18+ Skyrim: Fractured (In Character Thread)

Vinx held out his hand to the khajiit, who glared at him before reluctantly taking it. She said something to him, too quiet for Sabine to hear, then released his hand and turned away.
At the same time, the Redguard Cyrik had been talking to Rochefort. He flicked his hand backward at the watchtower, and the stones at the top of the tower collapsed inwards. Sabine thought she could hear a cry behind the rumbling as the stones hit the ground, but didn't care enough to investigate.

She pushed herself up off the piece of debris, walking on the grass, away from the brutes and the hand-picked party who were slightly behind. She knew she ought to at least talk to each of them, but she wasn't really in the mood right now. On top of that, the khajiit didn't look in the mood either, and Sabine doubted she'd ever get along with Froki, even after just a short introduction. Vinx seemed almost too friendly, and Cyrik was clearly not to be trifled with. The best solution, for now, was to stay distant and very wary of her new travelling companions.

Although Vinx had noticed the Khajiit's anti social glares (which made him imagine himself gutted and hanging from a tree) he had promptly ignored them and instead viewed it as an interesting challenge. He drawn like moth to a flame when it came to conflict. And so it came to be that he wasn't even put off by her hostile reaction, but encouraged by it. "True enough. But I get the feeling I could trust you as far as I could throw ya', unlike some of the rest. And I could throw ya' pretty far..."

She began to walk away as he brought his hand up to his chin, where he became pensive in thought, as if trying to ascertain exactly how far he could throw her. She was certainly small, but surprisingly strong and durable if her hand was any indication. He could respect that.

Meanwhile the pirate had thought up a comeback to the employer's disdain for him, and had demonstrated his power by burning a large section of the upper tower, causing it to collapse. The man then looked as if he was expecting something else to happen, but whatever it was, it never did. Vinx began thinking about it some more, looking between the tower and the miffed redguard, before laughing. He didn't know why, it just felt like one of those moments where something great and ironic had happened, and Vinx usually had a sixth sense for such moments. He then looked at the group that was walking away, and the employer. Vinx's mind was attempting to put something together. He had this feeling many times over the years, where unseen gears were turning. But, as usual, he could not discern what was in motion, and so contented himself to strap himself in for the ride. He liked surprises anyways, it wouldn't be any fun if he figured it all out. So he strolled after the rest of the group, watching their backs, sword drawn and resting comfortably on his shoulder as he hummed a jovial tune he'd heard from a kind man who had put up a very respectable fight along the roads. Something about an elf having to die. He didn't remember it all, so he made up most of it to fill in the blanks.

Sneaking around in the shadows was something that many attempted but few managed to perfect, It took spending decades in the shadows to be able to disappear completely. To hide oneself in the shadows, to cloak your body in darkness so perfectly that someone wouldn't be able to see you even if you stared them in the eye. Now that is something only a vampire could accomplish, being partly undead sure had its benefits. Yet somewhere between being a blood sucking parasite and being hunted every time you show your face, it just lost its glamour. Yet despite all that, there were still people willing to accept the terms if it could make them immortal, but giving up your soul is one hell of a price to pay.

Severianus stalked the group as they begin to move, the display of magic on the Orc hadn't really phased him. When you occasionally kill people for food, then watching a murder just doesn't phase you as it used to. But to be fair, that couldn't be blamed on being a vampire. When you kill any man or woman the Emperor points his finger to, you've already lost that innocence long before you realise it. One was for the good of the Empire and the other was for personal gain, or so you're told. Killing a man just because he sees things from a different perspective from you doesn't make it right, it just makes it lot easier.

The sun was on its way down from the heavens, it was going to be a long trip but it seemed like it would be set once the group neared the fort. Revealing yourself so much later would most likely await a less then hospitable response, appearing out of darkness is also a trick to many people employ. Appearing out of the Oblivion under a clear blue sky, that gave across a message, specially if you were wearing heavy set armour on top of that. Severianus picked his moment carefully, and once each member had his or her eyes turned he appeared infront of the man leading the group. Nearly forcing Alexandre to bump into his armour as he turned his head back to its original position. ''Attempting to kill Imperial soldiers and trying to ransack a fort, that won't be a short prison sentence.'' To make himself more convincing he moved his hand to his sword, giving off the impression that he was about to call out to other soldiers whom would appear out of thin air to arrest the group. He normally wouldn't fool around with someone who was genuinly seeking to hurt Imperial soldiers, yet this bunch of deserters were Bretons whom joined their brothers in their quest for an independent kingdom in the Reach.

Sevarius stepped down from the small ledge he was standing on, bringing him to around eye level with the man, albeit having a couple inches on him. This gave him the oppertunity to look down on him, an easy trick to intimidation for anyone that was even the slightest bit taller then average. Sevarius stood dressed in full Imperial armour, the scar running over his eye showing his experience in battle, proving that the helmet on his head wasn't just a political favour for a man with no credentials. ''All the more reason for us not to get caught.'' He just invited himself to the party, and he wasn't expected to be asked to leave. ''When you're standing amongst the corpses of your enemies, ask them if honour matters. The silence is your answer.'' He gave the impression that he may not be an actual legionnaire, or perhaps he was. Whatever the reason of what seemed to be his desertion might be, infiltrating a fort of Imperials required one that looked the part.

