Harkatti
Sorceress Supreme!
Elwyn wiped her bloody blade on the cloak of fallen bandit and sheathed the weapon. Her blood still rushed in her ears and she felt a chill run over her skin as adrenaline coursed through her. She surveyed the battlefield noting the corpses of the ambushers. It was clear from the bodycount that their attackers had underestimated the mercenary company. A quick glance around revealed that all but one of her companions were still on their feet. The robed man and the earless bosmer were both knelt by the young imperial girl. The altmer woman frowned-she hadn't noticed the bandits near their rear. She couldn't see any blood on the snow, but Elwyn knew from experience that the most serious wounds did not always show on the surface. The former aldmeri agent saw that the khajiit assassin, Athara, was still on her feet, and she couldn't suppress a relieved smile. The assassin was certainly an interesting individual, and she would have regretted it if the woman had died before they had a chance to become better acquainted.
Cyrius watched the hulking orc dripping with the remnants of his victims with some mixture of both horror and disgust. The orc fought with no skill to be seen, merely smashing his way through the enemy. And the name he invoked...the vampire felt a shiver of revulsion shake his body, and he sneered as he shouldered past the orc. A dangerous move, he knew. Vampire or not he was not invulnerable and a mace to the back of the head would seriously hamper him. If not kill him outright. The imperial made his way over to where Thalien, Var'hess the hooded shadow that followed them, and the man with the dog mask stood over an unconscious bandit, apparently the leader of the outlaws. The masked one was voicing concerns about the bandits coming back in greater numbers, while the captain of their band of cuttthroats was stating that there were some questions the chief needed to answer.
His thin lips curling in barely contained glee, Cyrius joined them "leave the questioning to me, captain. I guarantee it will not take long before we have answers. Some, at any rate." Thalien frowned at him, but nodded slightly, granting his permission. With strength that seemed out of place on his thin frame, Cyrius hauled the bandit leader off a short distance. He lengthened the mans bindings so that the leather cord that bound his wrists wrapped around the trunk of one of the many evergreen trees that made up the forest. The icy mixture of rain and snow brought the bandit back into the realm of conciousness. Something the man would quickly be regretting.
"I hope you enjoyed your rest" Cyrius said conversationally, "you won't be getting much more of it, I'm afraid."
The bandit was quite handsome, for a nord. A strong chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes, partially hidden by long blonde hair. Out of his armour, muscles were clearly defined through the soaked tunic he wore. The man, hearing his words, grunted and spat at the vampires' feet. "I'm not afraid of you. Damned imperial coward."
"You know, I was really hoping you'd say that" the designated interrogator admitted with a wicked smile, drawing the flaying knife he kept at the small of his back. The weak sunlight gleamed off the cold steel of the blade. Something that drew the humans' eyes like a moth to a flame. "Now, let us see what you are hiding." A quick stroke of the blade parted the tunic, revealing the flesh beneath.
The nord chuckled "if you hope to bed me imperial, you'll have to work on your looks. You're pretty, but not that pretty."
"Charmed. I must admit, you and your band are very well equipped for common bandits. Steel and iron armour of good quality is a rarity in Skyrim these days."
The other mans eyes narrowed "I don't know anything. Nothing you could use, anyways."
The instant the nord stopped speaking, the vampires' wrist flicked, and a fine, red line appeared on the mans cheek. The nord swore violently, and strained against his bonds. "Blasted coward! Untie me and we'll see how good you are with that letter opener!"
"Temper,temper" Cyrius admonished, wagging his finger infront of the mans face like a disapproving parent. The knife flicked out again, creating a parallel line on the humans other cheek. Predictably, this brought on another stream of invective, most of them directed at Cyrius' parentage. "Now, I haven't got all day. Let us start with your name."
The man snarled, baring his teeth, but eyed the blade in Cyrius' hand warily. "Brom. Brom Horegsson."
"See? You do know things. Now. About your supplier..."
"Ha! You underestimate the sons of the north, dog. I'll tell you nothing."
Cyrius' blade flickered in the weak light once more, this time opening a long cut on the nords side, over the ribs. "I like to think of myself as a reasonable man. Tell me what I wish to know, and you need not suffer."
In response, the nord spat again, this time striking Cyrius just below his right eye. Slowly, with a very deliberate motion, he wiped the spittle away, and nodded. "Have it your way then." And went to work, blade moving almost faster than the eye could follow. Soon, the snow around the tree Brom Horegsson, one time leader of a bandit warband, was red with blood, and the forest echoed with his screams. By the time Cyrius had finished, the flesh had been flayed off the mans entire torso, leaving red muscles exposed to the cold air. And the man told him everything the vampire wanted to know.
