151 replies to this topic

[Niborino9409]

Eireen had been tasked by her mother to follow her father and help him, wether he wanted it or not. First she went to the stables. As usual he did not take a horse. He disliked them, they were clumsy and slow, and you could not fight like you could on foot. Scouts does not use horses, they use their own legs, or at least her father did. Eireen were no scout, so she used a horse, her horse. She had named her horse Aithereos, he had a white mane and tail, but the rest of his body was as black as ink. His eyes were as blue as hers. Aithereos was a special breed of horse, Eireen did not know the name of his breed, but rumour has it that he was a descentant of Shadowmere, the legendary horse of the Dark Brotherhood. But Eireen did not believe it, the only thing that mattered to her was that he were quick, healthy and strong. She put a saddle on Aithereos and mounted up. They throtted off, hoping to reach Eykthain before anything happened to him. She did not believe that he was in danger, but if her mother were worried, something weren´t right.

Since Eykthain did not ride a horse they reached him rather quickly. Eireen knew that her father did not want her to follow him but her mothers word was law. There were no use arguing, because in the end she was still right, wether you liked it or not.
She closed in on him but stayed well behind so that he wouldn´t notice her. But suddenly Eykthain disappeared off the road, he knew. Her thoughts were abrupted by a voice from behind.

---------------------------------------------------

Eykthain knew that Eireen followed him. He knew that Jordis would send her after him. He could hear Eireen slowing Aithereos down, to walk, she thought that she could outsmart him but she could not, Eykthain knew that as well as his own pocket. Suddenly, he disappeared off the path into the wilderness, sending his daughter into confusion. He had done the same thing more or less his whole adult life, disappearing only to reappear a while later, ready to strike, but this time he did not strike with violence, Eykthain used words instead.

"You should not have taken a horse Eireen. It slows you down, makes you vulnerable to an attack."
"Dad, I am not a scout."
"I know."
"And He has a name."
"No matter what name you give him he is still a horse.
Eireen knew all too well what her father thought about horses. She smiled at him.
"Your mother sent you didn´t she."
"You know that she did."
"What is she so afraid off? Why send our only daughter? I have been fine in the past, there is not much difference now."

Dismounting from Aithereos, Eireen led him beside her and said to her father:

"She thinks that you may be in danger."
"Danger? Being married to her is dangerous as it is. Don´t tell her I said that."

"My trust depends on wether I can follow you or not."

"Seems like she has taught you well." Eykthain said as they kept following the road.

Edited by Niborino9409, 12 February 2013 - 09:56 PM.

[mythicdawnmaster]

Selene exited the carriage with a rather different air about her. Gone was the feminine charm and seductive allure, instead her eyes burnt and shifter, their red glow distinct in the rapidly darkening evening. She smiled as she heard the guards approach, circling around to the other side of the carriage, and giving a 'Cut throat' remark in regards to the two guards. Another Thalmor soldier rushed forwards, clearly irritated beyond compare at his continued stationing in this place, driven mad by such a place. he brandished his elven mace, and came for the Vampiress.

 

His approach was short lived as Selene dashed forward with inhuman speed, coming to a stop dead infront of his path, her hand extended. Slowly a nimbus of dangerous crimson energy began to form in her palm, and as the Thalmor's face came into contact with her hand, it bounced off as if hitting stone. A hazy crimson mist entwined his entire head, and choking cries vibrated in his throat, he screamed as the blood literally dried up in his veins, his golden face drying to a crisp, becoming gaunt and tattered, not unlike that of a corpse. She effectively re-directed the blood flow to his eyes, said orbs swelled, and exploded, blinding the soldier in a bloody pop.

 

----------

 

"Ouch." Athelle said with a slight chuckle, as Geralt pierced through his golden skin with ease, the soft flesh tearing instantly. He smiled, and wiped the blood away with his sleeve, sealing the small puncture with a healing spell. "I had heard rumours it worked something like that. Well then, come." He smiled again, gesturing for the Guard to open the gates, allowing Geralt, and Sophie to follow him inside.

 

The Thalmor were a paranoid lot, all gazing at the newcomer with deathly gazes. "I shall tell the Lord in a moment, it's quite the travel to the top." Athelle said softly, gesturing to the tallest tower of the fort, the top floor housing Valesco's  opulent office.