The group of rag tag mercenaries didn't quite seem up to the task, but appearances could be deceiving. ''My name is Severianus Celsus Octavius, commander of the fifth legion, loyal servant to the emperor, Titus Mede II. Father to a murdered daughter, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance against the Stormcloaks, in this life or the next.'' He paused briefly, finally stepping down from his so called preformance. ''Or so it says on the documentation I carry, the reasons as to why you've been granted the ability to purchase my services are not important. The fact that i'm willing to kill in your name is. That is all you need to know.'' The air around him was strange, he seemed old despite looking young. His Imperial armour giving of the impression that it was even more ancient then some of the ruins dotting the landscape.

“Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?” Alexandre had to talk a breath so he didn't sound too annoyed with the newcomer who seemed to appear out of nowhere in the middle of the day in an open plain. Alexandre pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me assuage your worries. We aren’t going to attempt to kill Imperial soldiers, if there are any we will kill them, though as my information has told me it is held by the Forsworn as of right now.”

Alexandre shrugged off the weird feeling this new man gave him. He was dressed like a grave robber who couldn’t afford new armor so he took what he could. But he did not wear ancient Nordic armor. No, Alexandre realized. Classic imperial likely before the Oblivion Crisis. History wasn’t a primary pleasure but it was a guilty one for Alexandre. But alas Alexandre had to admit he would be useful, if not as a tool or underling, then as a shield for Forsworn arrows. There was so much work to be done. He turned back to the pirate.

“Now, this may come as a surprise to you. But we will need the fort to appear operational. By appear I mean we will be leaving a few men to man said fort,” Alexandre smiled and tipped his hat as he added. “After we pick it clean… of course.”

Alexandre looked at his small group that he had collected. He already marked who he would keep with him. Now it was time to figure out how to use the extra resources. With this new man, whom Alexandre was already wondering how to orchestrate his demise. To be honest he had done so for every member of this party, just for fun of course. Unfortunately he was already behind his scheduling, the fort would be needed to be taken tonight or tomorrow morning, lest he run into more issues. Alexandre growled at how annoying planning could be. One cog falls out of place and the entire plan is reduced to excrement. And as if on cue, he could have sworn he sensed something move along the mountainside.

He stopped and with small bit of focus he summoned his familiar out. The ethereal dog barked and Alexandre pointed out towards the mountains. If he remembered right, they were moving by Bloated Man’s Grotto. He could feel them out among the trees, and as his dog barked he counted. Ten barks, ten men. It was a small group of scouts, Alexandre cursed. Imperials are pushing out into the neutral territory.

“My squad. Weapons out, boys and girls! Follow the Hound!” Alexandre announced proudly as his own left hand just rested at the sword on his hip. He snapped his fingers and his familiar took towards the rocks and the plains to the right. “My squad will handle this! The rest of you, keep moving along the path, Fort Sungrad is nestled along the mountains at the dragon mound is where we will make camp, try not to get yourselves killed. And don't waste to much energy. Subtly is all, and we are on a tight schedule."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sabine spotted a new man talking to Rochefort; tall, muscular and pale. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, and looked almost to try to be intimidating the flamboyant leader. She couldn't find it in herself to care, so continued on, ignoring the new man.

That is, until Rochefort summoned a familiar, eyes narrowed. He pointed, and the ethereal dog vanished into the woods where he pointed. There was a small pause, and then Rochefort cursed to himself.
"My squad. Weapons out, boys and girls! Follow the Hound!" He turned to the large group of brutish Nords that were walking ahead of the hand-picked squad. "My squad will handle this! The rest of you, keep moving along the path, Fort Sungrad is nestled along the mountains at the dragon mound is where we will make camp, try not to get yourselves killed. And don't waste to much energy. Subtly is all, and we are on a tight schedule."

Sabine drew her saber, following the path of the dog Rochefort had sent into the woods, slowly and warily. She stopped when she heard something; quiet voices, muffled by both the distance and the trees. Approaching the source of the noise, she bent her knees slightly, stepping lightly and making sure not to snap any twigs.

The source of the voices was a small Imperial patrol, roughly nine or ten men at a quick guess. She couldn't see any reason why they were a threat, and though she bore no love for the Imperials, she had no wish to kill any and save the Stormcloaks the trouble. She decided to simply watch for now, to gauge the combat styles of her new colleagues, and perhaps a little of their personalities; what she needed to watch out for, and what weaknesses she could exploit if it came to it.

