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    Aerin

    IOK's Token Brit
    Sonnex slumped on the bench, tugging irritably at the coarse rope that bound their wrists. Lifting their hands, the bandit pulled down the rag covering the lower part of their face to scratch at their nose. Sonnex sighed loudly, only to be yelled at by the guard driving the carriage.

    Sonnex coughed violently.

    As the guard turned to shout, Sonnex pulled their mask up once more, the filthy material hiding the impish grin beneath. They were finding it hard not to be too antagonistic, though considering the situation they were in, it was hardly unexpected if the devilish imperial decided to take out their frustrations on their kinsman. Perhaps the only thing that was preventing Sonnex from launching into a whirlwind of chaos was the uncertainty of how it would work out for their brothers in arms who were also, sadly, bound and loaded into the back of the carriage.

    As the cart bounded along the stone path, the bandit cursed their shared ignorance at all the warning signs. Yes it had been a very good chance to make some quick coin, but perhaps targeting the war camp that held the Rebel King of Windhelm hadn't been their smartest strategy. In any case, they were here now, not much could be done about that. All they could really hope for now was that they weren't fated for the headsman's block. Wishful thinking considering Ulfric was bound a gagged not one cart away from them.

    Leaning back on the bench Sonnex struck a nonchalant pose, twisting so that they could rest an elbow on the side of the cart behind them. Resting an ankle over their knee they began to look around, as if calmly admiring the passing scenery. Glancing over at their companions Sonnex smiled gently.

    "So what now?"
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    Gweezdo had yet to believe that the plan had failed. A week of planning not only gone down the drain, but also compromising all their weeks in the future as a clan, and as free humans.

    One of the imperials had pressed his spear a little bit too strongly against the bandit's back when they forced the prisoners on their carriages earlier that morning, but not enough to draw any blood. It was burny, and itchy, to say the least, but Gweezdo could hardly notice it anymore. His mind was nearly gone completely from that situation, and was now haunting his past mistakes and their maker. "Mother always told me to be an advisor for a Jarl... But no... I had to become a bandit, just because I didn't want to butter up royalty all day!"

    That week had made Gweezdo question severely how viable his career choice was, from the rough patch the group had been going through, to the failure at the rebel camp due to excessive greed. The bumps in the road occasionally woke him up from his meditation, turning his focus to the most pressing matter at the given moment. But he refused to believe that such a horrible situation was truly happening. The plan seemed perfect. All those contacts, all the maps, all the acting, and it still hadn't been enough. "At least if I die in an imperial prison, I won't get fed to the hounds of one of those thugs I owe money to..."

    Another bump tried to pull the bandit out of his pessimistic lines of thought that tangled him like a web and kept him from moving mentally. But in the end, it was that familiar voice which truly dragged him out of his ocean of despair, at least for a moment. "So what now?"

    Yes, Gweezdo knew who that voice belonged to. Sonnex hadn't said anything during the whole trip. In fact, none of them had. The failure had been embarrassing to all, to say the least. Who could blame them? Nobody knew what was going to happen to them, because they hadn't even considered failing. Arrogance at its finest, even among lowly bandits. For all Gweezdo knew about imperial punishments, they could easily be traded to Forsworn in exchange of any soldiers they kept as prisoners, but that decision was not up to any of them either way.

    Somehow, Sonnex managed to pull off a gentle grin, ignoring all the pain and stench and suffering that was obviously present in every carriage of the line, theirs no exception. It wasn't enough to make the young imperial suddenly carefree, but it did manage to lighten his mood and make him feel a little more at home with the wagon. "Now? Well... Now two things can happen: We either get to stay together, locked up for good, or we part ways, either to our afterlife, or to different prisons. There is still a third option but... to believe it to happen, you need to chug a big bottle of skooma." Gweezdo forced a chuckle out of his sore throat, which sounded more like a cough when he finally spat it out. "Whichever it is they go for, it has been an honor to plunder with you, gentlemen." he lifted his bound arms, as if trying to propose a toast with an imaginary cup. Upon lowering them, he completed his speech. "Unless they make a colossal mistake, I don't see us escaping this one by ourselves."
     

    Sifu

    Seeker
    Mugen's eyes snapped open as a sharp jolt in the road roused him from his unconscious daze. He let out a pained groan as he sat up straight, his face raw and red from laying on the edge of the cart. "plops..." he muttered, holding a hand to the gash on the bridge of his nose which was caked with dried blood. He was sore all over, and the gash was particularly painful. He blinked, looking around him with a confused look of astonishment as he took in what was happening. They were caught, him and his merry band of thieves and lowlifes were chained together in the same cart. Mugen sighed as he sat back, recollecting the moments that had led him and the group to this.

    It was Mugen's insistence which led to the attack on the camp. It was a stupid move, and now they were all in chains being led to either a grimy Imperial prison to live out the rest of their lives in a dingy cell, or better yet, the chopping block. Still, it seemed like a good idea at the time. What the group wasn't counting on was a brigade of legionnaires led by General Tulius showing up in the middle of all the fun.

    Mugen had tried holding his own against them, he even managed to wound a few of the Imperial troops before he was struck in the face with a sword pommel. That was the last thing he remembered before blacking out and waking up in the back of a wagon with his wrists bound.

    For a moment, Mugen felt anger well up inside of him and he nearly opened his mouth to snap at the group for being so incompetent. But he realized that would be unfair, even by Mugen's standards. He was just as responsible as anyone else for the failure at the camp. So instead, he sat there silently with a scowl on his face.

    "So what now?" Mugen raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at Sonnex, who seemed very relaxed for someone who was very likely about to be executed. Mugen grumbled to himself, shaking his head before looking off into the passing forest.

    "Now? Well... Now two things can happen: We either get to stay together, locked up for good, or we part ways, either to our afterlife, or to different prisons. There is still a third option but... to believe it to happen, you need to chug a big bottle of skooma." Gweezdo replied, forcing a chuckle "Whichever it is they go for, it has been an honor to plunder with you, gentlemen." Mugen smirked as Gweezdo lifted his bound arms in a toast. Gweezdo had a way with words, and Mugen respected him for it. "Unless they make a colossal mistake, I don't see us escaping this one by ourselves."

    "Yeah, you got that one right." Mugen muttered without realizing how hoarse his voice would be. He coughed, clearing his throat before continuing. "But I'll be damned if I let some legion bastard take my head, I don't know about you guys, but I ain't going down without a fight." Even in the face of insurmountable odds, Mugen's bravado knew no bounds.
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    Vaerwen shuffled uncomfortably on the hard wooden carriage bench. It was rare for her to have to stay still for so long. She was somewhat angry with herself for not avoiding capture, but, then again, this was bound to happen sooner or later. She wasn't the most skilled at logical thinking, and had to accept that a long time ago.
    Not my fault, she told herself.
    All of our fault, her heart corrected.

