A deathly silence seemed to reign across the vast expanses of the Great Forest, as if the very essence of life and vibrancy that any forest should have was brutally ripped from it. Only on the Black Road could there be seen any signs of life, if one could call the solemn bunch there lively. Only the crackle of bonfires could be heard, placed just on the side of the road to give the traveling group the cover of the trees. A truly motley assortment they were, all manner of folk clad in various arms and armor. Bows, battle axes, longswords, shield bearers, spears; leather, plate, chainmail. It couldn’t be mistaken what kind of people these were. Sellswords, butchers who offered their bloody work for coin. And this particular bunch fought under the banner of the Crimson Reavers, one of the many mercenary forces that now operated in Imperial lands. Once the peace might have been kept by the Legions, local guards, or even the Fighters Guild. But the Legions couldn’t be bothered by mundane issues such as the plight of the peasantry, local guards were too weak to combat any significant danger, and the Guild was too depleted. So such work fell to the likes of the Reavers, who got the job done. And if some villages were pillaged, a few rapes occurred… Well, that could just be written off as collateral damage. Not like such groups were known for being honorable. Amidst the sea of barbarians, cutthroats and beleaguered warriors sat one that stuck out like a sore thumb. While most of these folk were caked in dirt and grime, their arms and armor thick rust and filth, he was well groomed, his dark tan skin washed, his short, dark brown hair and beard well-groomed and trimmed. His steel armor was of exquisite quality, the finest of steel, etched with glowing blue runes that run across the trim of it.
The Breton warrior sat against a tree, slumped up against it as he let his eyes rest, dark heavy bags set beneath them. Sleep was something that rarely graced him these days. Instead he simply lay with his eyes closed for hours, praying to the Divines he would be graced with some kind of rest. That had yet to happen, so he simply lay there, waiting for the order to move once more.
“
Well, well. My blue eyed lover doze off again?” He groaned as he realized the voice was directed at him, knowing all too well who that Valenwood accent belonged to.
“
Remind me when the last time I dozed off was again? Sounds to fantastical to be true.” His voice was dry, but there was slight bit of humor in it as a half irritated, half amused smile formed on his weary face.
He suddenly felt a familiar weight fall into his lap, but still kept his eyes closed, much to the chagrin of the she-elf. “
I seem to recall you were fairly well rested after my last visit.” She purred into his ear, stroking his cheek with her soft hand. “
Now come on, show me those eyes of yours Rol.”
He let out a sigh of resignation, and with great effort opened his eyes, which were a curiosity to behold. They were blue as the Bosmer said, but what was strange was that they glowed an icy blue color. “As I recall you didn’t let me rest much.”
The light glow of his eyes shone across her fair skin. She was quite a bit shorter than him, and lithe like many of her kind. Her blood red hair was shaved on one side and brushed over it, with Bosmeri war paint emblazoned across her face. “And as I recall, you didn’t complain about that.” She teased with her fierce smile before planting her lips against his. He enjoyed spending his time with Grove. She was just a fun girl to be around. Didn’t ask any questions, didn’t try to get attached or any bull like that. They simply had their fun, and that was it. It was simpler that way. Safer.
“
If you two are quite done, we have ourselves an infestation to clear out!” This voice was much different than Grove’s lyrical voice. It was harsh and gravely, the kind of voice that got a Legion off its ass, and he knew it well. It came from a giant of a man, a brutish Redguard, clad head to toe in what looked to be Orsimer armor, with a giant claymore that stood nearly as tall as him to top it off. Reaver, of the Crimson Reavers.
Being clever most certainly isn’t his specialty. Rolard cracked a smile as he push Grove off of him, giving him a pout as she stood up.
It seemed a lot had happened since he rested his eyes. The camp had been largely torn down and the majority of the force was nearly set to move out. It was an impressive group, numbering at least fifty, more than enough to clear out a bunch of Goblins. At least that’s what Reaver kept saying.
“
Any of the forward scouts get back from Fort Ash yet then? We know how many of the beasts we’re dealing with.” Rolard inquired as he readied his own equipment, attaching a beautiful scabbard to his hip, inlaid with swirling designs of High Rock.