For the next fifteen minutes Geinhaal walked on in silence; making sure to linger near the rear of the group so all of her comrades were kept under her close surveillance. She couldn't help but feel a little unsettled by the whole affair. Even though they were planning to assault a fortress crawling with hostile occupants (a feat even she was apprehensive about) she would've preferred to have gone in ahead of everyone else and thus have the chance to use her stealth skills to their advantage, but due to the size of the group she doubted they would get within thirty feet of the walls before they were spotted. Like a warrior was reassured by the heavy weight of a sword in his hands the Khajiit felt most at home lurking in the shadows, invisible and non-existent to everyone around her, so to be robbed of this privilege left her feeling slightly vulnerable. However, as long as she wasn't burdened by the obligation to aid her fellow companions and they at least tried to remain inconspicuous, she felt she would be okay.

The Khajiit was jolted from her thoughts by a sudden flash of light just outside of her peripheral vision and she stopped in her tracks, eyes squinted almost to slits as she scanned the nearby cliffs. For about ten seconds she observed the mountainside unblinkingly until her sharp feline eyesight picked out another quick glimmer between the trees, like sun rays reflecting off a shiny surface, and she realised that it was the glint of metal armour in the pale morning light. She cursed inwardly, her ears flattening against her furred hood. At a guess they were probably bandits out on a raid or a Stormcloak patrol that had gotten sidetracked, although she could think of a lot worse.

It seemed that the Khajiit wasn't the only one to notice the disturbance, as a second later Rochefort halted the proceedings and, after a moment's concentration, conjured a Familiar onto the road in front of them. The spectral canine let out a series of loud barks before taking off into the tundra, closely followed by the rest of the superfluous nobodies the dandy had largely ignored. He knew who he could count on.
“My squad. Weapons out, boys and girls! Follow the Hound!” He announced, and whilst the other members of the team began to stealthily make their way into the woods Geinhaal continued to dawdle further back, as if anxious to intercept the adversary. In truth, it was because it had been a long, long time since she had last taken orders from someone, and doing it again only reminded her of why she hated it so damn much. Personally, she blamed it on her lousy childhood.

Trying hard to swallow her pride, the Khajiit pulled her scarf over her muzzle to obscure the lightly-coloured fur beneath and followed in the wake of her comrades, her left hand hovering near the shurikens across her chest. As she crept silently through the foliage with the deftness only a Khajiit could accomplish, Geinhaal began to detect the sound of hushed voices emanating from a couple of yards ahead and she quickly ducked into some bushes near Sabine, her other hand resting on the hilt of the dagger strapped to her calf. Through the thick tangle of leaves she could easily make out the distinctive style of the armour they wore and the shape of the weaponry, but the Khajiit displayed no reaction to the presence of Imperials in the otherwise neutral Hold. Even though she had worked for the Legion before and had even been trained by a former captain in the Imperial City, there was no love lost between them now. To her, they may as well be common bandits.

So for the time being she remained placid as she waited for Rochefort to give the attack signal, though every muscle in her body was tensed up in preparation for a fight. It was only a small scouting party of about ten troops, but nevertheless it didn't pay to underestimate the opponent.

At their employer's command two of the others rushed after the hound, the Khajiit and the Half Elf. Cyrik followed behind at a brisk jog rather than dashing as they had, and was disappointed that both had chosen to hide, and either prepare or observe rather than starting the fight. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached the treeline and slid behind one. Peeking out to see who was about to recieve an early cremation, he cursed silently and muttered one word,
"Imperials."

Spitting on the ground in front of him, he cast a stone flesh spell and stepped out of cover, approaching them with all the swagger and arrogance he could manage. The imperials, startled and on edge, scrambled for their weapons as he approached.

He drew his scimitar with his right hand and played flames across the blade with his left before announcing, "My name is Cyrik, and each of you should know how much trouble you're in based on that alone. I sincerely hope you put up some fight before I slaughter you like the dogs you are but I'd like to know something....." Pausing and freezing his movements for a moments to build the tension, he flashed a smirk and asked, "After the escape, how high is the bounty?"

The imperials seemed to snap out of their stupor and charged him, to which he laughed and started the fight with a fireball from into the main body and a grand sweep of a blow to seperate the nearest scout's head from his body.

Vinx's demeanor didn't change much, although the newcomer did make his tune change a bit. Man certainly looked impressive, and Vinx made a side note that he'd like to spar with him later. His manner of carrying himself spoke of confidence, at home in armor and carrying a weapon, and at home among other combatants. His manner of speaking also did him credit, and Vinx respected the way he had casually walked up and joined the group, just like that, and been accepted so quickly.

Vinx's demeanor didn't change at all, however, as enemies were spotted, orders were shouted, and conjured hound rushed in on the scent. He remained casual, sword still over his shoulder, still whistling merry tunes. The Khajiiti and the mixed woman charged in first... only to hide somewhere and wait. The pirate got right in the thick of it, and let off some antagonistic comments to boot. That was always fun, and Vinx regretted not being the first one to crack open the banter.

As it was, he had picked up his pace in order to not get left out, and came out of the foliage from around the Khajiiti's position, though very much by accident, still whistling and in general making as much noise as possible as he blundered through the woods, not particularly caring how much noise he made.

