Fandom The Clairvoyants

[Hel]

ÁdísLocation: Four Sheilds Inn, Dragonbridge
Mentions: DovahBeat Wylrin

Ádís listened as the imperials spoke, she was a little bit surprised that the imperials had caught their destination. She had thought they'd get away without a larger group, but when the offer was extended she knew that any answer that rejected their offer would be suspicious at best. When Fenn agreed to travel with them, Ádís gave a nod of agreement to both her companion and the soldiers before her. At least, she thought, the group seemed like they would be an enjoyable taste of home to travel with. Fennorian would undoubtedly be uncomfortable with these new additions to their group,

"We'd be thankful for the extra blades, I know the road to Solitude isn't very long from here but it seems there are always hidden dangers this far north," Ádís said, adding to Fennorian's comment. "Though if you'd prefer to travel without the extra burden I'm sure we couldn't blame you."

 

[Wylrin]

"Burden? Nah!" Bear insisted with a wave of his hand. "You're hardly an imposition!"

"Just one condition," said the commander. A few beats of silence, then he turned to Bear, saying, "No roughhousing with the civilians."

"Have I ever--"

"Yes." Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to Fennorian and Ádís, saying, "We may not be guardsmen, but the protection of our citizens is our priority. Even if the journey is short, there's little sense in splitting up when we're both heading in the same direction. It would be our pleasure to see you to Solitude."

Hawkeye met the commander's gaze. A sort of understanding passed between them, to which the scout crossed the inn, murmuring to Bear, "No mead," as he passed him by. Before the gargantuan man could protest, he had already slipped out the door.

"Songbird, why don't you track down our little High Elf friend?" the commander suggested. "Tell him we'll be leaving sooner than expected."

"Oh, sure!" he said, gathering his instruments before heading out the door himself.

With fewer people in the inn, Cassius deemed it appropriate to ask, "Might I ask what your business is in Solitude? If it's classified, well, I've been there and done that, so no worries."

DovahBeat Hel

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Hel Wylrin
Fenn smiled softly at the exchange between Bear and his Commander, finding it amusing in all honesty, but also grateful that there would be no rough housing. It reminded him of a few friends of his and Adis's, old friends. They were long gone by now, but such was the result of being mortal, and yourself immortal.
Bringing himself out of his thoughts just in time for Cassius's question he hesitated before answering, coming up with not a complete lie.
"Our final destination is not actually Solitude, we'll just be stopping there along the way. It's been a long time since we've been to Western Skyrim, we thought we might as well do some sightseeing, too. After that, we have a meeting with another noble family." He answered smoothly, purposefully keeping certain details vague.

 

[Effloresce]

Aela's swiftness with the blade and agile ferocity earned her the upper hand in a contest of dazzling skill that plied her strengths against his, silver on skyforge steel clashed in a sparkling match of wills. The dawnguard warrior was pushed back, taking strikes that spelled his end if unguarded by his embracing plate armour. Aela's intense bloodlusted grin was making way to a more humbled level of resolve.

In the the intensity of the hunt such ceaseless aggression is a boundless strength; for a wolf did not tire.

But Aela the Huntress did.

The wolf still slumbered and the woman's muscles burned in protest of the flurry she rained on her opponent. A man like Vilkas could fight with such rage for a day, but it was not--and had never been--her way. The relic at her back was once her rock. A lifetime of fighting honed her strength, she battled with a slow and methodical precision, sweeping blows aside with shield in hand and battering the foe down through a contest of attrition.

Her natural agility and skill was all she had to go on without it, instinct ruled supreme in the face of non-existent strategy. She'd meant to overwhelm the hunter, but her failure to do so--no matter how close--was a costly endeavour.

Her breaths were heavier, a disjointed ragged pattern of light wheezing, then she struck out again in a valiant slice that was intercepted by his blade. A moment of stifling silence gripped the air between hunter and prey. Then his parry darted along deft feet, he was swept forth by practiced momentum. Aela's blade was hooked away and she stumbled onto her backfoot with glassy eyed surprise, though it lingered for only a moment as his blade pierced her guard. The Huntress desperately weaved a path along it's sheening silver edge, the loud grinding of his sword scraping her armoured waistguard was all she needed to know she'd underestimated him. If not for the Nordic steel hugging her waist and thighs, she would be dead or dying--or at the very least fatally injured.

Aela's emotions were beginning to curtail under the surprise of his comeback and irritation at her own sloppiness. With a heaving chest laboured by ragged breaths she was beginning to slip into a familiar sense of blood-red, her limbs were spent, a prolonged melee was falling out of her favour.