“
For Oblivions sake Rol! We don’t need any forward scouts for this plopse mission, its Goblins for Divines sakes! We simply walk in, bloody em up a bit, and off into the forest they run, and the Black Road is open once more, and then we’ll bleed Count Vulga of every Septim he’s got for the trouble!” Reavers voice left no room for argument, which was truly unfortunate as this plan was absolute plopse. If there was anything he had learned in his time at war, it was to never underestimate a green skin. Orsimer or Goblin, they could prove to be far more cunning then their brutish nature let on. But Reaver would hear none of it, so he just have a curt nod and started the final stretch to Fort Ash.
(Two hours later)
Fort Ash had grown a great deal since its original creation. Where once it stood mostly as a singular tower, it had been turned into a much larger complex back during the Great War, serving as a key defensive point for Imperial forces. Even after the war it had been maintained by Emperor Mede, but under the new regime, most forts were quickly abandoned as the funds were sent to other, more shady areas. Still, it was quite a formidable bastion, and it was teeming with Goblins.
Rolard and his fellow Reavers had stuck to the tree line on their approach, and were now on the very edge of it, merely a few hundred feet away from the Goblin horde. It was an impressive force, at least eighty of the beasts milling about the general area and walls.
“
A paltry force, we’ll have them cut down within the hour.” Rolard turned and gave an irritated look to the man who had spoken. An Imperial, Tiberius. He was twin brother to Romulus, both of whom wore partial plate armor, and wielded a thick iron shield and spear. They were good warriors, he had fought alongside a few times before, but they were cocky.
“
I wouldn’t be so sure about that. We have no idea how many more could be inside. How many could be surrounding us in the forest. We should have scouted the bloody area before waltzing in.” Rolards face was contorted into an irritated grimace as he assessed the current situation. If wasn’t piss poor and his family near starvation, he’d walk away right now and leave these idiots to an early grave. But that unfortunately was the case, so he stayed, and prayed to Stendarr and Julianos for guidance.
Reaver raised a hand that called for silence and everyone to prepare. With great care, Rolard unsheathed his sword, which would turn out to be even more beautiful than the scabbard. It was white ebony, a rare substance that made for deadly weaponry and excellent armor. Multiple Bretonic runes were etched into its face, the pommel was lined with sapphire gems.
A nearby Orsimer berserker snorted as he looked at the blade, giving Rolard a look of contempt. “
I still don’t know where a street rat like you managed to get such equipment.” He
Rolard didn’t dignify his remark with a response, besides spitting in his general direction. The orc rose and looked as if he were about to try and cleave him in two, when Reavers hand fell. The signal was given. Time to make war. With a thunderous war cry the Crimson Reavers charged out from the tree line. The dozen archers they had stayed towards the back and began picking their marks, arrows and bolts whirring overhead, striking down a good score of Goblin filth. They were able to let loose one final volley before the main force crashed into the disorganized Goblin rabble outside the walls. Screeches and guttural roars were heard as the Goblin nest was stirred, and more began to pour out from the gate and over the walls. Rolard charged in beside Grove, the twins, and the berserker, easily parrying the nearest Goblins strike before lashing out with a strike of his own, slitting the Goblins throat with relative ease as he strode past it and moved onto the next. Grove had here twin dark steel daggers out and was twisting and weaving her way through the Goblin lines, eviscerating the graceless creatures with well-placed strikes that would incapacitate and slow the beasts, while the twins fought side by side, no blow able to break through their shield wall.
It was at this time that the first of the Goblin Berserkers entered the fray, leaping off of the walls with a mighty war cry, and landing atop a five Reavers who had moved to far ahead of the main force. They were mauled and ripped apart by the ferocious beasts, leaving bloody piles of gore in their wake. Reaver swore loudly as a part of his force was so swiftly eliminated. They were killing a lot more than the Goblins were, but at this rate they’d be worn down by attrition. Reaver pointed towards Rolards group. “All of you, take down those berserkers now. 25 septims per head!” The man always knew how to motivate his people. Rolard slammed an iron fist into the Goblin he was currently fighting, feeling the bones in its face crack from the pressure, before driving his white ebon blade through its stomach.
“
Come on kiddos, time for a real challenge!” Rolard shouted eagerly as he led the charge. He collided with two berserkers, blocking their near endless stream of strikes. They moved with unnatural speed, like they had hit a crate of Skooma each before coming out to do battle. The Berseker Lugdul followed quickly after him, slamming into the nearest berserker. The beast stabbed into his arm multiple times, but Lugdul hardly seemed fazed as he cleanly snapped its neck and moved on to the next with unhindered enthusiasm. The rest had engaged as well by now, and a truly bloody melee had begun.