    Of course, what good would it have been to escape the soldiers if she knew her little band was left behind? She could've lived with herself, but probably not for long. While Vaerwen possessed almost no sense of duty, she felt the bonds of comradeship rather strongly. Sometimes it annoyed her, but she usually embraced it. Being a less than stable solo act, clinging to the flock was probably the only thing that had kept her alive up to that point.

    The carriage suddenly hit a rather large bump, jolting the previously unconscious young Mugen awake.
    Vaerwen glanced around at her group, starting to feel rather sad. She knew their journey would end somewhere tragic, but the reality hadn't occurred to her before just then that this could really be the end of the line for them.

    "So what now?" Sonnex's voice echoed off the walls of her mind. The man-- woman?-- seemed relaxed. Far more relaxed than anyone in that situation ought to be. Vaerwen very much liked this sight.
    Hope? she asked herself. Dare we?

    "Now?" Gweezdo answered from beside her. "Well... Now two things can happen: We either get to stay together, locked up for good, or we part ways, either to our afterlife, or to different prisons. There is still a third option but... to believe it to happen, you need to chug a big bottle of skooma."
    Vaerwen shifted again in her seat, feeling ever more sorry for herself and her friends.
    "Whichever it is they go for, it has been an honor to plunder with you, gentlemen."
    Gweezdo raised his bound hands in an invisible toast. Vaerwen briefly considered clashing her own imaginary tankard with his before he set them down.
    "Unless they make a colossal mistake, I don't see us escaping this one by ourselves."
    Holding tears back in her blood-colored eyes, Vaerwen scooted into Gweezdo and laid her head on his shoulder. Part of her knew such an act would show weakness, and might even annoy a bandit close to death, but the rest of her didn't care.
    "Yeah, you got that one right." Mugen said, clearing his throat. "But I'll be damned if I let some legion bastard take my head, I don't know about you guys, but I ain't going down without a fight."
    Vaerwen nodded in agreement, with a lump in her throat.
    "If there's a headsman where we're going, I'll take him out," she said casually. "That'll be funny, right? Execute the executioner. What a way to go."

    She closed her eyes, and allowed her mind to drift to the last card game they played together. What blood tastes like. The first and only time she tried to wear a dress...
    Anywhere but on that wagon.
     

    Aerin

    IOK's Token Brit
    "If there's a headsman where we're going, I'll take him out. That'll be funny, right? Execute the executioner. What a way to go."

    Sonnex was reassured to see the others quietly joking about their situation. They would never admit to fear, that much was certain. But it was these tell tale signs that proved that they were all as terrified as each other. Sonnex picked at the dirt that encrusted their nails, flicking a few flakes of mud and blood at the back of the cart drivers head. It would have been more satisfying perhaps, had they not been wearing a helmet.

    "Right. You take down the executioner, and I'll secure a passage. Some smoke screens, just like old times. Maybe I'll even tell you all if I'm a boy or girl. Right before I kick it. For a laugh right?"

    It's a funny feeling, knowing you're not likely to survive the day. Sonnex had only experienced this a handful of times before, only to be pulled back from the cold grip of death at the last moment. A well shot arrow, quick thinking and quicker hands, anything that could provide enough of a distraction to allow hasty escape.

    Not this time though.

    Shifting on the seat Sonnex watched warily as the cart passed through the large gate that led to Helgen. There were a few thalmor agents dotted about. And the big dogs fighting for the empire. Sonnex glared at the back of General Tullius' head and wished they could spit that far. Somewhere along the line, Sonnex had chosen to dislike Tullius, for no more reason than they hadn't declared an enemy for a while, and they felt that this terrible situation needed to be remedied. And so here they were. Two mortal enemies, one sworn to defeat the other, while one continued to remain wholly ignorant of the others existence. Sonnex did readily admit that having a nemesis was more fun when the feelings of hatred were mutual, but at this point Sonnex was truly desperate and had vowed to make do.

    The carts were being lined up by a large wall that sat in the shadow cast by a foreboding tower. The weather seemed pleasant at least. Sonnex wouldn't have liked to die in a rainstorm. Far too romantic for their tastes.

    If given the choice the little imperial would have wanted to die a martyr perhaps, consumed by an inferno of their own doing to allow the rest to go free. It was a daydream Sonnex liked to tweak daily. Yesterday they had added the detail of green flames. Green flames seemed far more heroic and worthy of the bard's tales in taverns and mead halls.

    There would be no green flames today it seemed. Only the headsman's axe and the sneer of Legate Rikke. As the group of bandits were called to step down, Sonnex bowed to the others and pulled down the green mask from their face. "Well lads, it's been an honour. Last one to the afterlife buys the first round."
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    It was very quite in the cart that Thorar was in. A bag had been placed over his head, and he was in steel chains. His hands and legs were both chained to the bottom of the cart, that much he knew. He didn't know if he was in the same cart as all of his comrades, but as the trip wore on, he began to assume that he wasn't, as he heard multiple guards talking, some of which were right next to him. It was somewhat amusing at all the precautions the guards had taken with him. While he may have gone blood crazy at the Stormcloak camp they had raided, he wasn't normally a mean guy. In fact, he was a little upset at how he had acted. He hates violence, unless it is against the Dominion. He absolutely hated the Aldmeri Dominion, and had gone out of his way before to make life miserable to them. He hated High Elves the most. However, he was no racist. He could abide by someone who's Race was a member of the Dominion. Take for example, Vaerwin, a Bosmer woman, and a part of his "Family". She had more than earned his trust. Thinking about Vaerwin shifted his mind back to his crew. 'I hope they had better luck than I did.' He thought to himself. Thorar had stayed behind, fighting both Imperials and Stormcloaks to try and by his bandit group, which he considered his family, time to escape. The threat to his friends had driven Thorar into a Blood lust, and he went berserk, until he got blasted by a spell from somebody, and fell unconscious. Apparently, he had also been hit by a fire spell, because his arm was burnt, but he doesn't remember when it happened. In fact, he didn't remember much of the brawl. The carts began to slow, and a creaking noise was heard. Assuming they had arrived at their destination, Thorar sat up a little straighter. One of the guards removed the bag over his head as he came into view of a few other carts. The blood on his face and armor had dried by now, and was still present on him. He saw his crew being forced out of one of the carts, and he frowned, a dismal expression crossing his face. Suddenly, the cart came to a stop a few meters in front of the other two, making Thorar jump a little out of his seat. The Guards screeched in terror, and leaped out of the cart. There were also a few crashing noises to his right, the opposite way of where he was looking. Apparently they had thought he was making an escape movement, and a few of them, in their mad haste to get away from the "Escaping" bandit, fell back over the sides. A chuckle escaped Thorar's shy lips, but was cut off almost instantly by one of the soldiers who had jumped out of the cart. The Imperial hit Thorar in the back of the head with the blunt side of his sword, rather harder than he needed to. Thorar became a bit dazed. The Imperial soldiers pilled back into the cart, and unhooked his steel restraints from the cart floor, and taking a long chain that was attached to the middle of his restraints, yanked him out of the cart. Looking at the headsman, who was practicing by cutting a fruit in half, he turned to face his "family", and the quiet, shy man had a sad expression cross his face once more.
     