The wolf was waking and the familiar sensation of heightening senses sent excitement and fear in equal measure sizzling along her spine. She loved nothing more than to embrace Hircine's gifts, but without control...

Or it would have.

A horn whistling like a carrion's call bellowed from the hills, Aela dared snap her attention from the dawnguard to spy her confirmed fears.

A Forsworn horn. And they were approaching with fangs bared and blood in their eyes.

Whisker explosiveKitten Wylrin

 

[Hel]

ÁdísLocation: Four Sheilds Inn
Mentions: DovahBeat Wylrin

Ádís, too, couldn't help but smile at the interaction between Bear and Hawkeye. It was very familiar, oh how she had missed Skyrim. She watched as the one they called Songbird was sent out to fetch the High Elf who's name Ádís now realized that she must have missed. She let Fenn explain their purpose here, and nodded in agreement once he finished. That was the gist of their purpose here. She turned her eyes to Cassius,

"You don't think that your fourth companion will put up much argument about our joining you, do you?" Ádís asked, she wasn't trying to change their plans at this point, but she was curious about the high elf's disposition, and if they would be the source of another tiff. "He seemed to be eager to leave, so I'm sure that he'll be happy to hear that timeline is being expedited."

 

[Wylrin]

"Teatime with the nobles, eh?" Bear asked. Shrugging, he said, "To each his own. Never was much my style." Of course, his style might have entirely consisted of bashing skulls or shaping hot metal. Simply put, chatting with aristocrats was not his idea of a good time.

At the question from Ádís - or, more accurately, the mention of the Thalmor agent - the commander had to keep from grimacing. Taking a moment to choose his words, he said, "So long as we're moving, I don't think he'll take issue if you accompany us."

"What's his hurry anyway, you think?" the Nord asked.

"He probably wants to head back to the embassy," Cassius surmised. "Teatime with his superiors, maybe."

Bear probably would have made some sort of joke about that, but the door to the inn opening effectively silenced him. Songbird poked his head in, saying, "He's ready to go, if you all are." Gesturing behind him with a thumb, he continued, "Hawkeye's on the bridge. I don't think he's spotted anything."

"Good," said the commander. "Maybe things will actually go smoothly for once." Turning to the civilians they were to escort, he felt it necessary to say, "One last thing. For if we do run into hostiles, I need to know what your capabilities are in combat."

"The commander takes tactics very seriously," Bear told them.

"I just don't want to be startled by a frost atronach if it's one of our own," he said. "We've gotten used to atronachs since Ruender's been assigned to the contingent, but I don't want spells going every which way without expecting it first."

---

Despite his attempts to dissuade his people, here they were advancing on the two combatants like a pack of wild hounds. Unlike his fellows, who had their weapons raised as they charged, Edwynak's hands were nowhere near his weapon, instead spread out away from his body, almost raised as if in surrender.

"This isn't the way!" he called. How he hated doing that, raising his voice, but he had to make sure he was heard over the stampeding of feet and what would no doubt be the clashing of steel against wood and bone. A small part of him wondered why he bothered. He had already failed in his mission the moment that horn sounded and the Forsworn began their descent upon their targets.

There was no going back now, and yet still he tried to reverse the damage about to be done.

All throughout the battle, his voice would pervade.

DovahBeat Hel Whisker Effloresce explosiveKitten

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Hel Wylrin
Fenn nodded, understanding. That sounded reasonable, telling them of their skills.
"I'm not much of a fighter, I'll admit. I have held my own in a few skirmishes, but in a group I'm better off healing from a distance. Adis is also a healer, though she's much better at fighting than I am." Fennorian answered, keeping their vampire abilities out of the conversation and letting Adis decide if she wanted to explain her necromantic skills. They wouldn't be using their vampiric powers around this bunch anyways.
"We're ready to leave when you are. Assuming Adis is ready?" He turned to his partner, waiting for her response.

 

[Whisker]

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 5:06 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Hunt


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Quest Completion
​

His sword struck a line of sparks along her belly, glancing off the waistguard and missing the sweet spot in her armor by less than half an inch. She fell backwards and away from him, and for a brief second or two he saw her expression change from grim outward certainty to panic.

Despite the taste of blood in his mouth, Decimus couldn't help but smile in satisfaction.

"Close shave," he taunted, taking the brief lull for an opportunity to wipe the cut off on his sleeve. "Just a little higher and I would've gut you like a roast pig."