As he stepped out into the open and found himself face to face with several of them, he let his tune come to a riveting climax, slowly bringing his sword and feet to a ready position. He readied himself to recieve as many would come at him, as he put on a half cocked smile, and let out a billowing roar, which gave pause to the closer weak ones, and sent them in a different direction. It naturally attracted the attention of everyone else, and the next batch looked a lot more promising. He placed his left hand behind his back, apparently deciding to only use one hand for this.

The first man to make it to him wasn't much. He opened with a slash, but had lazy footwork and put too much effort into the swing, and his telegraphing was simply awful. Vinx, despite his bulk, sidestepped it with easy grace, knocking the man flat while he was off balance with a pommel bash to the nose, effectively breaking his face.

From there, an all out melee ensued.

Despite her tense anticipation of an imminent attack, the Khajiit was startled when a mass of steel suddenly filled her vision as a large, sword-wielding figure came crashing through the foliage mere feet from her hiding spot, clanking and whistling and generally making as much noise as possible, and all she could do was watch nonplussed as it bore down upon the unsuspecting Imperials; a blur of metal, ferocity and unearthed plant life.
It was Vinx.
Gritting her teeth, Geinhaal unsheathed a dagger from her calf and followed the trail of trampled undergrowth that the Nord had left in his wake, beginning to feel a little annoyed at her comrade's antics. She would have liked to have got a sneaky shot in with her crossbow, but due to the work of her associates there was currently too much risk of friendly fire, especially now that it seemed the Redguard was in on the action as well. So much for a stealthy approach.

Bursting from the vegetation like an arrow from a bow, Geinhaal darted up to the nearest Imperial and promptly jammed the blade into the centre of his back, severing his spine. The soldier gasped loudly before dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes, inevitably attracting the attention of one of his friends who emitted an almost feral roar and rushed towards her with his sword raised. In one fluid motion, the Khajiit tore two shurikens from her bandoleer and hurled them at the oncoming soldier. The first star chinked harmlessly off his breastplate, and although there was a thin spray of blood when the second missile grazed his cheek he barely slowed pace.
She could sense that this one would be difficult.

A low growl rising in her throat, Geinhaal drew her second dagger just in time to deflect a savage strike from his sword, the crashing blow juddering her arm. The Imperial swung his blade again and Geinhaal dodged back a couple of steps, before countering with a swift flying kick at his chest which succeeded in knocking him backwards. Panting, she retreated to where Vinx was busy holding off his own attackers with only one hand and she leaned over to him confidentially:
"Ever heard of subtlety, you cocky bastard?"
A split-second later the Imperial lunged at her again with several lumbering swipes but each time she darted just out of harm's way, seeming to goad him on. With a furious gleam in his eyes the trooper howled and swung his sword wildly at her neck, his anger making him reckless, and this time Geinhaal capitalized on his negligence.

Ducking beneath his clumsy swipe, the Khajiit performed a graceful sideways somersault whilst slicing at the exposed skin behind his knee, severing his hamstring. The Imperial cried out in agony and went down on one leg, only for his scream to turn into a strangled gurgle as Geinhaal's crude Orcish blade plunged into the side of his neck up to the hilt. She twisted it a few times, watching his eyes roll back in his skull and a thin line of blood well at the corner of his mouth, trickling down his chin, before she wrenched it free with a nasty squelch.
For a brief moment she looked down at his twitching body. He was strong and well-trained, but probably lacked actual battle experience and had ultimately paid the price for allowing his own emotions to take over. Evidently she had overestimated him.

The death of Imperials was not something that was ment to be taken lightly, they were innocents that only served to protect the Empire and its customs. Offering your services as a soldier of fortune never ment giving up your ideals, atleast not for those that had any ideals. A man is nothing if he doesn't have anything to strive for or believe in, and the believes of Severianus included the Empire. Killing a simple scouting party that ment the group no harm was nothing but barbaric, and only served to aid the Stormcloaks in their stubborn attempt at an independent nation that would only serve to aid the Aldmeri Dominion.

Severianus was about to intervene when he noticed how easily the first few soldiers went down, they acted clumsy and inexperienced. The supposed Imperials did not use Imperial battle tactics but chose to go in swinging, to the untrained eye they would seem like new recruits. These were no new recruits though, a keen observer would have noticed that one of the men that had fallen in battle had opted to use a two handed weapon, a warhammer. No Imperial used those, not even the Nords in Imperial service. A sword and shield with proper training would always beat a foe carrying a two handed weapon, these so called Imperials were Stormcloaks in disguise. Probably up to no good, they were most likely inspecting the area around Whiterun for a future Stormcloak assault. It was no secret the jarl wanted to stay neutral, but his loyality to the empire was no secret either, when the time was right he would have sided against the Stormcloaks.