It took a great deal of effort and concentration to parry each blow from the tireless Goblin berserkers, and even then he was unable to block every one. While his armor absorbed the blows well, he was still bleeding from multiple points across his body, many cuts raking his left leg and right arm. Finally the berserker on his right made a mistake, stumbling back after Rolard blocked his latest blow. Not wanting to lose the opportunity, Rolard ducked beneath the berserker on his left, throwing it off its feet as it went too far into its swing before coming back up in a quick spin, cleanly decapitating the right one, its head flying off with a spectacular spurt of gore flying from its neck. This left him open to one on the ground though, who was able to get a vicious slice in on his left leg, causing Rolard to stumble to the ground in agony. With a vicious roar he twisted around and drove his blade deep into the creature’s stomach, his glowing eyes staring straight at the beasts own as he watched the life slowly drain away from it. It took a few minutes before the rest had finished off their own adversary. Grove has able to sever the tendons in the creatures arms, allowing her to easily dispatch him, although she received a nasty blow to the head in the process, a different kind of red mixing into her war paint now. The brothers had finally skewered the three they faced, not to worse for wear thanks to their shielding of each other. Lugdul however was covered in lacerations and cuts, bleeding quite a bit, but the warrior seemed unfazed, clearly in the throes of his battle rage which was thankfully still focused on the Goblins.
At the sight of some of their best warriors being cut down, the rest of the Goblin force began to falter, fleeing back to the keep while the Reavers pursued, cutting them down every step of the way. Finally the battle turned in their favor. Reaver led the charge, crying out for them to finish the job. “
On me Reavers, let’s clean up this filth!” He cut down three of the fleeing Goblins with one sweep of his claymore before moving towards the gate. The battle had turned to their favor just in time. Ten were dead, and well over a dozen others were to injured to fight on. Only the weak morale of the Goblins granted them victory.
Or so they thought.
Right when Reaver got the main gate, a horrendous roar was heard from atop it, drowning out the sounds of the raging battle itself so great was its fury. Everyone stopped in their tracks to see what kind of creature could emit such a noise, and the sight made even Rolards blood chill in fear.
On top of the gatehouse stood a goblin that was as tall as Lugdul, a whopping 7 feet at least, its skin a dark shade of blue. It was thick with muscles that were thickly scarred from countless battles it had likely been in, and was dressed head to toe in the bones of various enemies. Man, Mer, beast. Everything it seemed. In its hand it wielded a massive mace, made of dark iron that looked to be well used. It was Gnarltooth, Warlord of the Blood Fists clan. This was a lot worse than even Rolard could have imagined.
It hopped off the gate house and smashed into the ground before Reaver, who nearly stumbled to the ground from the impact. He was a true warrior though, and lashed out with a war cry of his own, but was cut short as the great beast easily evaded the strike, and broke the claymore with but a single blow from the massive mace. Reaver stood helpless before Gnarltooth, and it let out a sinister smile of jagged, sharp teeth before bashing him to the side like a child hitting away a doll. Upon seeing their leader enter the battle, the Goblins were filled with renewed vigor and charged into battle, far more fierce then before. The Reavers were quickly being overwhelmed by this renewed assault, as they themselves were quite battle weary. A great score of them were cut down within minutes, and Roalrd knew they could no longer win through force of arms. But his time fighting orcs had taught him a few things about greenskins. Most important was that they follow the strongest. He just needed to remove the head. Cutting down one of the Goblins in his path he moved towards Gnarltooth before shouting out a word in Orcish. “
Mak’gora!”
This caused the battle come to a sudden standstill. The Goblins looked to their leader, eager to see his reaction. Gnarltooth stared the Breton for a moment, before its sinister, disgusting grin returned to its voice. “
Mak’gora.” It growled, causing Rolard to clutch his sword all the harder from anxiety.
The Goblins backed away from the battle, and the few remaining Reavers watched in utter confusion as Rol and the Goblin warlord seemed to engage in some Greenskin challenge. As Gnarltooth approached him, the Goblins began clashing their weapons together, or smashing them into the ground, chanting as their leader prepared to crush the puny challenger.