When his questioning was finished, Cyrius slashed the nords throat, leaving his body to thrash uselessly against the tree he was bound to. He licked the blood from his blade before sheathing it and returning to the group. "Thalien. Our friend had some interesting answers to my questions. As it happens, his group is not the only one working in Skyrim. A substantial force has built up in the ruins of Windhelm, under some lord or jarl calling themselves the 'iron wolf'. I imagine the imperial garrison would pay quite handsomely for the information. "
Cyrius watched the hulking orc dripping with the remnants of his victims with some mixture of both horror and disgust. The orc fought with no skill to be seen, merely smashing his way through the enemy. And the name he invoked...the vampire felt a shiver of revulsion shake his body, and he sneered as he shouldered past the orc. A dangerous move, he knew. Vampire or not he was not invulnerable and a mace to the back of the head would seriously hamper him. If not kill him outright. The imperial made his way over to where Thalien, Var'hess the hooded shadow that followed them, and the man with the dog mask stood over an unconscious bandit, apparently the leader of the outlaws. The masked one was voicing concerns about the bandits coming back in greater numbers, while the captain of their band of cuttthroats was stating that there were some questions the chief needed to answer.
His thin lips curling in barely contained glee, Cyrius joined them "leave the questioning to me, captain. I guarantee it will not take long before we have answers. Some, at any rate." Thalien frowned at him, but nodded slightly, granting his permission. With strength that seemed out of place on his thin frame, Cyrius hauled the bandit leader off a short distance. He lengthened the mans bindings so that the leather cord that bound his wrists wrapped around the trunk of one of the many evergreen trees that made up the forest. The icy mixture of rain and snow brought the bandit back into the realm of conciousness. Something the man would quickly be regretting.
"I hope you enjoyed your rest" Cyrius said conversationally, "you won't be getting much more of it, I'm afraid."
The bandit was quite handsome, for a nord. A strong chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes, partially hidden by long blonde hair. Out of his armour, muscles were clearly defined through the soaked tunic he wore. The man, hearing his words, grunted and spat at the vampires' feet. "I'm not afraid of you. Damned imperial coward."
"You know, I was really hoping you'd say that" the designated interrogator admitted with a wicked smile, drawing the flaying knife he kept at the small of his back. The weak sunlight gleamed off the cold steel of the blade. Something that drew the humans' eyes like a moth to a flame. "Now, let us see what you are hiding." A quick stroke of the blade parted the tunic, revealing the flesh beneath.
The nord chuckled "if you hope to bed me imperial, you'll have to work on your looks. You're pretty, but not that pretty."
"Charmed. I must admit, you and your band are very well equipped for common bandits. Steel and iron armour of good quality is a rarity in Skyrim these days."
The other mans eyes narrowed "I don't know anything. Nothing you could use, anyways."
The instant the nord stopped speaking, the vampires' wrist flicked, and a fine, red line appeared on the mans cheek. The nord swore violently, and strained against his bonds. "Blasted coward! Untie me and we'll see how good you are with that letter opener!"
"Temper,temper" Cyrius admonished, wagging his finger infront of the mans face like a disapproving parent. The knife flicked out again, creating a parallel line on the humans other cheek. Predictably, this brought on another stream of invective, most of them directed at Cyrius' parentage. "Now, I haven't got all day. Let us start with your name."
The man snarled, baring his teeth, but eyed the blade in Cyrius' hand warily. "Brom. Brom Horegsson."
"See? You do know things. Now. About your supplier..."
"Ha! You underestimate the sons of the north, dog. I'll tell you nothing."
Cyrius' blade flickered in the weak light once more, this time opening a long cut on the nords side, over the ribs. "I like to think of myself as a reasonable man. Tell me what I wish to know, and you need not suffer."
In response, the nord spat again, this time striking Cyrius just below his right eye. Slowly, with a very deliberate motion, he wiped the spittle away, and nodded. "Have it your way then." And went to work, blade moving almost faster than the eye could follow. Soon, the snow around the tree Brom Horegsson, one time leader of a bandit warband, was red with blood, and the forest echoed with his screams. By the time Cyrius had finished, the flesh had been flayed off the mans entire torso, leaving red muscles exposed to the cold air. And the man told him everything the vampire wanted to know.
When his questioning was finished, Cyrius slashed the nords throat, leaving his body to thrash uselessly against the tree he was bound to. He licked the blood from his blade before sheathing it and returning to the group. "Thalien. Our friend had some interesting answers to my questions. As it happens, his group is not the only one working in Skyrim. A substantial force has built up in the ruins of Windhelm, under some lord or jarl calling themselves the 'iron wolf'. I imagine the imperial garrison would pay quite handsomely for the information. "