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The Hundredth Rabbit of Wrothgar
Taarente
✭✭✭
The snow lay quiet across Wrothgar, unbroken save for the steady passage of hooves.
Taarente Stormaen, Grand Overlord, rode at an unhurried pace, her indrik Sable moving with calm assurance.
There were no war horns.
No banners.
No scouts reporting enemy movement.
Only a small rabbit beneath a frost-laden tree.
Taarente reined in.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Sable lowered her head slightly, watching.
The rabbit twitched once, unaware it had become, for reasons unclear, a matter of importance.
Taarente considered it with the same measured calm she might bring to a siege.
“I do not believe this is what they meant by conquest.”
The staff came to hand. Lightning gathered, clean, precise, utterly disproportionate.
The rabbit did not resist.
Later, when the count had reached one hundred, the snow told its own quiet story.
Taarente stood still, looking across the hillside.
“This is not a campaign,” she said at last. “It is an accounting exercise.”
They rode back without ceremony.
No songs marked their return. Only a merchant, polite and unsurprised, accepted the tally.
A small, soft toy rabbit was placed upon the counter.
Taarente regarded it for a moment, then set down the tokens she had earned.
“We came here with purpose once,” she said quietly. “I should like to do so again.”
They left the toy where it lay.
And turned their path toward something that mattered.
Taarente Stormaen, Grand Overlord, rode at an unhurried pace, her indrik Sable moving with calm assurance.
There were no war horns.
No banners.
No scouts reporting enemy movement.
Only a small rabbit beneath a frost-laden tree.
Taarente reined in.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Sable lowered her head slightly, watching.
The rabbit twitched once, unaware it had become, for reasons unclear, a matter of importance.
Taarente considered it with the same measured calm she might bring to a siege.
“I do not believe this is what they meant by conquest.”
The staff came to hand. Lightning gathered, clean, precise, utterly disproportionate.
The rabbit did not resist.
Later, when the count had reached one hundred, the snow told its own quiet story.
Taarente stood still, looking across the hillside.
“This is not a campaign,” she said at last. “It is an accounting exercise.”
They rode back without ceremony.
No songs marked their return. Only a merchant, polite and unsurprised, accepted the tally.
A small, soft toy rabbit was placed upon the counter.
Taarente regarded it for a moment, then set down the tokens she had earned.
“We came here with purpose once,” she said quietly. “I should like to do so again.”
They left the toy where it lay.
And turned their path toward something that mattered.
10
-
frogthroat✭✭✭✭✭
✭The snow was already trampled when Frogthroat the Royal Jester arrived to Wrothgar.
Shouts of "+1000" echoed throughout the forest.
Being a shrewd hunter, Frogthroat ignored them all.
A thousand lives, a thousand tome points. Such is the price paid in blood.
Trusty old thunder stick and a lance made of pure light by his side.
Stalking through the forest.
Wolves, bears, ogres, wraiths, durzogs, all fell before him.
Even giants and mammoths were no match.
A particularly large bull echatere gave a fight. The battle roared.
Horn against lance, a symphony of lightning and muscle.
In the end even mighty echatere must bow before Frogthroat.
He collected his price sombrely, verified tally, until a small glimpse caught his eye.
A dead squirrel, its tiny warm body still steaming on the blood-stained snow.
He checked his tally again. All as should plus one more.
"The squirrel... counts?" Frogthroat thought incredulously.
Madness overtook him. Indiscriminate bloodbath.
Laughter accompanied slaughter.
Beast or critter, cute or monstrous, it's all the same now.
Wolves and squirrels, bears and bunnies.
All must die. Not a heart left beating.
White snow turned red. Sounds of forest turned silence.
When the task was done, the tally counted and verified.
All that was left was a lonely figure.
Frogthroat the Royal Jester. And his laughter.6 -
Taarente✭✭✭I would just like to say that there is no way in tamriel any of my characters would demean themselves by killing livestock or non threatening wildlife. Certainly not for this.The snow lay quiet across Wrothgar, unbroken save for the steady passage of hooves.
Taarente Stormaen, Grand Overlord, rode at an unhurried pace, her indrik Sable moving with calm assurance.
There were no war horns.
No banners.
No scouts reporting enemy movement.
Only a small rabbit beneath a frost-laden tree.
Taarente reined in.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Sable lowered her head slightly, watching.
The rabbit twitched once, unaware it had become, for reasons unclear, a matter of importance.
Taarente considered it with the same measured calm she might bring to a siege.
“I do not believe this is what they meant by conquest.”
The staff came to hand. Lightning gathered, clean, precise, utterly disproportionate.
The rabbit did not resist.
Later, when the count had reached one hundred, the snow told its own quiet story.
Taarente stood still, looking across the hillside.
“This is not a campaign,” she said at last. “It is an accounting exercise.”
They rode back without ceremony.
No songs marked their return. Only a merchant, polite and unsurprised, accepted the tally.
A small, soft toy rabbit was placed upon the counter.
Taarente regarded it for a moment, then set down the tokens she had earned.
“We came here with purpose once,” she said quietly. “I should like to do so again.”
They left the toy where it lay.
And turned their path toward something that mattered.
Just like to say that Taarente or any of my characters would never reduce themselves to killing any of the ordinary non threatening wildlife in Tamriel.0