 

Athelle made his way to the door, but paused, recoiling slightly "There are a number of soldiers and officers i can vouch for on mortality... Lets just say i can promise you there is a lot of flesh that is naturally warm here." His words didn't attempt at hiding anything, but neither did it make it glaringly obvious of what Athelle was referring to, giving a smile and a wink to both of them, he vanished into the tower elegantly, his strides authoritativeness and with purpose.

 

A while later, Valesco's order had been followed by all the officers in the fort, each of them bearing a disputatious scowl, wondering why on nirn they had been pulled from their duties and forced to answer to this hunter pair.

[Macman253]

Geralt smiled, "Warm flesh as nothing to do with it, Vampires are not undead by normal means... their skin is warm to the touch. The only way to openly see a Vampire is through sunlight. Sunlight reveals the creature." He said as he walked into the main courtyard, the sun retaining its authority in the sky. Its touch bearing down on everyone, he knew the vampire in question would have fed so the sun wouldn't do much good now but if they were to wait here for a day. The evidence would become clear, yet would cause many problems for them. He stopped in front of the officers as he walked up to them. Sophie standing next to Athelle, her hand drifting near her blade.

 

"My name is Geralt Caeserius Vex, I have hunted and killed countless Vampires, Werewolves, Liches and Necromancers... I am a Dhamphir... my mother was raped by a Vampire and I was born from her womb, I tell you this because I know some of you are working for the Vampire or are the Vampire himself. I tell you this now, I will find you and all that conspire with it. I will slaughter the blood-sucker and leave the rest of you to the gentle hands of your Thalmor allies... Of which I know they have some very interesting techniques in extracting information and revenge." He said calmly, looking deep into each and every Altmer's eyes as he walks along, face to face and not backing down despite nearly every one of them being a foot and a half taller then him. Geralt knew if one decided to attack him, that action would be the last thing they ever did and he wanted them to know this.

 

A slight cough came from the end of the line, and like a predator he zeroed in on him and watched. The young, raven haired High Elf was nervous. Unlike his brethren he wasn't staring at Geralt with a barely caged hate and anger but he was afraid. He knew who or where the Vampire was. Geralt turned to Athelle, he nodded towards the Officer as he approached and leaned in for a silent whisper. "The one on the end, bring him to a safe place for me to interrogate..." He said and turned to face the other Thalmor. He had no love for the Thalmor's practices, he hated them even more then he hated the Empire but his business was with the Vampire in their ranks not with their practices. He admired their strict codes and effectiveness in dealing with enemies but he did not approve of their choice in enemies.

[Zephyr Kronos]

Tenibrus smirked slightly when Selene gave the word. The two Thalmor were struggling in his icy grip. One attempted to cast a spell at him and was rewarded with immense pressure on his vulnerable throat. Slowly the Altmer's face paled, his eyes crossed and he struggled for breath, then Tenibrus released him into Aetherius. The vampire cleneched even harder and ripped upwards, pinning the body to the ground with his knee and yanking the Altmer's windpipe, esophagus and several major blood vessels. The other Altmer squirmed in fear before Tenibrus ripped his throat out as well, this time with his jagged fangs. Blood was everywhere from the unfortunate duo, but Tenibrus was just getting started.

 

He rose from the two corpses, engorged with blood, and strode to the main doors of the embassy. He flung them wide, knocking back two more agents and startling a third further back in the embassy. He raised both hands and loosed jagged blasts of lightning at the Altmer, before they could react their chest cavities exploded in electricity and blood. The third quivered for a moment before readying his own fire spell loosing a large orb of flames at Tenibrus. The vampire raised his left hand casually and deflected the spell with a minor ward, sending it off course to incinerate a table. They would need new furniture anyway. Tenibrus then drew his silver blade and strode towards the Altmer menacingly, even though the High Elf was a full foot taller than Tenibrus, he was mortified and looked puny by comparison. Tenibrus grabbed the Thalmor by the neck with lightning speed then crushed one of his knees with a swift kick. The Thalmor fell slightly and Tenibrus held him at eye level, smiling sadistically before plunging his sword into the Thalmor.

