Grass rustled underneath his boots, Oberyn running lightly through the fields. He dodged trees here and there, yet he loved the land he had come to call home. Cyrodiil had a beauty about it, something he couldn't quite feel in even his homeland, Morrowind. Ahead was a deer, standing there looking out. Oberyn raised his spear, leaned forward, and threw it. The spear sailed, a small banner on it fluttered in the wind as it soared through the air to hit its mark. It impaled the deer, with a satisfying crunch of bones and tearing of flesh.
Slowing himself, Oberyn finally stopped at his fresh kill. The deer was a buck, decent sized creature. He spent the rest of the day skinning it for the hide and then cutting slabs of meat off for eating. He even took the horns, because they would be used to make knife handles. It took his whole day but at the end, he continued on moving to Whitmore Keep, the castle of some pompous noble that wanted to hire mercenaries. "Perfect job for me." Oberyn thought to himself, having strayed back to the idea of working for the noble.
The next day, he arrived outside the castle, having completely avoided the nearby town.