Of course, the smile did not last for long. It faded quickly into something far more serious as the Imperial returned to his combat stance, extending the long silver blade out in front of him in clear defiant challenge.

"Give it up," Decimus advised her, his tone soft this time. "Do you really think you're going to be able to beat me without surrendering to Hircine first?"

His stark blue eyes narrowed in wait for her response. Though his words were delivered calmly, the truth of the matter was that every fiber of his being was wary and on the alert. He'd gotten a close shave, but he was in no way fooled. Her whole demeanor radiated experience and power. Had he really seen all she was capable of yet?

Decimus was still trying to figure out when suddenly something, or more accurately, someone interrupted his thoughts.

"My money is on the werewolf!"

"What in the —?"

Crinkling his brow in slow disbelief, the imperial's eyes darted sideward to the rock he had once used for shelter. There, sitting on it, with features plastered into what he surmised to be a shit-eating grin was a sleek grey Khajiit. How long it had been there, Decimus could not tell. But it must have been awhile if it knew the circumstances of his quarry's affliction. Or . . . maybe . . . just maybe . . . Delrik was full of shit and the Companion wasn't as alone as he'd been led to believe?

However, there was really no time to ask and find out what was what. Before he could so much as blink, a horn bellowed from somewhere down below, and the still evening air became pieced by the sudden enraged howls of Forsworn. Arrows came zipping by to pepper the hillside just short of their range. Any closer and they would surely begin to find their marks if they continued to stand so out in the open. But even so, Decimus continued to stand in place indecisively, his gaze flickering from the Forsworn to the Huntress and back again.

It had taken him days to set up this Hunt. If he lost her now, he may never have another chance to catch her so off-guard again. But if he waited any longer, the Forsworn would be upon them both, and she had not been wrong in her earlier assessment. Werewolf or Hunter, the Forsworn did not discriminate. They would certainly kill them both if they had the chance. And their strange onlooker, too, no doubt.

"Oh for Talos' sake . . ."

It looked as though there were no choice in the matter after all.

QUEST UPDATED: Kill the Forsworn
​

Wylrin Effloresce explosiveKitten

 

[explosiveKitten]

Whoops! Apparently somebody heard her.

The man in the plate armor swung his head around to look at her where she sat with her bottle of mead and shit-eating grin. He stared at her, bewildered, as she used one of her claws as a cork screw to pop the mead bottle open, before tossing the cork off to the side and raising it in a mock toast to him and his short-lived life. That’s what happens when you fight werewolves, she often found. Then she took a deep swig from the bottle, smacking her lips and licking her pale muzzle with her tongue.

Not phased by her detection, she waved coyly at him as the fight continued and she relaxed from the rock, occasionally throwing out a whoop or holler. But soon her ears managed to catch something nearby- Lots of feet, pounding across the grass in a massive herd.

“Oh no.”
She turned to look in the direction of those feet, her ears upright and turned in that direction.
“That’s not good.”
The sound of screaming and a war horn cut through the air.
“Oh they will not like that I took all their stuff.”
She stood up, just barely able to pick out the many, many scantily clad bodies moving in their direction.
“Ooooooh, but maybe the Briar Heart is in that mob!”
She turned to look at the two combatants and gestured with her chin in that direction as the Imperial finally seemed to notice the war horn.

“That sure looks like fun, doesn’t it? Ughhhh, I have just been dying for some entertainment these days!”
She stood up and pulled out a poison vial out of her bag, once again using a claw as a corkscrew to take the stopper out before sticking her fingers in one by one and throughly poisoning her claws to add a little more bite to her fight.

“How about you two call off the fight for a minute and deal with the mutual enemy, eh?”

Effloresce Whisker

 

[Hel]

ÁdísLocation: Four Shields Inn
Mentions: DovahBeat Wylrin

"I just don't want to be startled by a frost atronach if it's one of our own. We've gotten used to atronachs since Ruender's been assigned to the contingent, but I don't want spells going every which way without expecting it first."

Ádís listened to the one they called the commander. She could not call the question an unnecessary one, and she could respect a man with the forethought to avoid such disasters. Fenn gave his answer, it was suitably vague and she appreciated that well enough, though there were a few things that she thought she should probably include. Necromancy tended to make people terribly uncomfortable, so while she would avoid it as much as she could it was, at the end of the day, the foundation of her healing. She would avoid using what visible necromancy she could do. No skeletons for the time being.