Now that his moral dilemma had been resolved, Severianus opted to charge into the fray. Three of the Stormcloaks in disguise were already laying dead in the field, five of the others were taking a stand and engaging the group that had attacked them, one of the more nervous and most likely new recruits chose to flee the scene after the roar, the man even dropped his weapon so he was able to run faster. He wasn't going to Sovngarde any time soon, and his friends would curse him to Oblivion. One of the men stood out though, the tenth and last man. He too chose to run, but his hands were bound. This was no Stormcloak, this was an actual Imperial, probably a captured messenger. Possibly with a message to Whiterun or one of the forts in the province, he could not be allowed to fall. Atleast not in the eyes of Severianus.

Severianus arrived just in time to see the fresh blood of one of the attackers spurt into the air as the female Khajiit twisted her blade into his neck, the very sight of it made him feel the hunger deep inside of him and lust to sink his teeth into the bleeding corpse. He resisted though, he would feed in the dark when they wouldn't notice. The Khajiit seemed to focused to much on her prey to be able spot the archer that had taken aim at her, nor did she notice the arrow that was about to fly through the air in an attempt to puncture her skin and stop her heart from beating. Rather then hit its target, the arrow hit the ancient shield of Severianus which easily deflected the blow and in turn saved the Khajiit. He wasn't expecting a thank you though, and he didn't bother to look back at her as he moved onto the actual field of battle.

The first man that charged at him was young, much like the others that were currently being slaughtered. He probably fell for tales of glory and manipulation by those around him, sweet talked into glory and the after life in Sovngarde if he was willing to kill and draw blood in Ulfric's name. The boy simply charged, as if he was wielding a warhammer or greatsword instead of the Imperial sword in his hand. Severianus held his ground, his feet turning slightly and sinking into the sand as his shield was raised. Once the boy was close enough, Severianus lunged forward and bashed the shield against the boy's chest, his ribs cracking for everyone to hear as he flew through the air and landed on his back. No cursing, no further resistance, just the sound of crying filled the air as the young boy sobbed from the excruciating pain. He wouldn't be able to fight anymore, not now atleast. Imperials showed Mercy, even to those who wronged them. Severianus opted to kick the Imperial blade away from the boy before stepping over him, he wasn't going to take his life. He didn't like killing childern, that included boys barely old enough to call themselves an adult. Unfortunately the next soldier coming for him was a woman, another one of his weaknesses.

She was smarter then the boy before her, she had kept her two handed weapon and attempted to swing it at him from a distance, only to hit his shield repeatedly. After her third blow he pretended to stagger, his stagger resulted in the woman raising her weapon higher then before and charge. Rather then bashing her in the chest like with the boy before her, Severianus chose to bash the shield against her hands to force the weapon flying. The woman cried out as the weapon fell to the ground, her fingers either having been broken or heavily bruised from the strong Imperial shield that hit them. Severianus stepped forward, raising his foot and kicking her in the stomach, sending her backwards and off feet, only to land on her back. ''Stay down and you will live to tell the tale, I don't want to kill you, neither does the Empire. I can only hope you Nords eventually come to your senses, for your own sake.'' Showing mercy wasn't a sign of weakness, it only earned you respect, and one day you might be lucky enough to be shown the same.

With two more of the patrol down, the remaining members opted to surrender to those whom engaged them by calling out they would yield. He had shown mercy but he could not be sure that any of the comrades he was with would do the same. Severianus lorded over the two fallen before him though, standing there as if he was protecting them from further harm. ''Do not kill the fleeing Imperial, he has valuable information for the war effort. If he falls to any of your weapons then I will take revenge for him.'' His loyality to the Empire might be an issue for his employer, but if he was going to plan on raiding Imperial shipments or any of the sort then he would have a problem. Loyality or not, if an Imperial were to attack Severianus he would defend himself, but most likely by showing mercy unless forced to otherwise. He had no problem killing and executing low lifes though, but not soldiers.

Sabine noticed the last man in the progression of Imperials, surprised to see his hands bound together. He looked like a Cyrodiilic native, though. A spy, possibly? Or so she thought, until the new man in blindingly obvious Imperial armour charged in. Combined with the rest of the group's attack, the patrol was shocked into battle, and their choice of weapons were almost certainly NOT Imperial. Warhammers, axes, and not a shield in sight. These men were certainly not Imperial soldiers.

With that, Sabine charged forward, standing up straight and engaging with one of the impostors. She feinted toward the man's leg, drawing his weapon downwards before she swiftly brought her saber back up to slash across his upper arm, causing him to scream and drop his weapon. The scream didn't last long; within seconds, Sabine raised her saber and thrust it through the impostor's throat, finishing him off with a grim gurgle, blood bubbling up from the wound as she withdrew.

At this point, the rest of the soldiers were engaged with other members of her company, so Sabine relaxed, wiping her blade on the dead impostor's armour before sheathing it, putting a hand on her hip and watching the remainder of the fight play out.

The familiar howled and took off after the running imperial. It caught up and bit the man’s ankle, taking him to the ground. The man looked frightfully towards the spectral wolf. The wolf sat in from of the man, looked at him, panting like any domesticated animal. The imperial sputtered a question towards the familiar. “Who… What? Where is your summoner?”