    Sifu

    Seeker
    Mugen was nervous now as the cart rolled through the imposing metal gates of Helgen, although he did his best not to let it show. He maintained his unbreaking scowl, although on the inside an overwhelming wave of panic began to wash over him as the thought of his execution came to fruition. He could see the block now, at the end of the road in the town's square. Beside the block, which was a menacing shade of faded crimson, stood the executioner. A colossal man clad in black leather with his face hidden beneath a hood, and a massive monstrosity of an axe towering next to him. Oh pl*ps... Mugen thought, his eyes fixed on the executioner, this is really happening.

    "Of all the places I could die, it just had to be Skyrim."
    Mugen said, doing his best to mask the anxiety in his voice. While his remark seemed somewhat lighthearted, Mugen really did not want this place to be his end. For a moment, he thought of Anvil. It had been years since he'd been home, and this time of year it'd still be a bit chilly even along the Gold Coast. But at that moment, passing by the cold, bleak, stone buildings with the Nord locals staring down at him with their wild eyes, Mugen wanted nothing more to be at home by the water with the warmth of the sun shining down on him.

    The cart came to an abrupt stop, and instantly the thought of Anvil vanished.

    The wooden door at the rear of the wagon was let down, and an armed legionary barked at the prisoners to get down. Mugen swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitantly stepped down. He glared at the legionary, who was a shorter woman looking to be in her 40's. Judging by her metal armor, she had to be a legate or hold some other distinguished rank worthy of being commended with a flashy suit of armor.
    "Y'know, I like a woman who knows how to take charge," Mugen quipped, not being able to resist making a snide remark even in the face of death. He smirked wryly as the woman scowled and gave him a hard shove, before barking some command about him knowing his place.

    Glancing behind him, his fellow prisoners now stood in a circle. Behind them, he could see Thorar being offloaded another cart. Damn, was hoping he would make it. Mugen thought to himself, recalling how Thorar had stayed behind in an effort to cover the group's escape.

    "Well lads, it's been an honour. Last one to the afterlife buys the first round."
    Mugen turned toward Sonnex, who bowed respectfully to the group before removing their mask. After all this time, Mugen still wasn't sure whether or not Sonnex was a man or a woman. He had asked before, pried even, as to the nature of Sonnex's gender, and for a minute he considered asking again right then and there. But he decided against it, as he realized this could be the group's final moment together and frankly it'd make for a rather embarrassing last conversation. Plus, Sonnex had already joked earlier about revealing their gender right before the execution, so maybe he'd get his answer soon enough.

    "Alright look guys, cut this pl*ps out. We're not going to die here, okay? We've been in bad situations before." Mugen said, speaking quickly and nervously. His voice was trembling with emotion. "We'll figure something out, because this, this right here--" he gestured to the small army of Imperial troops grouped around the chopping block "--It's nothing. I'll think of something, okay? Just, follow my lead when you see it." Truthfully, Mugen had absolutely no idea what he was going to do, and the rest of the group knew it.

    Closer to the chopping block, the legionary woman from earlier was watching Ulfric Stormcloak's cart be unloaded.
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    "Right. You take down the executioner, and I'll secure a passage. Some smoke screens, just like old times. Maybe I'll even tell you all if I'm a boy or girl. Right before I kick it. For a laugh right?"
    Vaerwen imagined Sonnex, kneeling under the headman' axe, comically shouting "I'm a boooooy!" before being cut off by the loss of their head. The words would echo through the mountainside even after their death, bewildering everyone but the ears they were meant for. It would've been a silly thought if it weren't terribly likely to happen.

    Vaerwen could hear new sounds around them. The horses' foot steps bounced off of walls, and more and more voices became apparent, babbling on about the life they would still have after the contents of the carts were dealt with. Helgen.
    "Of all the places I could die, it just had to be Skyrim," Mugen complained.

    When the carriage finally came to a halt, Vaerwen's eyes shot open and she lifted her head off of Gweezdo's shoulder.
    "Well lads, it's been an honour. Last one to the afterlife buys the first round."
    They were being lined up with the other carts, where she searched for the only one of their brothers that didn't make it onto the same one as them. She was sure he'd made it out of the ambush. Last she saw him, he was mowing down any man unlucky-- or foolish-- enough to get too close.

    And then she spotted him, just as his cart came to a pause. Thorar, the largest of their group, bound in a ridiculous amount of chains and accompanied by especially nervous-looking guards.
    And blood. Probably a thick mix of his victims' and his own.

    Her attention was divided as a soldier ushered her off the wagon. She was forced into a line, her mind in a million different places. However, a few things breached her lack of concentration:

    First, Thorar being jerked off his cart by a long chain, lining up with the rest of the prisoners. He looked as sad as she felt.
    "What do they think you are? A bear?" she asked him, half joking, half angry. Lifting her rope-bound hands, she tugged gently on his chains.
    Thoroughly ridiculous. Ridiculously thorough.

    Next, she noticed the headsman, in all his hooded glory.
    You're mine, she glared at him. A fire was welling up in her belly, replacing the sorrow she'd felt before. It was overwhelming, but easier than being sad.

    And then the Thalmor. Of course the Thalmor would be here. It was already a disgraceful situation, as far as bandit deaths are concerned. They were lined up like cattle for the slaughter. The executioner was nonchalantly warming up his axe-swigging arm cutting fruit. So having the Thalmor oversee the whole thing just made sense.

    "Alright look guys, cut this pl*ps out. We're not going to die here, okay? We've been in bad situations before." Mugen said from nearby.
    "We'll figure something out, because this, this right here--" Vaerwen watched as he motioned toward the Imperial soldiers all around them.
    "--It's nothing. I'll think of something, okay? Just, follow my lead when you see it."