"I am a healer as well," Ádís said, agreeing with Fennorian, "But my methods may be different than what you've seen or felt before, I should warn you. Also, I should be able to defend myself even if enemies were to get too close, to ease concerns of our burdening you. I have my fair share of battle experience, though I may be a little out of shape," As Ádís finished, she gave a small smile and looked away, clearly embarrassed about sharing that she feels she's lost prowess that she used to possess.

"We're ready to leave when you are. Assuming Ádís is ready?" Fennorian asked. He turned towards her, clearly waiting for her response. Ádís looked back to both of them, returning to her usual formal posture.

"I am ready, though I would like to know if there is anything that we should know about any of your fighting styles," Ádís said, turning the question back on the legionnaire.

 

[Effloresce]

Aela danced back as the tingling of a stray, purring voice tickled the undersides of her ears. With the former blood-rage red peeling back into cunning calculation, she now noticed the spectator supplanted beside the rock. She grimaced, both resolute in the face of the roaring horde and off-put by the khajiit's unnoticed presence.

"The cat's right." Aela nodded to the khajiit and shifted on her side, facing the forsworn head-on but not quite surrendering her back.

"I'll gladly send you to Sovngarde after, hunter." Her terse beckoning words held promise and humour in equal measure, a smirk dancing across her features; she'd meant it, too. A lull in their duel was enough for her to reconcile their methods of battle and adjust accordingly, if they were to fight again, she had his tactics and fighting style read.

"But I don't like the idea of being turned into a pelt; and I don't think you want to be cooked in a forsworn pot." Her voice dripped with a certainty, gruff and determined. Tired as she was, the forsworn's lack of armour made them considerably simpler to beat--if the dawnguard hadn't donned his heavy steel cast helmet, he'd be dead, himself. With focused eyes and a rattling skull hounded by shrill cries of pre-battle bloodlust, she spared a nod to the khajiit behind them. The cat made to fight, unsurprisingly given it was the khajiit who'd likely drawn the forsworn out if her tales of thievery rung true; not that Aela particularly cared, she slaughtered them for sport. As was her right as a predator. Who was she to judge the scavengers of the wilds? Especially when they bared tooth and claw come confrontation.

"How about a welcoming gift." The Huntress paced aside and re-armed her bow, twirling the fine wooden craft in calloused hands with a devilish grin. Her eye closed, pressed behind the sight of stringas she nocked and loosed a whistling arrow, the first casualty cried out as his bare chest was pierced by the projectile.

They would find no mercy in the stretch from their peak to the three grim-masked fighters. Arrow after arrow made to fell forsworn. Some were struck, others sported carved hide shields which offered sanctuary.

They were close now; their hollow screams ringing in her ears. She aimed again, but the man in her sights fought against the horde, arms wide in protest, a confused frown settled on her face. A forsworn who didn't want to eat their entrails?

Interesting as it was, the time to dwell on anomalies was split asunder as their mass barrelled forth.

The fight for their survival had begun.
Whisker Wylrin explosiveKitten

 

[Whisker]

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 6:42 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Combat


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Completion the Hunt

​

Sovngarde, huh . . .

Decimus shook his head. He did not know what fate awaited him in the next life, but he knew it was no ancient Nordic mead hall full of fallen heroes. There was too much he had seen, too much he had done to ever earn a seat among the venerated dead. The sentiment behind the statement though, he did not miss.

"Fine," he agreed, "A truce for now, wolf. But when this fight is over, I'm putting an end to this."

Decimus let his warning linger in the air for a second, then brushed past her, the honed blade flashing dark silver as he swished it to one side in preparation to attack. Out of instinct, or perhaps the training he had endured long ago, he moved forward at a brisk trot to take up a flanking position further up the hill on the right hand side - a risky proposition, he knew, but the most tactically sound one given the situation at hand.

He'd seen enough by now to know that the Huntress would go for her bow before she went for her sword, and with the Forsworn wearing naught but simple stitched furs, the damage of those arrows would be deadly if she had enough clearance to aim those shots. Of course, he was not blind to what that meant. Letting her get her hands back onto her bow. Giving her range to fire. Taking a stance anywhere in front of her even if he angled to keep her in sight. But on the same token, none of this would mean a damn thing if they were overwhelmed by the incoming Forsworn first.

There was only one best option here: someone had to bottleneck the charge. Or rather two someones.

An arrow hissed by inches from his shoulder line and buried itself in the exposed chest of a forsworn some yards away. The man gave a gurgled cry and tumbled backwards even as more exploded from the brush. Two arrows whisked by in returning fire. One thudding into the ground by his feet and the other whistling by the cat's left ear. Decimus kept his eyes on the forerunners advancing up the slope even as his attention turned to the cat by the boulder.