 

Tenibrus was enjoying himself and continued sweeping through the embassy, confident that Selene was doing the same and getting rid of the pathetic squaters. Since the Thalmor no longer had sway with the Empire, the post had lost most of its value to the Dominion and was staffed quite poorly. They were easy prey and excellent feeding.

[Niborino9409]

They walked and walked until Eireen got sick of it. "Where are we going dad?"
"Solitude"
"Solitude?"
"Yes."
Eireen mounted Aithereos and commanded her father to sit behind her.
"I am not riding a horse."
"Yes you are. We have traveled the whole day, and we are going to go to Solitude. It will take several days walking, but with Aithereos we will be there in no time. "Eytkhain glared at his daughter. "You cannot force me to ride him."
"I can´t? I am more like mother than you´d want dad."

That last sentence frightened Eykthain. He had better do as she said if he wanted to live to see the following day. He reluctantly mounted his daughter´s trusty steed and they were off, a lot faster this time.
 
As they were riding in full speed they saw a middle aged Wood Elf male on the road. He had black hair and a long beard with a weak hint of green in it. The beard was tied onto his head in such a way that it looked like a hat. He waved his arms as if he needed help.
 
They slowed down to see if they could help this strange individual.
 
"Please, help! I have lost my sense!"
"What?" Eireen said.
"Over there!" The man did not point in a direction. "There, can ye not see?! It is right there, taunting me. I can grasp it, but I can not put it back!" He fell to his knees, crying.
Eykthain and Eireen looked at each other and the looked at the man on the ground.
"Is he serious dad?" Eireen whispered.
"I don´t know." He whispered back.
 
The man suddenly rose. He drew the bow he had on his back and started shooting invisible arrows, for he did not have any on him. "Pcheow! Pcheow! There you go, demon! Take that, and that! Yearrrgh!" He screamed and threw himself to the right and left, dodging imaginary spells while attacking his invisible enemy.
 
Eireen, Eykthain and Aithereos stared at the strange man, who fought an eternal battle against his mind. After a while Eykthain and Eireen dismounted and sat down on a rock to watch the man from afar.
 
Suddenly, a guard from Whiterun, Riften and Markarth appeared and tried to catch the man, but he ran away screaming: "You can never catch me evil-doers! I shall eschcape, for I am The Great, fnatastical Noopdie, the greatest Artcher that ever lived! Hahaha!" While making his escape the man slipped and hit the ground. The guards literally threw themselves towards him but he managed to flop away from them, the guards bumped into each other and fell. The man continued to shoot invisible arows towards the guards while making his backpaddeling escape to freedom.
 
 
The spectators did not know what to believe. Luckily, Eireen suddenly came up with a plan!
"Dad, can I borrow your bow, an apple and an arrow?"
"Ok..."
She put the apple on the tip of the arrow and nocked it, aiming at Noopdie, she waited for the right moment and then sent it flying.
Straight into his holy parts. He sank instantly to the ground and the guards hurried to apprehend Noopdie, the second best archer that ever lived.

Edited by Niborino9409, 15 February 2013 - 02:23 PM.

[mythicdawnmaster]

Selene smiled as she tore the throat out of a guard, the blood spraying past her body, but covering her arm, it was times like those she enjoyed her nature, using her dark powers the their potential. As an archer readied his fine bow for fire, pulling back the string, Selene threw a ball of red energy from her fingers, which smacked into his, draining his health. While it didn't finish his off itself, her dagger severing his jugular did, blood spurted from the wound in a glorious shower, and the elf dropped cold to the ground, lying limp in his own blood.

 

A blade slashed across Selene's right arm, and she snarled angrily, her eyes glowing in rage, she pounced forward, landing atop the elf, and savagely bit into his throat, she ripped and tore as he gargled and choked, her animalistc nature taking over. She wiped the blood from her mouth, and dragged the still living elf by his hair, into the Embassy main building. She threw him inside, and watched as a guard came running over, wondering what on earth had just happened. His face dropped as the woman standing at the door bore an orb of pulsing red energy, it unleashed itself in a violent jet, draining his life while repairing her wounds, and bursting the very blood vessels beneath his skin. Content the guards in the room were dead, she looked around at the sorry state the place was in, cobweb ridden and tattered.