“
Muluk. Muluk! Mulul! MULUK!” The chant became deafening, and at its zenith Gnarltooth let out another horrific roar before charging at Rolard, leaping into the air and bringing his mace crashing down where he stood. Rolard barely had time to react, diving out of the way right before Gnarltooth crashed down. He didn’t have much time to recover as almost immediately the warlord was upon him again, swinging the massive mace as if it was a feather. Rolard strained greatly to dodge each strike, not even bothering to try and block such strength. He was already worn out from the battle, and the laceration on the back of his leg was taking its toll. Each doge became slower, each strike a bit more lethargic. He simply couldn’t find an opening where he could strike true, and he was quickly running out of time. Finally he miss-stepped, and just caught his sword, knocking it from his grasp and causing him to stumble onto his back. Standing victorious over his opponent, Gnarltooth gave a victorious roar much to the joy of his followers, who were eagerly eyeing the remaining Reavers, who watched, horrified as Gnarltooth picked up Rolard and make an example of him. The beast drove his fist into his face repeatedly, breaking his nose and leaving Rolard on the verge of unconsciousness. He could barely hear Grove shriek out his name as he faded in and out, and Gnarltooth brought him close to its face. It hissed something in its strange tongue, apparently gloating over its easy victory. Rolard whispered something back.
“
Pride comes before the fall ya cocky bastard.” Both of Rolards hands were suddenly wreathed in blue flames, both the Goblins and Reavers staring, stunned at this sudden development. Not wasting a moment, Rolard grasped Gnarltooths face, digging his hands deep into its skin as the flames scorched and burnt it.
It let out great howls of pain as it dropped Rolard clutched its face. He wanted to do nothing more than close his eyes and blissfully black out, but he had to finish the job. With great effort he reached over to his sword, and upon grabbing it, it burst into blue flames as well. With one final cry he swung
Saphfire at the Warlord, and slit his throat open. Gnarltooth stumbled back and made gurgled cries for help, terrified by the fire warrior. It managed to claw itself up and lope into the Great Forest, blood marking his path. Stunned, the Goblins came to the realization that their leader was defeated, and soon broke in a panicked rout, fleeing as fast as their feet could carry them back into the woods after their dying leader. Fort Ashe was liberated, and Rolard finally blacked out.
-----
Rolard awoke with a start as he shot up from his cot in a cold sweat reaching for his sword that was out of reach.
plopse, where’s my armor, my sword! Damnit to Oblivion! Upon hearing the distressed movements Grove walked over and gently stroked his hair as she laughed at the sight. “
Easy there Arcane Blade, don’t go busting all your stitches. Worked hard on those.” Upon seeing that he wasn’t still surrounded by Greenskins, he relaxed and laid back down, happy to be in a tent. Hopefully they were close to home.
“
What in Oblivion happened back there, and what’s up with that stupid nickname?” He muttered as he took into account the many new pains that were registering in his brain. He had taken more hits than he thought. Sloppy.
“
Oh don’t tell me you don’t remember, you went all alpha on that massive warlord that tossed Reaver around like a ragdoll! Sent those goblin plopses running with their tail between their legs. And that’s what everyone’s calling you now. City’s abuzz with news of the blue flames warrior who struck down a Goblin Warlord.” She was smiling, like it was some grand accomplishment or something, but for Rolard that was about the worst news he had ever heard.
“
It can’t be that big of a deal…” He groaned as he painfully pushed himself up from the cot, before realizing his lack of clothing. “
And did you have to strip everything off?”
“
Well, I had to have some form of repayment now didn’t I?” A playful grin danced across her face as leaned against him. “
And you’d be surprised. That Gnarldick guy was a serious pain in the arse in the Great Forest region. And with those blue flames of yours, makes for a hell of a story.”
So now I’m well known, have a bloody nickname, and people now know there’s a man who uses blue fire in the Reavers. Wonder how many days I have before they hunt me down?
Rolard just dragged his hands across his face as he got up and began the process of getting dressed and packed up his equipment. Seeing as they were out of immediate danger, he dressed in relatively simple clothing. Some brown wool pants and white linen shirt, with a thick black coat on top and exited the tent without saying another word, to frustrated to say anything to Grove right now.
He was relieved to find that they were already back at the Imperial City, telling him he was out for nearly five days. As he exited he was surprised to see Reaver hobbling about with what was left their company.
“
Ah, there he is, the Arcane Blade himself!” Reaver excitedly limped over to him and clasped his shoulder. “
Well done lad, well done! You can’t even begin to imagine the kind of contracts we’ll get after this! I promise you lad, stick with me and you’ll be drowning in Septims!” Rolard was going to scoff when Reaver pushed a rather heavy coin purse into his hands.