"Seeing as you brought them up here, make yourself useful," he called over as he lowered his body into a waiting crouch. "Left side is all yours."

That was when the first of the antler-helmed warriors managed to penetrate the Huntress' deadly volley of arrows and ascend the crest of the hill. It spotted him at once and raised its stone axe up over its head.

"For the Reach!"

The axe descended in a blur that Decimus was forced to sidestep in order to avoid having his head cleaved in two. The warrior staggered, clearly off-balanced after the motion, and tried to turn but was not quick enough to stop the point of the silver blade from burying itself in his throat. Blood gushed out onto the Imperial's hands, but he did not stop as he jammed in there good before kicking the body backwards to hopefully collide into its fellows making their way up the gradually darkening slope.

Blood thundering in his ears once more, he stepped back into stance to prepare to intercept despite the growing darkness. Though among those climbing the slope, he could see a lone figure shouting and waving his arms at the others as if to draw them back from the fight. A captive? A coward? Some sort of trick?

He couldn't tell in the gradually worsening light.

Effloresce Wylrin explosiveKitten

​

 

[Wylrin]

"Haven't had a healer in our contingent in quite some time," the commander told them as Bear stayed uncharacteristically quiet. "Let alone two," he continued with a chuckle.

As Ádís continued, however, Bear seemed to break from silence's hold, saying, "Ah, I'm sure you're fine. Can't be in the thick of it all the time, now can we?"

"I'm surprised you aren't making it a contest," Songbird remarked.

"Oh! Thank you for reminding me! If we end up meeting any sort of opposition on the way to Solitude, well, how about a friendly little bet, eh?"

"Later," said the commander. "We have tactics to discuss." Nodding solemnly to the two, he said, "Short version? Bear and I specialize in close quarters combat. Hawkeye prefers to keep his distance firing arrows. And Songbird? Well, he stays in the middle and tries not to get shot."

A wordless squawk of protest sounded from the aforementioned man, to which the commander laughed, saying, "No, he covers Hawkeye. Most of his greatest talents lie outside of combat, but we're toughening him up."

"And we're not just talking about your cooking," Bear made sure to tell the man with a smirk.

"Well, we'd better get moving before Ruender has a conniption," said Cassius.

---

It shouldn't have startled him, but it did. Every time, it did.

Though he was positioned in such a way that he could not see the arrow that now protruded from his fellow's chest, he could tell from the way the man's body suddenly stilled that a fatal strike had been inflicted. He did not think, he simply acted. His open arms were now quite occupied by his fellow Reachman; or, he should say, his fellow Reachman's body. Lowering him to the ground with a tenderness that a corpse did not require, Edwynak held onto some hope that, perhaps, his brother yet lived.

It was a complicated desire. In the heat of battle, one's first and foremost instinct is to survive, and so he wished the same for his companion. Yet perhaps after the dust had settled, he would look back on this moment and realize that it was probably for the best that the man had died quickly. As well intended as he was, Edwynak was no healer, and he somehow doubted that even the greatest of magics could reverse the damage that arrow had dealt.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, knelt on the ground with his brother's head lying limp in his lap. All he could discern was that the battle still raged on, yet he didn't have the capacity to tell if he was on the winning or losing side. A small sliver of him almost didn't care who won, just so long as it stopped. But even after the last man had fallen on this battlefield, many more would be lost in the war.

A never-ending cycle, it seemed, despite his efforts to throw a wrench in that well-oiled machine.

DovahBeat Hel Whisker Effloresce explosiveKitten

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Hel Wylrin
Fennorian nodded, taking Adis's hand in his as he made his way for the door of the inn. "Yes, it'd be best if we got going. Wouldn't want to keep your associate waiting." He paused just before exiting the establishment, realizing he forgot something. "Oh, where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself! I am Fennorian of House Ravenwatch. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He nodded to each of the Legionnaires, then finally opened the door and felt the cold air nip at his skin. It seems as though one thing hasn't changed about Skyrim, and that was her weather.

 

[explosiveKitten]

“WAH!”

She flinched away from an arrow that zipped passed her ear and flew off into the distance. She blinked and looked back at whoever loosed that arrow, muzzle wrinkling angrily as she pulled a lip back and flashed her teeth at them, but when the man spoke up again, her expression dropped to neutral again and her ears shoved forward attentively, before falling back in mock shock and offense.

“How dare you assume such a thing of me!” She wailed in a mockery of being offended, before quoting someone she often saw wandering Whiterun. “I ain’t done nothin’!”