 

----------------

 

Athelle nodded slowly and had his guards draw the raven haired elf out, leading him away to the prison. He knew that the interrogation would be harsh, but the young elf would not die, and hopefully would learn better from his mistake of hiding such a secret. He was dragged off with a scared expression, but put up no fuss.

 

"If you'll follow my men to the prison, they will assist you with what you need: Do not kill him or severely wound if possible, i like interrogation to teach them a lesson, not cripple them for life."

[Macman253]

Geralt departed with Athelle, they arrived to the dungeon where the prisoner was being held. The young high-elf seemed nervous but he kept his races signature calm sense, even under Geralt's piercing gaze. Sophie approached and sat back in the corner to watch, she despised vampires and their thralls. Seeing how the Altmer reacted was enough to convince her this elf was involved.

 

Geralt calmly walked up to the raven haired altmer, "What is your name?" He asked, the nervous high elf looked around, trying to find an exit. Once he realized there was none he relented. "Velaco..." He replied, Geralt could smell the fear coming from him. It was sweet, his heart pounded heavily in his chest. He was not lying but he was certainly nervous.

 

"Why so agitated? You are not the Vampire... your heart beats too fast and your blood is warm." Geralt spoke calmly, he walked over to the table where Sophie just laid out a variety of interrogation tools, all made of silver. He lightly ran his fingers over the variety of blades, prods and other wicked tools. He stopped on a curved silver dagger and pulled it free of the leather satchel they were in. "But then again..." He said as he approached the Altmer, he quickly grabbed his wrist and turned it over to reveal a brand with a reversed star of Merida.

 

"He's a thrall, I do not know this symbol off the top of my head..." He thought as he peered at it, Vampires marked their thralls with brands on the wrist. That way if another Vampire drained him or turned him he would have to answer to the Thralls owner. Vampires used thralls to guard their coffins during the daylight and act as mediators and servants when the Vampire could not attend to their business. Geralt pressed the Thralls hand to the table and sunk the dagger into the center of his hand with a quick and clean strike, pinning it to the table.

 

The Altmer howled in pain and began to whimper, "TELL ME WHO IS YOUR MASTER!" He yelled, slightly twisting the blade. The Altmer begged incoherently as the blade twisted in his hand. When Geralt let up on the blade the Thrall regained his senses somewhat. He found the words to speak as he breathed heavily, "His name is Teclion, that is all I know..." He said, Geralt looked at the brand once more. "What clan is the brand of?" He asked, the Altmer looked at the mark, as if deciding to continue answering. He turned his head to Geralt and spoke, "The brand is our masters way of insulting Merida, he is a devotee of Mehrunes Dagon... he and his cult... The Mythic Dawn.."

 

Geralt's heart sank, he knew the Mythic Dawn was a cult of daedra worshippers that nearly destroyed Tamriel by opening the gates of Oblivion. He looked to Sophie, her face was white and a look of shock on her face. "Where are they?" He commanded, the Altmer jerked in shock at the sudden outburst. "All I know is that I get my orders from a Darkblade named Delos." He said, Geralt growled in hate and turned to Athelle. "Take me to him..." He commanded, a look of complete rage on his face. If the Mythic Dawn were truly back things were far worse then a simple Vampire hunt. His questions to himself were why with the Thalmor and why now, after nearly two hundred years.

[Macman253]

The New Gnisis Cornerclub was busy that night, the dark elf tavern was filled with music and song and the dunmer of The Grey Quarter seemed in good spirits despite the constant hassling from the local nords. The music was quick and easy, some elves danced with most conversed and drank. Malus Arveno sat in the far corner, in the darkness. His hand wrapped around a flagon of Bitter-Tea, he hated alcohol. He watched calmly his eyes watching faces and hands then darting to the exits. It was not long before the waitress, a pretty young Dunmer named Delana appeared with his food, he managed a slight smile and tossed her a gold piece in thanks for bringing it to him.

 

His plate was covered in bits of steaming Mud-Crab, freshly boiled and waiting. He drew the wicked curved chitin dagger from his belt and sank the blade into the mud-crab carapace and pried it free to reveal the succulent boiled meat inside. He ate quietly, and alone. Most the locals knew of Malus and his reputation and offered him the respect, he was Morag Tong. To a Dunmer that is a great honor, he was the Last Master before its fall after the eruption of Red Mountain and the invasion of the Argonians. After sometime and his meal was done he got up, paid and left.