    The Bosmer was seething inside, barely containing herself. She twisted her wrists against the rope, plotting how best to end the headsman when her name was called off the list. She would follow Mugen's lead, but leaving that man alive was not an option, however dumb her lust for his blood might've been.
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    "Yeah, you got that one right. Mugen almost-whispered sorely from his seat of the carriage. "But I'll be damned if I let some legion bastard take my head, I don't know about you guys, but I ain't going down without a fight." Gweezdo had hardly any urge to dig the truth out of his friends' words that day, and merely smiled as if congratulating his friend for his bravery. Mugen's promises of battle almost made him not notice it when Vaerwen chose to tug her head on his shoulder. Gweezdo wasn't usually the kind of man to turn towards in case of emotional breakdowns or neediness, but, this time, he chose to avoid any complaints, and, for once, enjoy human contact. Then, completely out of context of that affective position, she exclaimed casually "If there's a headsman where we're going, I'll take him out. That'll be funny, right? Execute the executioner. What a way to go." The imperial still had hopes that they were incarcerated rather than slain, but the odds of such a good demise were low. Plus, even if they actually put up a fight, poor Gweezdo would still feel worthless most of the time, unless he had the good fortune of getting the chance to create a distraction safely.

    "Right. You take down the executioner, and I'll secure a passage. Some smoke screens, just like old times. Maybe I'll even tell you all if I'm a boy or girl. Right before I kick it. For a laugh right? Sonnex continued their little 'what if' game. Gweezdo had spent most of his days believing Sonnex to be a man, but when the subject was brought up, he couldn't recall ever seeing him with a woman or with a man, he had definitely never seen the imperial undress, and their separate rooms didn't allow Gweezdo to ever get a glimpse of his friend shaving. That was when the question was raised to him, hardly two weeks before that day. "Well lads, it's been an honour." He descended back into reality, never without any light sense of humour to give them a false sense of security. "Last one to the afterlife buys the first round."

    "Of all the places I could die, it just had to be Skyrim." His friend complained in apparent awe, as they reached the towering gates of Helgen. The headsman awaited them patiently, his axe hardly even kept washed. Why bother? It was meant to kill, the diseases its blade carried mattered little, and would, in fact, help, if someone managed to survive long enough without a head. Tullius stood almost arrogantly on his well-trained stallion, watching each and every last one of the carts enter the fortress, as if a pup next to its owners, the Thalmor in this case. They did not go much further than that. A few more clops of the horse that pulled the carriage and their line reached its end.

    Luckily for the bandits, their carriage was still among the first ones, which meant they had the privilege of leaving the stinky barbed wooden bench of theirs sooner than most others. Only after jumping out himself, did Gweezdo notice his friend Thorar in another wagon, still slowing down to unload its 'cargo'. An Imperial Captain ticked something in her list, a sign of an ever-more burocratic Empire developping, since there could hardly be any plans for bandits that weren't expected to be there. Unless... Were they expected? Gweezdo couldn't think of anyone that would be willing to double-cross them, taking in account the money involved to everyone in the deal. Anyway, it didn't matter now. Mugen still said a hasty joke which the imperial didn't have the privilege of catching due to his thinking, but he could still tell that the Captain had not enjoyed it.

    There they stood, in a circle, as Thorar was brought out of his cart with maybe too much caution. It was almost as if they didn't know what they were dealing with: a human or an animal, and Vaerwen, of course, joked about it in a way that she could still criticize their methods. There were a few seconds of silence as the Stormcloaks were now unloaded from the carriages, nobody really sure about what else to say. Mugen, then, finally ended that frightening torment that leashed all of them, the morbid silence of men that awaited death. "Alright look guys, cut this pl*ps out. We're not going to die here, okay? We've been in bad situations before. We'll figure something out, because this, this right here--" he pointed with his eyes and nose towards the squad that swarmed the chopping block. "--It's nothing. I'll think of something, okay? Just, follow my lead when you see it." His words were fast and stressed, but Gweezdo was no man to judge him. He knew his words were lies as he was trying to make up a plan, but at least he had hope something could be done. In situations like those, it was usually Gweezdo the first one to panic, but, in that case, he felt rather accepting towards his death. Deep down, he was still an Imperial. He preferred that one of his own got the privilege of ending his life, rather than some behemoth of a nord that had hardly a clue about what a brain was, who would kill him for gold and gold alone. Still, the feeling that demanded him to generate some hope among his peers couldn't stop haunting him. It was usually him the one who refused to believe in an early death, he might as well act like it until the end. "I... haven't told you about option number three..." He stammered insecurely, trying to still sound as rational as he usually did. "M-maybe Ulfric is bluffing. Less than a quarter of his forces are here, and the real army is preparing to siege Helgen down and save its leader." Probably more than anyone else in that fortress, Gweezdo had no faith in his words. Years of card games had made him realize most Nords sucked at bluffing through looking weak, and preferred to intimidate their foes by looking stronger than they really were. Still, if it would ease up his friends, Gweezdo felt like it was worth saying such an unlikely guess.

    Crafting the kindest expression he could make, he approached Mugen to try to calm him down, as he had been the one worthy enough to prove to be nervous, when trying to comfort them. "Don't worry buddy... We will walk out of here alive, and when we do, you will find a three of clubs in your right pocket. I can already tell..." Truth was, Gweezdo always kept an emergency surprise card in all of his friends' pockets in case of need, and he had hardly any faith in making it out alive. However, if they did manage to crawl out of there, the three of clubs could possibly make his friend feel safer next time the card tricks were brought up in a nasty situation. "Now look tough, can't let these Imperials think of us as soft, am I right?" He smiled.
     
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    Aerin

    IOK's Token Brit
    "Now look tough, can't let these Imperials think of us as soft, am I right?"

    "Try harder Gweez, you never quite convinced me." Sonnex muttered quietly under their breath as the priestess of Arkay began to recite their rites. Sonnex shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if all this posturing was worth it. The first stormcloak knelt and felt the icy kiss of the headsman's blade across his neck. The imperial couldn't help but wince, knowing full well they were be given the same treatment shortly.

    Next was some prisoner by the looks of it. A high elf, snooty like it's kin, yellowing aged rags hanging from his body. Sonnex sighed deeply as if bored. As the prisoner walked over to the block, a deep, thunderous boom echoed through the mountains. Sonnex squinted and looked upwards, wondering if the weather was about to turn. As the Legate dismissed various guards concerns, the execution continued as planned.

    Or it would have, had the dragon not interrupted.

    For a moment, it felt as though Nirn had slowed on it's axis, Sonnex quickly backing into Gweez and Mugen. "We need to get out of here. Now!"

    Brimstone and dust rained down on them, small rocks pelting down onto the back of Sonnex's neck as they covered, struggling to search for cover. The elf had run off in the direction of one of the watch towers along side the stormcloak rebels, whilst General Tullius struggled to regain a semblance of control and order as soldiers and civilians alike fled in terror.