The wolf gestured with his head back towards the skirmish. The Imperial cursed his luck and sighed. He looked to the familiar and nodded and he forced himself up favoring his leg that the familiar didn’t bite. Limping back through the trees, hoping that his luck was turning about for the better.

Well, Alexandre thought with a smile. At least they could follow orders. Truth be told he found the hardest part about hiring skilled help, is the fact that they usually have some overinflated self-importance. He thought about who he was working with, gauging how his plans would twist about the nature of his squad, for they had to be the keystone, holding up the delicate nature of his plans. All he said was that he would get his employer a foothold, and now he was being called to deliver. He strode confidently though the trees towards the sound of battle. He heard calls of imposter Imperials and sneering at the thought. Ulfric is getting bold then, Rochefort thought peeking through the trees to see the combat join up. That was not good for business, might have to deal with him after the fort.

The Breton took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His eye socket itching, it put him in a dour mood. He had to smile at the skill of his selected individuals. Everything was progressing well, the other hired muscle setting up for their “liberation.” Looking about the battle field he was impressed, at least they were worth the investment of time. He watched the movements of his memebers, each member moving how he assumed they would. This was child’s play, Rochefort thought with a smile. This means we can be even more ambitious.

“Well now, such deception!” Alexandre announced dramatically. He spread his hands out and channeling his energy he slammed his hands together. He could feel the magical energy taking shape as he pulled his arms apart, a bow as tall as him appeared in his hands. He was happy with how his magical experiments had been progressing. He drew his left hand back, summoning an ethereal arrow.

“Pttttth!” He released his arrow and watched as it went in nearly a straight line. Slamming into one of the runner’s back, Alexandre smiled as the man turned into a rag doll and impaled to a tree. “We need a prisoner! Try not to damage the goods to much!”

What transpired next happened very quickly. The other group members jumped in, for the most part dominating this party of Imperials. The Khajiiti with a crossbow had even dived into the fray, dropping two of the soldiers. The second one seemed to give her trouble, and Vinx considered stepping in, only for her to finish him off and shout about subtlety. He merely responded with a grin, and as he moved to meet some new enemies, he noticed an arrow coming for the Khajiiti.

He considered getting in the way, only for the newest addition of the group to block it on his shield. Realizing that he would have to move fast if he was going to have any more fun, he charged into the fray, grabbing the attention of two of the remaining combatants.

"Yer not running, eh? Hope you know how to use those hunks of metal!"

They moved to meet his charge in unison, seeking to surround him from either side. Still using only one arm, he suddenly picked up speed, catching one of them off guard as he rammed him with his right shoulder, sending the man flying and rolling backwards. They had spaced themselves too far apart for the other to effectively punish Vinx for his recklessness, and the target had been too slow to react for Vinx's sudden burst of speed and sheer audacity.

The one still on his feet then closed the distance with a wild slash, which Vinx parried and forced aside as he crowded the man, taking the fight to a wrestle as he grabbed the man by the collar of his armor, pushed him away, and then pulled him back in for a headbutt that most of those who witnessed it could probably feel every bit as much as the ones actually receiving the pain.

The man dropped to the ground, understandably dazed and dizzy, losing his sword at some point from the trauma, as Vinx (apparently more hard headed then he was originally given credit for) tossed his sword away and let out a boisterous laugh as he jumped into the air and body slammed the poor fellow.

He was still laughing as he got his feet, looking at the Khajiiti and beginning to say, "Did you see that?!" with the enthusiasm of a child before his eyes widened. A projectile flew over his head, brushing his hair and whispering to the crown of his head as it went by, striking the man he rammed earlier and apparently forgotten about. Vinx looked behind him, seeing the man going down, then looked at the Khajiiti again and laughed. "That was a brilliant shot! Simply brilliant! Hahahaha!"

He then got to his feet, brushed himself off, and retrieved his sword. He approached the Khajiiti as she seemed to be aiming another ranged attack for the last remaining combatant, a huge grin on his face. Just as she was about to release her attack, Vinx heartily slapped her on on the back, with force that to him would be considered gentle, a massive red bruise in the center of his forehead. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she had been about to make an attack, and even more oblivious to the fact that he had just caused her to miss. "Such skill! I see I made a very wise decision in asking you to watch meh back!" He was close to tears with laughter now.

Cyrik was rather astonished at how quickly his "comrades" had joined the fray, and equally astonished at how quickly the soldiers had fallen. Only one combatant was left standing, though two were on the ground but still alive, and another was limping back to them.

This fellow in the ancient armor annoyed him. Allowing his foes to live. It was a mistake that could get them all killed if he did it in the future. Seeing the Khajiit intending to slay the standing opponent, he summoned flames and was about to roast the two on the ground when he heard Alexandre.

“We need a prisoner! Try not to damage the goods to much!”

A prisoner, great, as if the one he had limping back with his dog wasn't enough. Even worse, the great oaf had thrown the Khajiit's aim off, leaving the last man still alive! He took two steps to his right to line up the man on the ground and the standing man, then let his frustration manifest in a line of particularly red flames. Watching both of them burn at an unnatural pace he laughed.