 

He walked out into the bitter-chill of Windhelm, he hated this city and its ruler. Ulfric Stormcloak yet he rarely took sides in the war unless he was paid enough. The local nords often harassed the Dark Elves here but they knew to stay away from Malus, atleast some of them did. Rolff Stone-Fist was one such Nord, his brother was a high-ranking Stormcloak and he used his brothers station to get away with drunken behavior and harassing the Dark Elves and Argonians. On one such night as this Rolff was on the prowl with his friend and cohort Angrenor, they walked past Malus either not noticing him or not wishing to deal with him. Many years ago Rolff tried bullying Malus and Malus shattered his nose, since that day they have had bad-blood and Rolff has always stared daggers into Malus' back.

 

Malus turned away and took a leisurely stroll through the Grey Quarter, at night this place was fairly peaceful and he often took late walks. The guards never patrol the Grey Quarter unless they were looking for bribes or to stir trouble but that was rarely nowadays. It was at the height of the moon that the calm of the Grey Quarter was shattered with an ear piercing scream, Malus whirled around. Daggers in his hands and he bolted to its source, it came from near the Cornerclub. His heart pounded as another scream filled the air, it was that of a woman. He dashed through the empty streets, bounded up stairways and hopped over fences and barriers like a cat running from a hound. He moved with expert grace and precision from his many years as an assassin and ashlander.

 

He arrived at the Cornerclub to see a grisly scene, the young barmaid laid on the ground. Her clothing ripped clean from her naked body and a large Nordic dagger sticking from her chest. Blood was everywhere and it appears she had been assaulted, Malus knelt down beside her to check her pulse and she was gone. "Azura watch over you..." He said softly, he stood with the dagger in his hand. A large fist etched into the pommel. The symbol of the Stone-Fist clan, Malus growled in rage. Rolff had gone too far this time, he looked around in the freshly fallen snow and found their tracks. Angrenor and Rolff had departed for home, Malus dug his toes into the snow and pursued. Drawing the red scarf over his face as he did so.

[mythicdawnmaster]

Athelle stood with an expressionless mask throughout the whole exchange, Geralt's interrogation methods far more physical than normal Thalmor protocol. They usually electrocuted their prisoners to submission, but sometimes such methods had to be adapted, and in this case it seemed to be the best way to go about it, whatever way one looked at the situation, it would be bloody. He looked over to Sophie, noting she watched with no problems, her hatred for Vampires must have ran strong. he have her a smile and a slight wink, before focusing on the matter at hand.

 

Athelle's ears rung with the mention of the Mythic Dawn- They were as much of an enemy to the Thalmor as they were to the Empire- more so considering it was the Aldmeri Dominion who claimed to have stopped the Oblivion crisis, and never had they expected anything bad to come of such a... Twisting of events. If the dawn had sleeper agents within Thalmor ranks, then perhaps they wanted revenge? Or simply found the ranks of the Thalmor an easy place to hide, due to the reclusive and secluded nature of the organization.

 

He gave a pained look to Velaco, wincing at the fact he was a Vampires Thrall- It must have been a fairly recent slavery, as the last time Athelle had... seen the Altmer up close, he did not have such a brand on his wrist, infact, he had no marks at all, no fang marks, signs of indoctrination. So the Vampire must have been close. 

 

His face bore a deep frown, his two perfect eyebrows dipping into a scowl, at the mention of Delos... Athelle had always noticed something odd about him, he was far grimmer than his fellows, and seldom partook in celebration, or fun of any kind for that matter, he was quiet and solitary, often meeting up with "Friends" at night. Athelle had never thought anything of it, he was a fair and kind man, he didn't want to keep constant surveillance over his best men, otherwise how could they trust him? But now he realized maybe a bit of watching now and then wouldn't have gone unnwanted.