    Another earth shaking roar. Sonnex could taste iron. Taking a deep breath they tugged relentlessly at the ropes binding their wrists and cursed the empire in their efficiency. Whipping their head around they searched for their companions, mentally checking heads to see who was still standing as the buildings around them caught flame and the sound of the horses by the carts filled the air.
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    Thorar smiled, and chuckled at Vaerwen's remark, but this only got him another smack in the back of the head. Slouched over, he walked up in chains, and joined his companions. That's when he saw the first Thalmor. The nasty High Elf was starring at him with a wicked grin on his face, and he made a motion across his neck, signaling that Thorar was about to die. The Bloody elf was taunting him. Thorar's blood began to boil again. He tended to be a nice guy until you threatened his family... or if you were a Thalmor. The First Stormcloak prisoner was beheaded, and next up was a High Elf. For some reason, seeing a bound High Elf about to be decapitated brought a small smile to Thorar's lips. He stopped the smile from growing, however, and then turned it into a frown. They were next. A loud boom sounded overhead. Clouds began to swirl and form. 'Bad weather?' He asked himself. Then a roar sounded, and a Dragon landed on the tower above them. Thorar's eyes grew wide. The Dragon released fire from its maw, and it spewed towards Thorar, who fell backwards, his legs moving to the sides to try and avoid being burned, however, instead, the fire hit the chains that bound his legs, and melted them off. Thorar sat stunned for a second. He couldn't believe his luck. Turning, the big man made eye contact with the Thalmor from before, who's snooty face had changed to one of panic. Thorar felt his blood rage welling inside him, and he yanked his hands in opposite directions, to the right and left side. The metal chains groaned, and then snapped, and Thorar charged at the High Elf. An expression of true fear crossed the scrawny elf's face as Thorar lifted him up off the ground by the neck. Turning, he threw the lighter elf almost ten meters away, straight into the path of the dragon. The Thalmor got one last look at Thorar, who retorted back at the elf with a finger to the throat as well. Then the elf was engulfed in flames, and Thorar, grinning, turned back to see Ulfric and a few others escaping into a tower. Turning to face backwards again, he saw his companions standing around. "Don't just stand there, come on! This way." He yelled out, his Tenor voice carrying out over the crowd. He pointed at the Tower, and then ran in that direction.
     

    Sifu

    Seeker
    "Don't worry buddy... We will walk out of here alive, and when we do, you will find a three of clubs in your right pocket. I can already tell..." Mugen smirked, for all the pl*ps he gave the group he did have a soft spot for Gweezdo. "Heh, you and your damn cards," Mugen remarked in a joking tone. Behind him, Mugen could hear the first of the executions taking place. Some priest reciting rites as if it'd make a difference to the prisoners about to be executed in this cold, gods-forsaken place miles from home. Mugen shook his head and looked down, "Now look tough, can't let these Imperials think of us as soft, am I right?"

    Mugen looked back at Gweezdo, who was smiling despite the fact someone was about to lose their head not twenty feet away. "You bet your ass, man." He grinned devilishly, the way he often did whenever he was up to no good. Over at the block, the first of the prisoners was brought forth to the block and swiftly decapitated. The sound of that massive monstrosity of an axe coming down on the man's neck made Mugen's stomach tighten up into a knot.

    The next was an Altmer with the same face Mugen believed every High Elf had; an expression permanently twisted into some upturned, snobbish scowl which made him feel a distinct urge to wipe off their face.

    A strange and distant howl resounded throughout the sky, echoing throughout the stone streets of Helgen.

    "What was that?" Some lowly legionary inquired, eyes fixed on the sky.

    "It was nothing, carry on." A senior officer barked in an authoritative tone, much to the High Elf's dismay.

    Mugen raised an eyebrow, looking up towards the heavens.
    Definitely didn't sound like thunder... he thought to himself, scanning the pale grey clouds which hung above the town. Suddenly, an unmistakable dark shape caught his eye, barely visible through the overcast. Another howl let out, much louder this time. He squinted, unsure of what exactly he was seeing.

    And suddenly, it swooped down through the clouds, the dark shape taking the form of a massive dragon which was headed right towards them. Mugen's jaw dropped as the creature made a hard landing atop one of the spires overlooking the town square, sending chunks of rubble and debris raining down on everyone below.

    "What the f--"

    The dragon let loose a triumphant roar which nearly knocked Mugen off his feet. He barely had time to register what was going on before Sonnex backed into him and cried "We need to get out of here. Now!"
    "pl*ps, you don't have to tell me!" Mugen replied as he began to back away, his eyes still fixed on the dragon. For all it's destructive prowess, the creature was truly a magnificent sight to behold. Mugen found himself staring with complete and utter awe as it let loose a torrent of fire upon the legionaries amassed around the spire. Realizing it was time to move, Mugen turned, scrambling to find a way out as chaos ensued.

    Suddenly, the body of a Thalmor agent went flying overhead, the Elf letting out a bloodcurdling scream as he nearly knocked Mugen clean off his feet.
    "Whoah!" Mugen cried as he turned to see the Elf slam against the ground, right in the path of the dragon's flaming breath. Looking over, Mugen could see an unbound Throrar grinning mischievously. "Don't just stand there, come on! This way." The massive Nord cried, gesturing towards a distant tower. "Alright, let's move!" Mugen yelled as he took off towards the tower.
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    A dragon?!
    Vaerwen was amazed at the sight towering over her. Every terrified body, prisoner and captor alike, scrambled toward whatever safety they could find. Everyone seemed so panicked.
    The air was on fire.
    Thunder pounded the earth.
    Each Imperial and Thalmor that possessed so much control only moments ago, had it snatched from them in an instant. And this made Vaerwen happy.

    It was difficult for her to remember her anger, her fear, her sadness... An all-consuming amusement was filling her being.

    Then she saw him; the executioner. He was sprawled on the ground, covering his head like a coward.
    Without pause, Vaerwen sprinted over and pounced on his back, pulling her rope binds tightly against his throat.
    "Ah-ha! The irony!" Her voice carried with the dragon's blasts. "How does it feel?! Are you scared?!"
    The large man struggled underneath her for a short time before succumbing to her hold. It was not a glorious kill by any means. He was probably weakened by the shock he must've been feeling. But Vaerwen didn't mind. She felt no pride, only satisfaction.

    With her adrenaline pumping and her eyes wide with a child-like wonderment, she searched the chaos for her friends.

    "We need to get out of here. Now!"
    Vaerwen turned around to see Sonnex, Gweezdo and Mugen. She started to walk over to them, when she heard Thorar's voice calling from nearby.
    "Don't just stand there, come on! This way."
    Vaerwen smiled, noticing he was free of his binds.
    Good, she thought. Good for him.