“
That’s a thousand septims there boy. Four times what you were supposed to make. And we got ourselves an even bigger contract.” Reaver then leaned in close and lowered his voice to a whisper. “
Perform well in the next one as well, you’ll have a shot at becoming partner.” Rolard’s eyes grew wide at that, scarcely believing those words. If that was true, he could make more than enough to support his family, and having a full mercenary company at his back would be a great boon to taking back Akaire.
What was left of the Crimson Reavers disbanded and headed into the city, the twins and Lugdul heading to the Tavern, while Grove decided to head to the Gold Coast for some vacation time. “
Come with me blue eyes, you look like plops, and that was before ol Gnarldick got hold of you. You need to give yourself a rest. Even you can’t keep fighting forever.”
Rolard smiled as he gave her a kiss on the cheek and began walking towards the city, “
That’s one thing I can do.” One thing I have to do… “Sides, gotta big contract coming up next week. Can’t miss that kind of payday. Have fun seducing some sailors.”
Grove rolled her eyes as she got on a carriage, “
Ah come on now Blue eyes, you know you’re the only one for me.” She offered him one final wink as he headed back into the cesspit of the Imperial City, and immediately regretted not going with her.
After a couple of hours winding through the glorious, never ending slums of the Imperial City, Rolard made it to the no less awful Water Front district. It was here, snuggled up somewhere between a warehouse that stored fish, and dilapidated tenement building that his own little shack lie. Not too bad all things considered, last place anyone would expect to find a noble family.. Equipment and coin pouch in hand, he headed inside. It was quite simple and meager as one would expect. A few candles lighting up the gloomy interior, a small table with three chairs, two cots, and a door leading to a small bedroom. And to top it off, a Breton with a spear in hand, drenched in sweat and dressed in dock workers attire.
There was a brief standoff between the two, before the Breton cracked a smile and embraced him. “
You gonna try and skewer me every time I walk into the house Vaynar?”
He laughed as he slapped in on the back and took a step back. “
Gotta keep you on your toes dear brother. Divines you look like plopse though!” He was slightly surprised to see how bruised and beaten Rolards face was. He simply shrugged as he smiled at his dearly missed brother. The two looked a great deal alike, tan, brown hair, blue eyes, although Vaynar’s didn’t glow.
“
Got in a little fistfight with a Goblin warlord, you know, the usual.” Vaynar sighed and shook his head, not surprised that he put himself in such a situation.
“
Ellia was worried sick about you, she isn’t gonna be happy about all those marks on your face.” He knew he wasn’t lying, Ellia had inherited their mother’s ability to nag and scold.
“
Rol?” Speak of Mehrunes.
He turned towards the bedroom door to see his little sister standing in the doorway, a small lass, no older than six. She had red hair, and blue eyes that came from their mother, as well as a few freckles speckled across her face. Upon seeing that it was him she rushed forward and jumped into his arms, nearly knocking him off his shaky feet.
“
Oof, easy there Snowflake. You can charge like a minotaur, you know that?” She giggled into his shoulder, but refused to let go, taking a moment to look at his face, a horrified expression appearing on hers.
“
Rol, your face! Did the bad men hurt you?” He kissed her forehead softly and held her close again, gently stroking her to put her at ease.
“
Hush little one, the bad men are nowhere near us. Just got in a scuffle with some Greenskins.” He set her down and gave her a broad smile, as much as it hurt to. “
But I beat him up worse.”
This brightened her up, and she clapped in adulation for her big brother. “
Good job Rol! Da would be proud of you! Ya always knew how to cut the Greenskins up proper!” She said as she tried to copy some of the moves she had seen him use in the practice yards of Akaire. She stumbled and miss-stepped adorably as she tried to do it right. “
One day, I’ll learn to fight just like you! Then I’ll cut all the bad men and Greenskins! Make them pay for hurting us!”
This brought down Rolards spirit somewhat. She was such a sweet girl. Compassionate, loving, intelligent. But she had lost her innocence, her childhood. She spoke of things no child should even know about, and it terrified him that he didn’t know how to fix it. Finally she fell flat on her back after trying to do a spin attack, causing both the brothers to chuckle at her antics. Vaynar took her up in his arms.