 

Nodding to Geralt, he turned "Don't try to interrogate Delos, he is a Darkblade, so attempting to pull any authority over his eyes is impossible... Well, yours at-least, he will listen to me whether he wishes to or not. Just be careful, if he is a Member of this cult, then he is a dangerous man with a far more deadly blade." Athelle lead them out of the prisons, and into the tower, one  wing in particular belonged to the Darkblades, it was luxuriously furnished and filled with their every need. Most of the elite were in the mess-hall, enjoying a meal before their afternoon assignment, and as usual, only Delos was absent. Most likely in his room. The men (and women) stood to attention when Athelle entered, but his allowed them to sit down almost immediately.

 

"Have you seen Delos?" he asked one of them, smiling widely. 

 

"Indeed, he's in his room writing a letter or something, and preparing for this afternoon or something." 

 

"Thank you." Athelle winked, and gestured for the Vampire hunters to follow him to the Darkblade's room.

 

--------------------

 

"As i've said before Heinrich, I'm writing a book. I need to visit as many places as i can to get a real feel of the Nordic people, because back in Daggerfall, there weren't many of your kind, none, if I can remember correctly, apart from old Hols, but he was always in jail for being drunk." Anna said in a mildly irritated tone, rolling her eyes in a blink. She had been walking a while, and the bottom of her robes were splattered with the odd mud stain. Her heeled boots clicked gently on the stone path as they walked through the wilderness, keeping to the roads. Anna's steps were gentle, soft, and light, making relatively little noise, apart from the distinct click, and the tap of her wooden staff.... But quiet could not describe the heavily armoured thud that echoed from behind her. 

 

Traveling with her was a large, huge man, a brute even by Nordic standards. His hair was braided back, and his beard just starting to grow, it, like his hair was golden blonde. His eyes were a piercing light blue, of a colour only the Nords seemed able to attain, unlike the soft browny-green Anna's eyes possessed. Heinrich thudded along in steel-plated armour, glimmering in the sunlight, his boots crashing with the ground every broad step he took. Anna had hired him to accompany her in the wilderness, Mostly because he knew the area a lot better than she did, and he offered a very reasonable sum for his companionship. He'd saved her hide from bandit attacks and Highwaymen before the threat had even made itself apparent, and had never took much notice to the strange patterns, and symbol of her faith around ehr neck- he wasn't the most clever man, but in Skyrim, knowledge of the Daedra was associated with the Mages... who weren't thought of with much love. He was, however, interested in the young Breton's reasons for travelling around Skyrim: She didn't seem like the adventuring type, but he knew as well as anyone else, looks can be deceiving.

 

"I know, i know, I'm just curious. It's nice to know your companion, even if you are just hired help." Heinrich said in his deep, gruff voice. "Never told me what you do anyway, you just a book writer then?" He asked.

 

Anna laughed a little, dropping back to walk beside him. "Well, mostly yeah. I've been up and down the provinces to various places, Elsweyr, Hammerfall, but I know Cyrodiil and High Rock much better than any other land. Most people have heard of me down in the Imperial city, and back up in my hometown, I've written a number of books about the various races, and factions around. Did a book on Breton history that really set me up as an author, and I've just worked it out from there. I find it best to write about things I have come into contact, hence my trip around Skyrim." Her face lit up with a smile.

 

Heinrich returned the smile and replied "You wrote that book about them Blades didn't 'ya? Read that once when I was in Bruma... Bit's i could understand anyway." Heinrich bellowed with a Hoarse laugh.

 

Anna couldn't help but laugh at Heinrich's laugh, and so the pair of them giggled merrily as they strode down the path, the weather soon turning snowy as they entered Eastmarch. Anna had started off in Riften, but found nothing of Nordic culture there, other than the degenerating condition of it's rich residents, and it's suffering citizens. One thing that it did teach her however, was that Nords could do business, and quite well at that.

 

"Heinrich, i forgot the name of that City again.. Ysgrammor was it?" Anna asked, pulling her hood up to keep the icy wind out of her face.

 

Heinrich chuckled a little, and replied "No, no. Ysgrammor was the King who built the city, not the City's name. It's called Windhelm."

 

"Ah, now i remember, home of that Palace of Kings, and the Stormcloak rebellion. It has a Grey Quarter doesn't it? for the Dark Elf refugees?"