    "Alright, let's move!" Mugen agreed.
    She hurried toward the tower with them, hesitating only to look back and smile at the massacre behind them.
    We're going to make it! she silently rejoiced before continuing in.
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    "You bet your ass, man." Alright, at least Mugen would be more relaxed before all of them met their Maker. Gweezdo, however, hardly had any time to reply, for the monstruous blade that the headsman wielded thundered against the frail neck of the first prisoner, his bright scarlet blood staining the floor around the chopping block. It was a gruesome sight to see, men who wished to free Skyrim, dying bound and helpless. The lucky ones were those who died as free men, like they truly desired. But still, war was war. Were there mercy to be shown, there wouldn't even be a battle to begin with. The next prisoner didn't exactly crawl to the block like the first one. In fact, this one almost paraded arrogantly towards it, hardly even caring about the strange noise that echoed from the mountain above them. It wasn't surprising for a high elf to behave arrogantly, and nobody among the prisoners seemed to care about his attitude any more than the guards, or even the Thalmor. The bandit, in fact, was more concerned about such a menacing, yet unfamiliar noise seeming so close to them. The Imperials differed, however.

    The Imperial Captain pressed her boot against the elf's back as his head was laid on the wooden, bloodied block, and the Headsman raised his axe once again. Gweezdo could feel its heft just from seeing it being slowly lifted. To him, the execution wasn't the worst part, but the fact that all had to watch each other die. The expectation of anguish and pain created fear among most of them, and that was where the cruelty of the Empire's mass executions was.

    The young imperial had already lost interest in the executions, and turned away from the sad scene that everyone in the town seemed so eager to witness. Helgen was beautiful, despite the countless troops and Thalmor sellouts in it. Part of Gweezdo felt sad that he never had the joys of a simpler life, spending one weeked inside an inn, gossiping about other people with as few cares in the world as his. But he had already recognized the criminal life as his choice, and it wouldn't be adequate to change his vocation during his own execution. Not to mention he wasn't completely saddened by his choices. It was thanks to those very choices that Gweezdo ended up meeting the gang of Cracked Tusk Keep, his true friends, whose value to him was beyond any loot he could find. "I regret nothing... It was a good run."

    Just as he finished his consolation thoughts, the strange thunderish noise was heard again, this time a lot closer. In fact, from closer range, to Gweezdo it did seem like a roar. The ground trembled, causing everyone to lose their balance and, before the imperial knew it, everyone was scattered around the settlement, looking for cover, like ants when their home is destroyed. He took a little longer to realize what was going on. On a tower, above the high elf prisoner, who had somehow survived that far, stood a dragon, dark as the night, roaring words that, to most, were mere nonsense, but held a powerful meaning nonetheless. It was as if the Gods themselves were pouring meteors from the sky, ablaze, crashing upon the fools of Helgen with such power that they seemed as angry as their summoner, the dragon. "We need to get out of here. Now!" Gweezdo heard Sonnex's voice behind him. Where would they go? There were three factions in that village, and none of them was particularly fond of the group. However, standing there was definitely not the way to go.

    The chaos had spread among the soldiers like a plague would among the unwashed, quickly and lethally. Gweezdo and chaos never went along very well. Not that all he was feeling was discomfort. No, never. Now, the young bandit was truly, and absolutely terrified. One thing was to die quickly, with his head rolling out of his body into the basket that the imperials had thoughtfully prepared for the occasion. Another, was getting thrown against a wall by a dragon's voice, getting roasted alive, and then getting hit by one of the fiery rocks that showered from the sky to finally end his misery.

    Thorar had managed to free himself before anyone else, something that actually relieved Gweezdo, since his binds seemed a lot more uncomfortable than theirs, which were, by no means, pleasant to have around the wrists. He threw a Thalmor into the flames with a satisfied grin, due to, perhaps, being bound in his chains for too long. "Don't just stand there, come on! This way." The bulky man pointed towards one of the keep's towers, their number narrowing as the dragon demolished what it could with a wrath never seen in any human. "Alright, let's move!" Mugen followed up, their thoughts and actions moving at an equal pace, giving them hardly any room for mistakes. Gweezdo was still bound, like probably everyone in the group asides from Thorar, and he wanted to get rid of his ropes as soon as he could, just like his father had taught him. Quickly checking a mental list of the members of the group, the imperial tried to keep up with his faster, more athletic peers, like his life depended on it, which, in fact, was the case. "I saw what you did back there..." He confessed Vaerwen. During the whole time, Gweezdo had thought the 'I kill the executioner' thing was just a joke. The man was probably just doing his job, so, to him, there weren't really any reasons to prioritize him as a target to kill.

    While the group got closer to the tower, Gweezdo's eyes were caught by a powerful light, a meteor, that crashed straight against a legionnaire's thorax, putting an end to him coldly and quickly. On his corpse, the rock still stood ablaze, its heat being so intense, it hissed and distorted the sight of any who looked at the area around it. That was a plan. A foolish one, but a plan. Gweezdo knew the archers were keeping the beast occupied, and felt like he had a chance. Silently, he left the group, sprinting towards the corpse with all the agility he could muster. In the man's sheath was an Imperial Sword, the common brand most imperials wielded in battle. Trapping its hilt between his bound wrists, the panicking bandit managed to pull the blade out of the corpse. All his brain could think was: "Quick, quick, quick, quick, quick, quick, quick! You're gonna die!" but it didn't stop him or slow down his terrified sprint as he tried to catch up with the group he wished he had never left in the first place.

    He extended the stolen blade to his muscled friend, the one he knew for sure to be unbound. "Thorar... can you...? Well... Cut us free once we are safe?"
     

    Orien Terrik

    "Arik tree'ac te kek."
    Thorar took the Imperial sword. It looked like a butter knife in his hand. It was actually quite comical looking. Cutting the bonds off of Gweezdo, he turned, and began sprinting, slicing through the bonds of his other companions fairley quickly as he rushed by them, freeing them all. Keeping the sword in his hand, he continued to the tower. As he made his way inside, Ulfric and his lieutenant were both sitting there, arguing about what to do next, as they tended to a wounded Stormcloak. Thorar slouched a bit, as he began to relax a little. His adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and now there was some fear in his eyes, but he couldn't let it show. He had to remain strong and brave, so that he could help his family escape this madness. Turning back to the doorway to the tower, his other companions, who were still trying to fogure out what was going one, although a few seemed to realize the Tower was the current safe haven, he yelled out: "Hurry! Hurry!" Into the ensuing chaos, beckoning his friends to hurry to the tower.
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    "I saw what you did back there..."
    Vaerwen heard Gweezdo say as they approached the tower.
    She only had time to smile before he darted off in another direction. She wasn't necessarily proud of her accomplishment, but she was glad somebody saw it. That way she couldn't write it off later as her own imaginings. Sadly, that was a possibility for her.
    Gweezdo returned with an Imperial sword, offering it to Thorar. The large Nord used it to quickly slash through everyone's bindings before ducking into the tower.
    "Hurry! Hurry!" he called out to them.