"Alright, there's one left! You have your prisoner!"

Still annoyed, he looked straight at the newcomer to their little group, a smile on his face. Running through all of the ways this could play out, or those he could think of, he silently dared the living museum piece to speak up and burned the blood off of his blade.

Severianus stood and watched the Nord in complete and utter confusion, the man seemed to be brain damaged or atleast suffering from a similar condition, brain rot perhaps. Never in the many days that he had walked the earth, had he seen another person behave in such a childish and rather barbaric fashion. If not suffering from any form of head trauma, the Nordic fellow must surely be worshipping the Prince of Madness, Sheogorath. If anything he seemed to make a good contender for the very title, atleast from the behaviour he had revealed to Severianus so far.

After having made the mental note of the unstableness and the deranged state of mind of the Nord, he turned his eyes back to the two prisoners on the ground below him. Unfortunately he looked down at them to late to be able to stop the fire that washed over the injured boy and burned him to a crisp.

The sheer brutality and mercilessness of Cyrik's actions made intervention necessary. The little mutt had gotten out of line and needed to be reminded that if he was going to pull any more of those tricks that he would meet a very unfortunate and painful end. Severianus tilted his head, his neck cracking lightly as he turned to face the Redguard. ''When you have a dog that isn't behaving right and say, makes the inside of your home his toilet.'' He paused briefly, sheathing his weapon and hanging his shield from his side as he approached the half-breed before him. ''And that's what you are, a little mutt, a half-breed. A dirty little dog that thinks that he's suddenly the Alpha of the group, I'll have to put you back in your place.'' Now standing before the man, he looked down upon him and stared into his eyes, the spartan helmet covering his face only adding more to the act of intimidation. Severianus opted to lift the man up by the collar of his robes, rather fitting for a dog. His vampiric strength serving to make that task all the more easy, yet to someone without the knowledge of his condition it would only serve as a reminder of how strong he appeared to be.

With the man firmly in his grip and lifted up into the air he began to walk over to the burned corpse of the young boy, the skin was molten and black, the stench had started to sink in as the wind only served to increase the amount of smoke coming from him. ''When your pet steps out of line like that, it's only right to push his nose into the mess he made so he won't do it again.'' A grin spread over his face as he pulled down the hood of the Redguard, exposing his head fully to the elements and to anyone that was watching. Severianus lifted him up a little higher before nearly slamming the man's face and body into the smoldering mess that was left of the boy. Effectively desecrating his corpse and covering the Redguard into the smelling and burning mess of the molten remains of boy's body.

He kept his foot on the Redguard's back for several seconds before allowing him to come up for air and crawl away from the corpse. ''I hope you've learned your lesson, may the burns on your face serve as a reminder of your incompentence for the rest of your pathetic life.'' With his point made he moved back to the woman on the ground, standing by her once more as he looked at the limping Imperial that was coming back to camp. He wasn't pleased but the man was alive, and he would make sure that the messenger would be allowed to leave. He kept his eyes on the Redguard though, hoping that he would be stupid enough to attack him, that was exactly the excuse he needed to break some bones and tear the flesh from his skull. He could get another humiliation if he wished, perhaps he would even end up as a meal when nightfall came along. That would all depend on his next choice of action.

This was enthralling to watch; Sabine was more entertained by this than she had been in months. Vinx was in hysterics, finding the whole battle hilarious for some reason, the Khajiit beside him with the scowl still on her face. The most interesting thing, however, was the Redguard, Cyrik, immolating a pair of soldiers before glaring at the new Imperial man, who charged forward and picked him up like a bitch does a pup. Sabine was shocked by this; Cyrik wasn't a small man, and so the Imperial must have inhuman strength.

''When your pet steps out of line like that, it's only right to push his nose into the mess he made so he won't do it again.'' The Imperial smirked, pulling Cyrik's hood down before shoving his face into the burnt, smouldering flesh of the soldiers, holding him down with his foot. He eventually let Cyrik up, wandering over to the woman he'd been beside earlier and glaring angrily at the Redguard. Sabine shook her head, not paying attention past that point. She headed for Rochefort, sheathing her saber.
"What's next, then?"

“Well,” Alexandre sighed at the display. I don’t need somebody thinking they are in charge, Alexandre thought. Or do I. He giggled to himself, might as well play the game if the end is the same. Alexandre looked at his familiar as it walked up to his feet. It wagged its tail before dissipating into a soft blue haze, so subtle you would wonder if you saw it at all in the first place. “Oh there you are boy. I see you caught us something.”

“Gather some of those false Imperial’s armor. We may need those.” Alexandre bowed to the Imperial and offered him a potion. The ragged Imperial thanked Alexandre and drank it quickly, coughing as he finished it. Alexandre gestured for everyone to follow him, this detour had gone on long enough. Alexandre gave the Imperial another potion. “For later,” He said with a smile as he and the Imperial talked.