Another arrow whizzed passed her nose and she flinched, then huffed and sighed, “Alright, fine, I was going to go fight a few anyway. Cause I’m bored, not because you told me to!”
She dropped to all fours and dashed off through the grass, just a streak of brown fur through the grass as she approached the charging group of Forsworn.

When she came within range of them, she rose to her two feet and jumped, claws forward into the first, ripping at that oh-so sensitive neck, before sticking a leg out and tripping another.

She danced around the group of Forsworn like the most dancer, hopping from one person to another, tricking them into shooting each other, making them fall over each other, just looking like she was having a grand old time out there. Sure she was getting a few cuts and nasty punctures, but aren’t life threatening situations the best way to remember that you were alive?

Wylrin Effloresce Whisker

 

[SomebodyElse]

Firae Arden

Location: Arriving in Karthwasten
With: Ellowin graytful ​

Firae had been abruptly interrupted by a bosmer. This one carried a bow and held out a gold piece. She had finished her song before looking to the elf and speaking up.

"For me? Oh my, well thank you. I am Firae, just a s-simple wandering bard." Firae said spinning around fdancing half drunkenly.

Firae never had problems with any of the races of Tamriel. She more so only had problems after the people who went after her after she may have stolen from them. Upon examining this one in particular she had found it quite interesting in her choice of hairstyle and could tell by the way she carried herself that she was probably a thief like herself. Firae graciously accepted the gold piece, pocketing it.

"Ah you don't perhaps be heading towards Dragon Bridge?"

Firae said, the wine impeding her speech slightly. Firae needed to head there. If anything, perhaps this elf was heading in the same way. Firae could feel that the elf thought it was odd to see a lone bard. Although Firae was experienced enough to handle herself on her own, but that didn't mean that it was bad to have company on the road.

"I assure you I could make your travels far more interesting, and I'm capable of handling myself." Firae said beginning to strum another tune, this time without words. Her hands moved dextrously across the strings, producing another song that was quite soothing.
Her eyes closed slightly. Dragon Bridge wasn't too far from here. Soon enough she would be meeting up with Maeve, atleast she hoped she would.

It was always Maeve who had been wise to tell Firae not to overuse her Clairvoyance, as it was a rare ability to begin with. And her own travels had led her to this elf, and Firae much preferred making new friends than traveling alone.

 

[Effloresce]

Aela's arrows continued in their relentless discharge, the fury of the wilds carving through the winds with a whistling almost reminiscent of a wolf's grow. She'd planned to keep up the assault for as long as possible; well this was it. The khajiit danced a deadly routine through stray bone saws and carved rock clubs whilst her former adversary felled the forsworn with a brutal and methodical precision as they scrambled upon the hill. But there was only two people to hold back a small horde, after her carnage, she counted at least 15 others, 3 of which were rushing towards her with blood circling in their violent hungry eyes.

The first strike came; Aela sidestepped and with sword-in-hand carved a bloody pattern out of the woman's thigh, swirling about to meet the second aggressor head-on with a forward roll. His wide slash flailed overhead, striking air she no longer inhabited, but as she came up on her roll the sword thrust into the final attacker's belly, his flimsy parry attempt easily dragged away owing to his poor guard position and footwork. The second attacker who she'd formerly dodged turned for a final strike, but a cocky smirk possessed Aela's hungry lips. She raised her leg and in a show of supreme arrogance kicked the flimsily gripped sword from the man's hand, the forsworn staring numbly as he was disarmed.

She stood. Idle. Beckoning.

"Is that all you've got?" She hissed in challenge, even disarmed, the forsworn were nothing if not brave--or zealous, rather. Something they had in common with the dawnguard.

The forsworn proved her analysis correct when he let out a blood-curdling war cry and charged the huntress with nothing but the hunting knife in his palms, she stepped diagonally off past the slice and brought her sword across his belly as she did, eviscerating the forsworn much like a wolf disembowels its pray. The blade to the throat that followed was a mercy.

These were forsworn, yes. But they were the lowest of them, these were untrained and violent brutes. Not at all like the notorious berserkers or the legendary briar hearts.

A good thing, too, otherwise the three would be dead.
Wylrin Whisker explosiveKitten

 

[Hel]

ÁdísLocation: Dragonbridge, leaving
Mentions: @DovaBeat Wylrin


Ádís was happy to let Fennorian take her hand as they left. As Fenn remembered to introduce himself, she figured that it was probably time to introduce herself as well. She had more or less gathered the names of the imperial they would be traveling with to Solitude - or at least what they called themselves, it seemed unlikely that their given names were akin to "bear" and "songbird".