    Rubbing her free wrists, Vaerwen rushed to his side. Inside, the stone walls of the tower did little to muffle the sound of danger just beyond. They couldn't stay here for long, but it did offer them a chance to regroup.

    Vaerwen looked around with wild eyes, suppressing the urge to laugh.
    Exciting!
    She barely noticed Ulfric Stormcloak and a few of his soldiers shared the space with them. Her heart was pounding; mind racing.
    Where next? Where next?
    ...


    Stairs!
    A spiral staircase led up through the tower. How being at the top of a most likely doomed tower was any better than the bottom was yet to be seen. But they didn't have much of a choice.
    It appeared a few of the Stormcloaks had the same realization. Vaerwen watched as one ran up the stairs, followed by one more and an Altmer in rags. The same one that was seconds from decapitation when the dragon saved them, it seemed.

    Should we follow?
    Her thought was answered with a blast of stone and fire from above, and a man's death cry.
    Nope.

    Still high on adrenaline and optimism, Vaerwen turned to her comrades wearing an unintentionally devilish grin.
    "What now?"
    She glanced over at Ulfric and his remaining men, who didn't seem to notice the bandits' presence.
    Wonder where he's going to go?
     

    Sifu

    Seeker
    Mugen grinned in satisfaction as Throrar sliced through his binds, freeing his hands. "Thanks, big guy." He quipped as he rubbed the red marks along his wrists, chaffed raw by the rope binding. However, he didn't have time to relax now that he was unbound. The dragon roared overhead, and Mugen felt the intense heat of its flames as it passed above in a flurry of fire.

    "Hurry! Hurry!" Throrar boomed in his deep, imposing tone. Mugen began to make a beeline towards the tower alongside his companions, when a sudden realization struck him.

    "... No name."

    He uttered, suddenly remembering his sword. "No name" was the official title he had bestowed upon a steel longsword he had carried with him since he left his home on the Gold Coast. Formally, the blade was known as "The Sword With No Name," which he had ingeniously come up with after spending about an hour thinking of cool names for his sword. In that moment, one thing was made readily apparent: there was no way Mugen was leaving Helgen without that sword, fire-breathing dragons be damned.

    He made a 180, turning his back on his friends and the tower as he took off towards the wagon they had arrived in. He had no idea where exactly his blade was, or who confiscated it during his capture, but he took a wild guess that the sword was somewhere on that wagon. The wagon sat there unharmed, looking almost comical with the pandemonium going on all around it. Mugen sprinted as fast as he could, bounding over burning rubble and debris with long strides as he inched closer and closer.

    The dragon made another pass above, reaching out with its black talons and smashing through a section of the town's walls, sending flaming debris and the helpless bodies of Imperial archers flying. The massive chunks of rubble barely missed the wagon, which remained undisturbed for a moment before a screaming legionary slammed against the side of the cart. He collided with a hard thud which nearly tipped the wagon over, before crumpling to the dirt.

    "Sorry pal." Mugen remarked as he leapt over the corpse, grabbing the side of the cart and vaulting over. He stood there in the back of the wagon for a moment, looking towards the front of the cart where the carriage driver was. His eyes fell upon a small, footlocker-style crate. "Aha!" he exclaimed as he forced the chest open, revealing everything that had been confiscated from his group, among the items inside was his precious No Name.

    He took hold of the sword, a fine blade forged from steel with an ornate, golden hilt with a handguard which was flared outwards. For a moment, he admired the sword he held so dear, when suddenly the roar of the dragon brought him back to the reality of the situation. He slammed the chest filled with the rest of the group's weapons shut before picking it up with one hand while holding No Name in the other.

    "Son of a bitch, this thing is heavy." He exclaimed as he struggled to hold onto the crate while sprinting towards the tower. His friends were now out of sight, and Mugen hoped that they had found safety within the tower. He crossed the town's square, leaping and ducking through flame and rubble as he scaled the stone stairway leading to the tower. His lungs screaming and his legs ready to give out from beneath him, he nearly collapsed as he made it through the open doorway.

    Dropping to his knees, he placed the footlocker on the ground before his companions. "All your stuff's in there." He said in between heavy breaths, slowly recovering. "You can thank me later, flames almost singed my--"

    Mugen paused as he looked up and saw Ulfric Stormcloak and one of his lackeys in the same room. Immediately, Mugen stood up and pointed his sword towards them.

    "Hey!"

    Ulfric stopped what he was doing to face Mugen, who was covered in blood and blackened soot and was holding his sword as if he meant to challenge the Jarl of Windhelm.

    "Y'know, if you had just let us rob you we wouldn't even be in this mess. But you just had to fight back with way more troops than we expected. Now we're stuck in this burning building while a firebreathing dragon flies around outside waiting to kill us!"

    Mugen smirked, feeling satisfied with himself.

    "You better have some coin on you, old man."
     

    Aerin

    IOK's Token Brit
    "Y'know, if you had just let us rob you we wouldn't even be in this mess. But you just had to fight back with way more troops than we expected. Now we're stuck in this burning building while a fire breathing dragon flies around outside waiting to kill us!"

    This was precisely why Sonnex liked Mugen. When faced with the man who called himself the High King of Skyrim, he chastised the jarl for not allowing their motley band of brigands to rob from him.

    Sonnex was quickly trying to slip into their poisons belt, the old leather cinching easily about their waist and shoulders. Once armed, trusty killing knife in hand Sonnex hopped up behind Mugen.

    Standing as tall as Mugen's armpit, and missing part of their left eyebrow thanks to the dragon, Sonnex was aware that they hardly looked threatening. Waving the knife in the air Sonnex tried to exude an air of insanity. It usually worked when all else failed.

    "You better have some coin on you, old man."

    "Consider it payment for fire damage, seems only fair. Maybe if you're generous we'll slit a few imperial throats on the way out." Hopping from one foot to the other Sonnex felt their blood heat, her heart hammering behind their chest as the scorching heat of dragon fire lapped at the stone tower, the sounds of screams and roars reaching a deafening volume. Spitting out a mouthful of blood and soot the tiny bandit rolled their shoulders, seemingly bored with the interaction, sharp eyes darting upwards to the stairs that very well might lead to their escape. The elf was there. Stupid poncy elf. Sonnex yanked their mask down and growled, looking wholly feral and possibly mad, stained teeth bared behind lips that were chapped and bloody. Satisfyingly enough the elf recoiled in horror or disgust, it mattered not to Sonnex, just seeing that small crack in their solemn mask was enough to bring a small amount of joy to the bandit.