 

"Aye lass, that it does... horrible place, them Stormcloaks treat the Elves with such cruelty, well, they do anyone who isn't human, and the nastiest will bully you for simply not being a Nord. Dangerous place now Ulfric announced himself High King." Heinrich replied with a frown.

 

Anna took mental note, the words of her companion sinking into her mind, firmly there for good. It was one of the gifts bore by her lord, Hermaeus Mora. She wondered why there was such racism in Skyrim, indeed the elves and the Nords fought many battles in the past, but in recent years things had cooled down. Apparently not in Windhelm. She thought.

 

But before Anna could reply, Heinrich pushed her to the ground, and cried "Arrow Volley! Get down!!" He lifted his shield up to protect himself, and Anna lay on the ground with a ward out in front of her, the arrows bouncing off. She jumped to her feet when the Bandits advanced quickly upon them, her staff at the ready. The nearest bandit, she sprayed a bout of Poison at his face, the acidic stream burning his skin, and killing him fairly quickly.

 

Heinrich cleaved with his war axe viscously at a number of them, tearing flesh and severing bone with heavy, brutal strokes. Five of them were cut down with little effort, but soon a few more joined the fray, trying to combat the incredibly strong man they were faced with. Again, the majority fell, until only two of them remained. The first was a sneaky wood elf, who remained unseen by Heinrich before it was too late, he circled around the Nord, and jabbed his blade up through the back of his rib-cage, piercing his furiously beating heart. Heinrich gasped, falling to his knees.

 

"Heinrich!" Anna lamented, her staff swinging, a large, green tentacle extending from it's head, the slimly green limb wrapped around the wood elf's throat, and pulled tightly. The little elf choked as his face reddened, gargling noises and flapping hands encompassed his movements. Anna didn't let go until the elf was dead, flicking the tentacle back within her staff, and spinning on the spot, the wooden weapon smacking the last remaining Bandit violently in the face, snapping his nose. Anna finished him off with a Thunderbolt,. and ran over to Heinrich.

 

Her delicate, long-nailed hands cradled his head as she bent her knees beneath her, and put Heinrich's head on her lap. she furiously felt around her satchel for her healing potions, quickly grasping the neck of a bottle and pulling it out, tearing out the cork, and tipping the mixture down Heinrich's throat. It did nothing much, only numbed his pain.

 

Anna gave one last look to the small grave she had just filled in on the side of the road, looking down in sadness at her lost companion. She took his shield and used it as a makeshift headstone, writing his names in large letters across it. With a final sigh, she turned to face the wind, heading down to Windhelm.

 

The Guards gave Anna a strange look as she walked up the main gates of the city, her eyes darting around at the buildings around her. As she walked, a Burly-looking man with blood on his hands barged his way past, followed by his companion. The heavy push he gave the breton sent her falling to knees, and she sighed in surprise as she hit the floor, her delicate hands catching her before her face hit.

[AnotherAverageName]

Mirabelle pushed open the door of Kilkreath Temple, ever so slightly, a tiny fissure in the door let in a beam of light which hit her directly in the eye. She pushed open the ancient door of temple to see a bright but snowy day. A few  splashes of cold, fluffy snow hit her across her rosy cheeks as she closed the door behind her. She put on her white sabre-cat fur travel coat and cautiously made her way towards solitude, trying not to slip up on the perilous snow. She made her way past the Thalmor Embassy;she looked onto the stark building feeling nothing but anger. She sniggered and proceeded walking  to the equally dull city of Solitude. She was going there to collect supplies as she was running very low and was sick of dining on stale bread and
watered down mead. She also was hoping to get her hands on a bottle of spiced wine there, after that she planned on visiting the East Empire Company to collect her vintage Breton cheese she'd told her husband about. She couldn’t help but remember that her father also exported cheese and wondered if the cheese she had ordered was her father’s own-brand cheese.

As she approached Solitude the snow shimmering snow she’d recently been put through had disappeared, leaving only vibrant green grass and an aged, cobblestone path leading toward the entrance. It was the warmest part of Skyrim
she’d experienced in months, so warm that she took off her coat, which was almost saturated
by the water from the melted snow. She took a moment to bask in the beaming sun.

