As I proceeded, a curious scene caught my eye. At the side of the road I noticed an Orismer, standing over the carcasses of two apparently freshly slain sabre-tooths. I had encountered these beasts myself before, and knew that it was no easy feat in slaying them. I hailed the orc, glad to see a fellow traveller on the road.
We talked for a while, and he recounted to me his story of how he had become too old to take wives or chieftainship of his tribe, and had left the safety of his stronghold to fall honourably in battle rather than pass into nothingness, crippled by old age. Touched by his tale, I offered to battle him in an attempt to give him the death he sought. He told me I had not to do so, and asked me if I was sure. I replied with a solemn nod.
He drew his blade and stepped forward. With one motion I pulled out my own sword and knocked his head off, then watched it roll down the mountain into a river.
Not very honourable... whoops.



i love skyrim