    In their excitement and blood lust Sonnex's right hand was already wrapped around a round phial of a strange, murky green liquid. Their nimble fingers were poised, ready to pluck the noxious liquid from it's place on Sonnex's belt. Running a tongue over their top row of teeth, Sonnex looked up at Mugen and then back to the others. Over the few years they had worked together, the group had soon realised that Sonnex was at least a little bit unhinged, and was far too eager to blow everything up, just because they could. So through a lengthy process of negative reinforcement, they had trained their alchemist to only throw the strange bottles of smoke and fire and ice after they had been given explicit permission. This was a plan that had been put into motion after a particularly memorable raid had ended with an old ruin crashing down upon them whilst Sonnex cackled gleefully at the hagraven that now lay crushed under the rubble.
     

    Writes-Many-Posts

    Champion of Grottos and Gremlins
    The ropes fell on the tower's cold floor, one at a time, becoming as powerless as the person they once held bound. Gweezdo spun his wrists a little and warmed up his fingers through the clutch of imaginary objects. Before he knew it, Mugen had already dispersed from the group, going after whatever he deemed to be worth more than his own life. They had just managed to escape their execution and he was already running into more trouble, although that was a sin none of them had never committed. The imperial took a while to notice his friend was headed towards the carriage on which they had been brought to Helgen. Whatever it was that he had gone through all that trouble to get his hands on, had to be worth something, and it looked heavy to say the least.

    Gweezdo held the door open so Mugen could crawl inside, just before he fell on his knees and dropped the heavy crate he somehow managed to carry all the way to their haven. Fortunately, it wasn't locked, at least, not anymore. The rusty old padlock had been broken open, and although he was 87% sure it had been Mugen to do it, Gweezdo could not really pretend to know what had happened to that unfortunate lock. "All your stuff's in there. You can thank me later..."

    The bandits gathered around the open chest like wolf cubs pile on a dead grazer. Each took out weapons, impressive in their own way, but Gweezdo had no violence tool to retrieve from the imperials. He didn't possess any sort of mace, sword, axe, slingshot or whip to defend himself, and it felt rather embarrassing for a bandit not to have a thing to kill more things. However, it would be ten times worse if everyone saw Gweezdo wielding a demonic blade that could swallow its enemies, only to realize there were cows in Whiterun that would use it more effectively. This did not mean that the Empire hadn't taken anything from him once he was arrested. Quite the opposite, in fact. They took something that, to Gweezdo, would always be worth more than any weapon. Trapped in the corner of the wooden box, between all those spikes and sharp blades, was a golden amulet. Gweezdo knew it to be false, worth less than a pair of rat-eaten shoes, but its true worth was the identity it gave him. Earning it as a birthday gift from his adopted father, the necklace with an eye drawing carved in it, Gweezdo would be allowed in the market beneath Solitude, in its sewers, where the most bloodthirsty and cruel piles of scum in Skyrim lurk, eat and kill each other without any law holding them back, the Kelkris Market. Well, he would be allowed inside it as a bandit, but he would still get killed due to the angry men and women inside to who he owed money. The point was: his necklace changed the cause of his death were he to set foot again in the Kelkris Market. The amulet wasn't about what it allowed Gweezdo to do either way. What truly made Gweezdo want that amulet was the fact that it was all that he had left from his father once he was alive.

    As he remembered the trips to Kelkris, his childhood, and his father's teachings of the tricks of the trade, Gweezdo put the necklace on slowly, below his modest clothes, almost missing his friends' attempt to rob a man whose army was probably spread out across that very town. Like most of his kind, that man was not fond of the rebellion, even after its enemies had tried to chop his head off. Ulfric was portayed as selfish and cowardly most of the time his name was brought up in Gweezdo's life, and his thoughts of the man didn't stray too far from that. The true worry wasn't them being outnumbered by Stormcloaks, or the fact that a BLOODY dragon was storming their tower, and it would probably not last very long before falling as well. The real problem, was Sonnex grasping a strange substance with his right hand. Despite not knowing what it was, the day for Sonnex to pull out of his belt a fragrance that wasn't combustible was still to come, and the day that one of his potions didn't endanger everyone nearby was too yet to arrive. A conflict, at that moment, would certainly not end well, for any of them, and Gweezdo immediately tried to sound as pacified as he could, when he stood between his friends and the nords, who were already unsheathing their blades. "Ahem... Gentlemen, I think we have more... pressing concerns." The earth shook just after he finished talking, emphasizing his words to a new level of persuasion.
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    "All your stuff's in there. You can thank me later..."

    Vaerwen's eyes lit up even more, which was somehow possible.
    "Thank you, Mumu!" she chirped happily, ignoring Mugen's suggestion. She rummaged with the rest of them through the box, swiping up her trusty daggers. The blades were elegantly curved, swooping away from the crudely bound leather handles. The dark metal resembled ebony, but Vaerwen convinced herself that it couldn't be. In comparison to it, the basic and blood-stained grips looked even more rudimentary.

    She'd heard Mugen mumbling something about robbing and troops and being stuck in a burning building, only after a while realizing she should be paying attention. She looked up from her weapons in time to see Sonnex had found theirs.
    Ooh, fun! she thought, eyeing the phial Sonnex seemed ready to use.

    The ambiguous bandit appeared to be looking back at the group for permission.
    Vaerwen nodded in approval and anticipation. Do it! she hoped.

    "Ahem... Gentlemen," Gweezdo spoke up. "I think we have more... pressing concerns."
    Vaerwen glared at him.
    "Boring!" she barked, knowing he was probably making more sense than anyone else there. He usually did.
    She slipped her daggers into their little sheaths on either side of her hips, submitting to logic. While taking Ulfric Stormcloak's things would be satisfying at that moment, a victory swiftly followed by death wasn't really a victory in that situation. She had to remember, despite all the excitement, that death was still a big possibility.

    The ground trembled furiously, making the stairs look appealing once again. Vaerwen had only heard one man's cry, after all. And two others had followed. Where were they?
    Curiosity got the better of her as she climbed the first few steps, craning her neck to see whatever she could of the tower above.
    Light?
    She glanced back at her group, but it appeared they hadn't followed her thought process.

    Throwing caution to the wind, as she so often did, Vaerwen quickly bounded up the spiral stairs until they ended in an impassible pile of debris. A single dead Stormcloak lay beneath some rocks.

    And an enormous opening to the outside world had been blasted through the stone wall.

    Vaerwen suddenly felt conflicted. Was this the way to safety? It could just as easily lead to more danger. Should she check it out first to make sure it wouldn't get her friends killed? No, what if I can't make it back to them to let them know? Were they even really finished with Ulfric? They could be following through right now and I'm missing it!
    Her little internal argument lasted all of ten seconds before she, quite frustrated with herself, shouted downward to the others.
    "THERE'S A HOLE!"
    Her voice echoed off the tower walls, traveling to the bottom.
    Maybe one of them would make a decision for her.
     

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