"And my name is Ádís. It is, as Fennorian said, a pleasure to meet you all," she said, as she spoke she gave the group in general a nod of her head by way of introduction. As Fennorian opened the door, Ádís brought her free hand up to keep her cloak's hood pulled up against the wind that rushed into the inn. She remembered the chill from earlier in the morning and wondered how she'd let herself get so used to the (relatively) warmer climate of Rivenspire since leaving her homeland.

As they left Dragonbridge, Ádís looked to Bear with a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So, about that bet you mentioned, what did you have in mind, hmm?"

 

[Whisker]

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 6:42 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Combat


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Completion the Hunt​

Decimus scan of the area was cut violently short as an arrow whisked by his face close enough to draw blood. He staggered backwards, hand rushing up to his cheek in momentary shock, but was forced to lower it again as the screaming mob finally reached the top of the hill.

He raised his sword to block an incoming cut, but was forced to keep backpedaling as one Forsworn became two, and two became three, until suddenly he was almost damned near surrounded. From the corner of his eye, he could see the cat was holding her own; many forsworn bore the marks of her claws as she shredded and danced. But there were simply too many descending upon him to try calling for help, or to try and reach her.

He was on his own.

Cut off and surrounded by the forsworn surge, the Dawnguard Hunter put all his strength and dexterity in his blade. Instead of just a singular slab of metal, it became a storm of blurring grey steel as he attempted to menace his foes.

One Forsworn, more daring than his fellows, attempted to duck under his twisting whirlwind and aim a deadly thrust straight for his gut, but crumpled as a pommel came crashing down on his head to leave him senseless in the dust.

Nine foes left.

Another closed in from the right, snarling black vengeance. The air thrummed with deadly energy as his thorn-studded blade flew towards Decimus' exposed throat. Pure instinct saved him as he ducked low to send the blade whistling past up and over his head. With his blade meeting empty air, the Forsworn staggered off-balance, just for an instant. But it was enough time for Decimus to rise back up and jam the point of his blade home once, twice, and a third time in rapid succession into his enemy's exposed side.

"PISS OFF!"

He didn't mean to say the words, but they left him just the same in a throaty, defiant roar of aggression.

But the battle was far from over.

Before he could yank his blade free from its lodged position in the Forsworn's ribs, something hard and heavy struck him from behind. The world swam in a blur. He couldn't see. His breath left him along with an animalistic yelp of pain. And before he could recover his wits, another blow with the same amount of power behind it struck him soundly right between the shoulder blades.

The world swam in a lurch. His feet flew out from underneath him, and he lost his grip on the blade he was holding. He hit the ground hard and slid in the grass. Through the blood obscuring his vision, he could make out the dull horizon line of the hill.

If he went over here, not even the best healer in the world could probably save his life.

Cold terror surged through him. With the last bit of iron and grit in his veins, Decimus rolled over onto his back to face the one who loomed over top of him: a Forsworn far bigger than all the rest, whose caved in chest was a recognizable mangled mess beyond normal human comprehension.

A Briarheart.

Oh . . .

Cold and emotionless, the brute raised the club in his hand for a downward strike. Decimus rolled, and the ground behind him exploded in a 'thud' that seemed to echo despite the roar of battle. Heart pounding loudly in his ears, the wounded imperial's fingers scrabbled in the dirt for something . . . anything . . . and enclosed on the jagged edge of a rock.

In reflexive terror, he jammed the rock down hard as he could on the Forsworn's foot, but to seemingly no avail as the champion's booted foot lashed out to catch him in the chest. Decimus raised his arms up over his head to protect himself, but it seemed all but useless.

The Forsworn had him trapped on the ledge, and there was nowhere else to go.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Target: Effloresce

Mentioned: Wylrin explosiveKitten

 

[Wylrin]

It wouldn't have been a major surprise to the commander if the aforementioned associate of his was skulking outside the door, listening in on their conversation. As it turned out, however, the Thalmor agent was only just now approaching them. His gaze was fixed on Cassius, though upon seeing he was accompanied by more than his contingent, his eyes flicked to them, then to their intertwined hands. There was silence at first, his face revealing nothing that was going on in his head, though one could probably guess.

He opened his mouth.

"Ruender."

And closed it.

"We're escorting these two to Solitude," the commander went on. "Looks like we'll be leaving earlier than anticipated. I'm sure this meets with your approval?"