 

She walked up to the carriage peddler, a poor Nord who Mirabelle personally hired to make deliveries to Kilkreath temple. His eyes were restless but taut and he was clearly tired but Mirabelle paid the man very well and he so he respected her, Mirabelle had always thought the only reason they got along was
because of the large amount she paid him. “What ya wan’t this time? Not more of
that smelly cheese I hope” He said satirically, leaning on his wooden carriage.

“Yes.” She said, putting on a cheesy smile. “And it’s not just “smelly cheese” it is just...delicious. You should try some. It’s the best cheese out there, I swear.” She said, jovially. The peddler stayed silent for a moment, it could clearly be seen that he was reluctant, “I don’t think I sh-“ He said, before being interrupted. “Fine then, it’s your loss. I’ll see you in a bit, be ready to hoard quite a lot of supplies.” She said, with a small giggle.

 

She walked up to the main entrance where her husband stood, arms folded. He appeared to have a large, leather backpack on his back, it looked heavy. “Comon darling this damn bag is killing me.”
“Sorry dear, slipped up a few times on the way.” She said, taking a deep breath, the high path leading to the gate was rather steep. The imperial laughed slightly. “ Heh, thats OK darling, it’s very slippery. Now, let’s see...where is  the list...”

He said, rummaging his pockets looking for the shopping list, he pulled out a rough piece of paper from his pocket. “Ah, so...mead..wine...bread...beef...venison..honey..potatoes” He mumbled quietly. “ How in oblivion am I supposed to carry all of this?!”

Mirabelle looked over at his backpack and smiled. Mirabelle only held a small basket for her cheese. “ Well, were not gonna fit it all in one go, we’ll have to go back to the carriage a couple of times.“Heh, being a pack-mule is great.” He said, facetiously.“ Oh, it won’t be that bad, besides...I made sure they got your favourite wine.” She said.
“ Oh, thankyou. You know me very well.”
“ Yeah I do, you lazy drunkard.” She said, playfully.
“Hehe. Anyway, let’s get on with the shopping before it gets dark.” He replied.

The couple entered the town, hand in hand and started scanning for good quality products at some of the stalls.

She walked leisurely around the town, browsing as if she had all the

time in the world. Her metallic boots made loud clicking noises as she walked
on the stone floor. She reached the meat stall, where an able fisherman and hunter
stood. The man put on a sappy smile as Mirabelle approached, she stood and
observed the display for a while. The man leant over his stall, making a large
creek as he did so. " Could I interest you in any of my goods!? Freshly
caught this morning! Fresh from the docks! Best meat in Skyrim! Great quality! Well preser-"
The over-enthusiastic man clearly wasn't going to stop talking and was
evidently desperate for money. "Yes!" She shouted, slightly annoyed.
"Yes, yes I would..."

"Okay then....what would you like?!" He said, still shouting.
"I'm sorry, I have a headache...could you keep your voice down a

bit please." She said, trying not to offend the man. She of course had no headache but this man had an extremely irritating voice.

"Sorry." He said, gingerly.
" Yes, it's alright, your great at your job, know how to get

peoples...attention. Anyway...could I have...salmon, beef and some..."

She couldn't remember everything from the list.

"Marcurio!" She

shouted.

"Yes, darling?"
"List please." She said, shortly.
She took a quick look at the list before looking back up at the

salesman. "Venison, how could I have forgotten!?" She laughed to
herself. The man gave her the meat and Marcurio stored it away in his backpack.

" We still need...wine...mead......bread....tomatoes....carrots..apples

and uhm....sweetrolls." She said, lying about the sweetrolls.

"Right then so- wait....sweetrolls I don't remember any

sweetrolls." He said, trying to grab at the shopping list. Mirabelle closed
the list tightly in her hands and held it to her chest. Marcurio laughed "
I suppose we have to treat ourselves occasionally."

"That we do." She said, smiling at him.
"Anyway...moving on."
The couple managed to purchase virtually everything on the list,

including her sweetrolls and her aged breton cheese. Marcurio's backpack was
practically bursting with food while Mirabelle's small basket only held three bottles
of wine and some sweetrolls. By the time they had finished shopping it was
already quite late, they considered if they should stay over in the Winking
Sceever.

Edited by AnotherAverageName, 15 February 2013 - 10:57 PM.