[center][img]https://images.uesp.net/thumb/6/6a/SR-place-Falkreath.jpg/800px-SR-place-Falkreath.jpg[/img]

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yA-2x0jXC0][b]Falkreath, 10th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 205[/b][/url][/center]

It was a dour morning in Falkreath. The City had just come off of a near-three-day constant rain. Great for the wildlife and the farms, not so great for anyone unfortunate enough to not have a roof over their heads during that time. And while the rains had passed, the gray clouds still filled the sky and dulled the morning sunlight. It was actually mid-morning, though one wouldn't be able to tell based on the gray sky. Within Falkreath, there was honestly not much to see as far as landmarks go. They had the Jarl's Longhouse, of course, as well as the big graveyard where the dead were buried. Falkreath just wasn't as big or impressive as the likes of Whiterun, Solitude, or Windhelm. But it did have at least [i]one[/i] interesting landmark: The Pit.

The Pit, as it's name suggested, was a pit dug out next to the guard's barracks. Its opening at the top was left open, and the only other way in or out was through a barred opening that led into the barracks. The Pit essentially served as Falkreath's jail, or at least the most prominent part of the jail. Usually it was reserved for criminals being given a special punishment, usually things like dissent against the Stormcloaks and their "High King". The doors to the barracks suddenly burst open and a man stumbled out into the open, even losing his balance and falling onto the cobblestone road. In actuality, he'd been quite literally shoved out the door by the Stormcloak-clad guards, who also dropped a backpack and a peculiar sword onto the ground next to the man, his only belongings.

"Hmph, I still think you got off easy." scoffed one of the guards, "Another stunt like the one you pulled and it'll be your head!" they disappeared back into the barracks after this, slamming the door shut behind them.

Meanwhile, the man on the ground shakily reached for the nearby sword. He briefly touched his free hand to his stomach as he felt it growl quite loudly. With a grimace, he recalled the events that led him to being arrested in the first place.

[center][b]Three Days Earlier[/b][/center]

"I told you, that's all I have!" pleaded the farmer. The guard before him was apparently there to collect the taxes for that month, and the amount given to him wasn't satisfactory. The guard grunted and gave a threatening glare at the farmer.

"The other farmers were able to pay the required amount, you have no excuse for this!" he held up the small coin purse, almost as if disgusted by how light it was, "I hope you're not lying about your earnings, you know what the the penalty will be, don't you?"

"N-no! No, I would never!" said the farmer, but the guard was already pushing past him to search his home. This wasn't uncommon. There had been those that tried to pay less taxes by hiding their true earnings, and so this sort of procedure had become a common response to such things, "You've no cause to enter my home!" said the farmer, reaching to bar the door shut, only be quite literally slapped to ground by the guard.

"You know the law! Pay the High King the taxes he is owed or pay the price!" the guard's hand was reaching for the hilt of his sword. Meanwhile, a leather-armored figure was watching from a distance, He noticed the commotion but seemed hesitant to get involved. But when he saw the guard's hand moving the toward the sword, the stranger made up his mind.

"You heard the man!" said the stranger, even grabbing the guard's shoulder and yanking them away from the farmer with surprising strength, "He said that's all he had, so just take your damn taxes and get out of here!"

"You dare interfere with Official Stormcloak work?" the guard said to the stranger, "With the laws of the High King, himself?"

The stranger gave a small glance to the frightened farmer. He almost appeared to be regretting that he stepped, "Well... I guess when you put it [i]that[/i] way," he said, moving as if he were backing off, only for his face to suddenly look alarmed, "WHAT IN OBLIVION IS [I]THAT[/I]?!" he suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, and pointing off away from the guard, who turned to look only to see nothing there. And then the guard suddenly felt the tip a sword hilt hammering him square in the forehead and he fell the ground, dazed.

The stranger said nothing, but knew he should probably make himself scarce. But there was a problem. His shout had drawn the attention of a couple other nearby guards who ran to investigate. And unfortunately the stranger was surrounded before he could make his getaway.

"Why you!" said the first guard, staggering back to his feet, "I should kill you right now!" and drew his sword from his scabbard. But the sudden appearance of a fourth guard made him stop. This one had to be higher ranked, a Lieutenant or Captain, perhaps.

"What's all this about?" they asked, glancing around at the others. After the situation had been explained, they glanced at the farmer, "If you've given your taxes, then you've no need to still be here, go about your business." to which the farmer appeared relieved as they scurried off away from the scene. Then the officer looked at the stranger, "And as for you..."

"Captain, he assaulted a Guard, I say we gut him where he stands." it was the first guard, still sore about getting knocked onto his ass. But a hand held up by the Captain silenced him immediately.

"...The Pit. No food or water. Three days."

[center][b]Current Day[/b][/center]

"Tch, damn bastards." the man muttered under his breath. Really, though, he'd brought this on himself. If he'd just shut up and kept walking then none of this would have happened. This is what happens to people who try to help others. At least, that's what the cynic in him wanted to believe. He glanced down at the sword he'd picked up, staring at it as if reading a note or letter that wasn't there. Then with a frustrated sigh he slung the weapon across his shoulder. Now having raised himself to a knee, his hand reach over to the ground where the backpack sat.

Once again, he felt his stomach growl. He was hungry, practically starving even. Three days without food would do that to a person. Unfortunately for him, those Stormcloaks had taken it upon themselves to confiscate what bit of coin the man had had when they arrested him. They claimed it was 'fines' for breaking the law, but the man knew better. They robbed him, plain and simple. Thugs in uniform is what they were, and he hoped they choked on the septims they'd stolen from him.