“
Don’t you worry yourself about that Snowflake, by the time your our age we’ll be back in Akaire, and you won’t have to worry about the bad men any longer.” She didn’t seem satisfied with this, but gave a small nod, knowing she wouldn’t win an argument with the brothers. Seeing her dissatisfied, Rolard went into his pack and pulled out a small dogwood flute he kept with him on his travels.
“
How about I play you a song, put you back to bed, huh?” The young Breton girl gave an excited yelp as she jumped out of Vaynars arms and into her bed, eagerly awaiting her song. Rolard eased himself into a chair by the head of her bed, and prepared to play.
“
Can you play the one momma played for me?” Her voice was soft as she was already beginning to fade into rest. Rolards voice caught in his throat for a moment as he remembered the tune. They hadn’t played it since Akaire.
“
Of course Snowflake, anything for you…”
(
)
--------
The week went by relatively smoothly, the family greatly enjoying being reunited once again. It was a rare treat, as Rolard was nearly always out looking for some kind of work, desperately looking to bring in coin for his siblings, but with this bonus, it gave him time to relax and enjoy their time together. They spent time at the Elven Gardens district. While nothing near as wondrous as it once was, it was a nice place to sit back and relax, something they family got to do quite rarely. But such time together was always short, and by weeks end, Rolard was off once more to head off on a contract. His wounds had largely healed, although his face was still worse for wear. A reluctant Ellia wrapped herself around his leg though, refusing to budge.
“
You can’t go again Rol! Ya just got back!” She pleaded, making puppy dog eyes that could melt any heart. The girl would be a master manipulator one day.
“
You know I must sweet Snowflake, got to bring in the Septims somehow.” While Vaynar made a small income as dock hand, it was nowhere near enough to support the entire family. He just worked it so he could be home with Ellia and keep an eye on her. She herself was far to young to do any kind of work. Instead she would stay home, and occasionally sneak out to play with the other street rats.
Finally Ellia loosened her grip, wiping a few tears away from her icey eyes. “
I understand Rol, but before you go. I wanted to give you something!” She sprinted back into the house as fast as her little feet could carry her, remaining inside for a minute, before coming back out with a small wrapped package.
“
I saw it in the Market District at Fighting Chance, and I wanted to give it to you! When you fight the bad men!” There was a great deal of hope and excitement in her eyes, praying to the Divines he’d be happy with her. It was a beautiful Elven dagger, which must of cost no small maount of coin. Truth be told he was happy, but at the same time disturbed and annoyed. She was far to fascinated with “killing the bad men”, and he didn’t like that she would sneak out all the way to the Market District! He’d have to talk with Vaynar when he got back.
“
I love it Snowflake! Many a beast will fall by this blade!” He wrapped his arms around her, before sheathing it in his boot to catch foes off guard. Patting her on the head, he waved farewell to his brother, and began his trek to the Crimson Reavers Chapter House.
It was a fairly long walk into the slums to get to the Chapter house, but it was one he was quite used. The usual ruffians that hung about quickly learned to stay out of his way after a few lost some limbs. The Chapter House itself was fairly simple, a larger building in the center of the slums, with a bloody sword and axe on a banner.
Home sweet home.
He strode up to the house and entered, the outside guards nodding in acknowledgement, their main focus being on vagabonds and thieves trying to scope out the house or cause trouble. The main entrance room was fairly simple, a few trophies from past contracts such as troll and Goblin skulls. Right ahead of him was Reavers office, guarded by the twins, dressed in full arms and armor.
“
Morning gentleman, beautiful day for an expensive contract eh?” He was met with silence, neither even bothering to offer him a glance.
Dicks.
Not bothering to see what was wrong with them, he headed right in to the main office where Reaver would be waiting to brief him, and hopefully discuss this possible partnership. He doubted it would be this quick, but it could be a possibility. Upon entering he saw Reaver in deep discussion with a hooded man. He couldn’t hear much, but he heard big numbers, which was quite promising.
“
Greetings gentlemen, trust this here’s our contractor. What’s the target? Another Goblin infestation? Raiders?” Reaver looked up at him, and gave him a look that he had never seen before. One of malice.
“
No Mr. Seton. We have a very different target.” Rolards heart dropped through the floor upon hearing that. He never told anyone his last name. Not even Grove.
“
Where in Oblivion did you get that bloody name?” He hissed through gritted teeth, feeling heat beginning to rise in his hands.
“
Why from our esteemed guest here.” He gestured to the hooded man, who now stood and turned towards.