They made it back to the camp and no one batted an eye at the new Imperial, it seemed like they were picking up new guys at every turn. The Imperial drank the potion Alexandre and seemed to lurch a little. With a motion of his hand, a few of the others came and grabbed him. Taking him away from the camp site, Alexandre whispered something into the closest man's ear and handed him a small coin purse. As soon as the transaction was done Alexandre's chilling eye that soon drooped into his standard faux-bored stare.

“Listen up, here is the plan,” Alexandre announced throwing his arms out wide. “There is a back door to the fort. So you men will be up on the road. Try to stay safe, you will have torches as to catch the enemies’ eye. We will sneak in the back, so try not to catch any unnecessary arrows. Soon as the arrows seem to slow down, that means we are probably on the battlements. That is when you will take to the doors. “If we are lucky, the fort will be hours before the dawn and there won’t be too much of a mess.”

Geinhaal had barely had time to compose herself when her sensitive Khajiiti hearing detected a nearly imperceptible sound behind her: the low creak of an arrow being notched, and her hand instinctively reached for the crossbow on her back. However, before she had time to avoid the incoming projectile a large, armour-clad body suddenly materialized between the two of them, shield raised, and with a loud thwock the arrow struck the barrier and skittered off into the undergrowth, vanishing amongst the leaves. Had it not been impeded mid-flight there was no doubt that it would have struck her, and she had enough on her plate dealing with bothersome co-workers without the inconvenience of a thirty inch rod of steel becoming lodged in her spinal column.

Although her face remained as impassive as always, the Khajiit turned to give her colleague a quick nod of thanks only to see him hurtling off into the the midst of the battle, the opposition practically scattering in his path, and she immediately recognized him as the enigmatic Imperial who had joined the group more recently than the others. Because he had disappeared too fast for her to get a proper look at his face she instead studied his equipment, hoping to gain some clarity.
Unfortunately, the ancient armour that encased his huge form just raised more questions than it answered.
Judging by the design it was definitely the work of Imperial blacksmiths, but not like any she'd ever seen before in her life, and she knew Legion get-up when she saw it.
Very odd, but whoever he was it seemed that she owed him one.

Turning her attention away from her comrade, Geinhaal instead began scanning the cliffs for the bastard who had attempted to snipe her, her eyes narrowed against the darkness of the woods. Thanks to her keen feline vision it didn't take long and she quickly spotted him crouched on a rocky outcrop about fifty yards away, trying desperately to conceal himself amongst the crags, and she slowly pulled her crossbow from its sling. Realizing he had been spotted, the Nord, who could barely be over the age of twenty, panicked and began to fumble about desperately with his bow; the Imperial arrow slipping clumsily in his hand as he attempted in vain to line up his next shot. It appeared that the archers were also inexperienced which was a mistake she considered inexcusable, even by Stormcloak standards.

However, unlike the Nord's ungainly attempt at sharpshooting her own aim didn't waver in the slightest; even when she felt the ground noticeably shake as Vinx body slammed an unlucky scout three feet into the ground beside her. He stood back up with an exuberant smile plastered across his face, apparently unaware of a second adversary that had appeared behind him.
"Did you see that?!"
Ignoring him, Geinhaal spun around with her crossbow still raised and squeezed the trigger when its risers lined up with the scout's unprotected head. The bolt rushed over Vinx's shoulder, almost scalping him in the process, and thudded right between the scout's eyes which both instantly went lifeless. He continued to stumble forwards a couple of steps before keeling over face first, the impact driving the bolt through the back of his skull.

Vinx turned to her with an incredulous expression on his face.
"That was a brilliant shot! Simply brilliant!" He guffawed, seemingly awe-struck at her accuracy, even though she wasn't particularly bothered if the bolt had accidentally hit him as well.
With that interference out of the way (or at least one of them) Geinhaal once again turned her attention to her previous target, who in the meantime had ditched his bow and was attempting to scramble away up the cliffs. Unfortunately for him, due to the weight of his armour and the fact that his genetics severely crippled him in the agility department, he wasn't getting anywhere fast.

But just as she was pulling the trigger to end his miserable existence, the Khajiit grunted as what felt like the flat side of a battleaxe slammed into her back, causing to to stumble forward just as the bolt was released from the flight groove. The projectile careered into the sky, missing the Nord by miles, and she could only watch helplessly as he clambered the last few feet and finally disappeared from view over the crest of the cliff. The moment he vanished from her sight marked the first time in months that she had missed a target, and it didn't help her mood when she heard a cheerful voice pipe up behind her.
Surprise surprise, it was Vinx.

"Such skill! I see I made a very wise decision in asking you to watch meh back!"

That did it. With an ugly scowl etched upon her blood-splattered face she rounded furiously on the oaf who had caused her to bungle the shot, ears flattened against her hood.
"You'd better watch your own worthless back, Nord, or else I'll be putting a bolt in it," she snarled venomously, prodding him hard in the chest. "Now leave me alone."
Without waiting for a response the Khajiit returned her crossbow to its sling, shot one last hate-filled glare at Vinx and stalked off after the others, tail swishing arrogantly.