn rested his axe on the man's neck "My full name!" The breton hesitated and blurted out "B…Bjorn Arturo" Bjorn threw the breton against a tree, the tree shook and the breton slid down. The breton reached for his sword, in a sheathe on his side, bjorn snatched the sword from the breton and slammed it into his hand. The breton screamed and bjorn pulled him up again, "So I spare you in gothwick, let you live, even after killing my brother! Banish you to 'sentinel with the promise that if you came back I'd slit your throat" The breton stayed silent "And yet here I find you, sitting in a forest outside of horwell" The breton went to talk but Bjorn cut him off "Shut your fucking mouth you piece of weasel shit!" Bjorn spat on the man and threw him down again, the breton grabbed his bleeding hand and whimpered.
Bjorn put his axe away and pulled a knife from a sheathe on his leg, the breton began to crawl but bjorn pulled him back and lifted him again, putting the knife to his throat "The world won't miss you and arkay will sigh when you beg at his feet" Bjorn slowly dug the knife into the bretons neck and threw him to the floor Bjorn stood up straight and looked around at the campsite "Burn it" he whispered Green cloaks on black horses sped out of the darkness, shooting fire from their hands at the tents and throwing torches on the small wooden huts. Bjorn retrieved his knife from the bretons throat and mounted his horse again and began to ride into the darkness
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© Post "The Phantom Of Daggerfall" for game The Elder Scrolls.
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