“
Greeting ‘Lord’ Rolard. It seems House Seton has fallen low indeed to work with such scum. Truly pathetic. Thankfully, scum like this are easily swayed by coin.” He leaned his head back towards Reaver, who was greedily digging into a pile of Septims that was laid out on the desk.
He knew this face. Enric Blardyn, third child of Lord Blardyn. The same Lord who butchered his parents in their own home. “
You piece of plopse, you dare show your face before me!? I’ll skewer you where you stand!”
“
You’ll do no such thing.” Reaver stood up and walked around the desk, a brand new glistening claymore made of dark ebony. “
Like it? Got it as a little gift for myself when I was contacted about the bounty on your head. Think I earned it.” He petted the massive blade, enamored by how beautiful it was. Rolard heard the door open behind him, clearly this wasn’t a secret to the elder members of the Reavers.
“
So here’s what’s going to happen, you are going to lay down your arms, lead us to your family, and you’ll all die quick painless deaths. More than what can be said for your parents.” Enric had a cocky look on his face, feeling like he had hunted down the last of the Setons. The twins came up at his sides, ready to strike him down should he draw his sword. Seeing how they would strike him down if he used his sword or magic. So he placed the sword down, and slowly knelt down to the ground in submission.
“
I’m sorry Rolard, we’ll make sure they show your family some mercy.” Romulus mumbled, his voice laden with guilt as he reached out to apprehend him.
“
No Romulus.” Rolards eyes began glowing fiercely as he looked into his eyes, “
You’re nowhere near sorry enough." Rolard then grasped the elven dagger in his boot and slashed it out, cleanly slicing through his eyes and blinding the traitorous son of a bitch.
“
House Seton shall never fall! BURNING BRIGHT!” With his captors caught off guard, Rolard grabbed
Saphfire and prepared to slay all those who dare stand before him. Tiberius roared in rage upon seeing his brother blinded, and launched himself at the noble with his spear while Reaver charged him with his claymore as Enric looked like he was about ready to crap himself. Pathetic, boy like him didn’t deserve to be nobility. Rolard launched a fireball at Reaver, causing him to veer off and crash into the ground and crack his head on a table knocking him out, while the fireball engulfed the wall in the back, quickly taking to the old wood and spreading with surprising speed. Rolard turned his attention to Tiberius his white ebon blade once more engulfed in blue flames as it struck out at the Imperial warrior, the ferocity of the betrayed noble and grieving brother bringing them to a standstill as they were matched blow for blow, flame and steel colliding. Finally Rolard was able to get under his guard, slicing beneath his shoulder and weakening his shield arm. He started to gain the advantage until a blade pierced his own shoulder, from the still quaking Enric.
“
Ah, bloody coward. That’s all your kin can do, strike from the shadows! Your family know nothing of bravery, of honor!” Rolard twisted around and smashed his gauntleted fist Enrics face, knocking him out cold, blood and scorch marks on his face.
Rolard turned about to see the bloodied form of Tiberias, cradling his blinded brother with his good arm. He looked up at him, desperation screaming from his eyes. “
Please, Rolard. Have mercy.”
Rolard smiled lightly and approached the wounded brothers, kneeling down in front of them. “
Would my little sister have gotten mercy from them? My brother?” Silence reigned in the room after the question, only the crackling of fire and creaking of the near collapsing house. They both new the answer, and they knew his answer. Rolard stood up and sheathed his weaponry, walking out of the building. He turned back to the chapter house, summoning flames to his hands once more. An uncharacteristically savage smile formed on his face as he launched flames into the already burning building, engulfing the entire structure in a blue inferno.
“
There he is officer! That’s the one who killed our boss! And his noble contractor! Divines save us, he’s burning the district down!” The cries came from the outside guard, who must have fled to get the Imperial Guard of the city when they saw the flames. He watched as the heavily armored guardsmen surrounded him, waiting for an excuse to cut him down like a dog. And their numbers would allow them to do so easily. So he sheathed his sword and knelt down, awaiting their judgement.
“
Blue flames… This is the one, that Arcane Blade fella.” The gurds looked at each other, their curiosity peaked. “
Be a shame for such talent to go to waste. But there’s a special place where it can be used." All the guard nodded in agreement. The Arena would be his fate.
“
No, not there. Divines sake don’t…” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as a club to the head sent him to unconsciousness. They picked up his limp form and cuffed him with Dimeritium hand cuffs before tossing him into the cart that was on its way to the Arena, a few occupants already filling it.