Telondri, in an uncharacteristic bout of silence, said nothing, instead turning to head towards the bridge where Hawkeye was scouting out the area.

As they left, Songbird trailing behind, Bear grinned at Ádís, saying, "Well! If you were the fighting sort, I'd say, should we meet any hostiles, that I could take down more than you. Seeing as how you're more of the healing sort, we'll have to be a bit more creative." Thinking for several moments, he proposed, "How 'bout this? I'll down more foes than the amount of times you'll have to heal me."

"Watch us run into a giant," Songbird chirped.

"Hmm, good point. Do you have any suggestions?" Yylik asked him.

"I'd say make it a bet to see who can hold their liquor once we get to town, but we might not be staying in Solitude very long."

 

[Effloresce]

Aela's victory was short-lived; the tides of battle may have favoured her and the khajiit, but the majority of the blood-seeking servants of the Old Gods had sought the dawnguard first, and he'd faced the greater number. Unsurprising, his armoured heavyset frame would instil the most threat--and the most glory to the forsworn to bring him down.

An event that was transpiring before her very eyes.

Her former attacker was absent the battle, clinging for life on the cliff's face as a large--a very large--Forsworn towered above with menacing purpose. Time warped around her scattered mind; he meant to kill her, what mercy did she owe him? But the Companion within spoke of saving a brother in battle. The Wolf taught a hunter deserved a noble death at the hands of an equal. If he was going to die, it'd be sword in-hand, not grasping for purpose after being overwhelmed by superior numbers. Aela didn't believe in the concept of honour, not really, but Kodlak did, would he call her honourable now?

Her face was set, a mask of grim purpose belied the expert mark her gaze drew upon the forsworn's back. Her full sprint forward was accompanied by a volley of harrying arrows, the first dug deep into the forsworn's back but the man merely rounded from his intended target with uncaring eyes. Aela couldn't hide the surprise on her face, but carried forth as she was by spirit in momentum she couldn't afford to slow now.

But this was no large forsworn. But a briarheart, in the flesh.

Two more arrows found his flesh before he deigned to entertain using his shield. Crooked lips perked up in challenge, blood refused to crawl from his puncture wounds; those arrows scarcely tickled him. The Huntress' coy arrogance was flushed in an-instant. There were few things in Skyrim she hadn't battled--fewer still she had no wish to battle--but a briarheart was one such being. Her face morphed into sublime focus, a scowl and a grimace settled in as she strung the bow over her back, sword flashing in the sunlight as she sprang the last distance of their dance with a jumping thrust at the behemoth's jugular. But the man was faster than anyone that large had any right to be, the briarheart's muscles were coiled, his skin hard as stone as her blade was turned away with a proficiency belying his brutish appearance.

Unwilling to get tied into a bind she allowed her momentum to carry her into a roll; an opportune manoeuvre that allowed her to catch a sneaking glancing blow at his thigh as she sailed across the ground. The Briarheart huffed indignantly, striking forth with another great winding slash that the rising woman was forced to deflect - but his form was astute, and she was tired from her battle with the dawnguard. Aela's greatest asset was her strength; but the briarheart was stronger. With an audible growl and teeth bared in defiance the Huntress pushed against his blade with a defiant resilience. Even as her feet ceded ground, her attacker continued to push her towards the very cliff's edge once destined to be the dawnguard's doom.

The prospect of losing a contest of strength to another man--far as a briarheart may be form one--was an idea was so unfamiliar, so foreign, that Aela's blood boiled in indignation. A surge of second strength wrapped around her body as with one great push the briarheart was staggered back. Her eyes, now amber, were sharp and canine.

The wolf was awake once more, it seemed.
Whisker explosiveKitten

 

[Whisker]

Decimus Axillus

Location: Bruca's Leap Redoubt Date: Morndas, 6:42 PM, 5th of Frostfall, 4E 202 Status: In Combat


Quests:
Talk to Delrik of the Silver Hand
Investigate Suspicious Deaths in the Reach
Complete the Hunt
Talk to Delrik upon Completion the Hunt

​

In the six years Decimus had served in the Imperial Legion, he had never seen a Forsworn hesitate to kill. They were fanatics; they desired nothing but the land of the Reach.

There was no reason to expect anything more than the cold end of an axe to dislodge him from the cliff face. And, in a scene that seemed to move in slow motion before his eyes, he saw the Briarheart lift his menacing cudgel above his head, muscles swelling with strength far beyond that of an ordinary man as he prepared to bring it down.

Decimus could not close his eyes. Couldn't think. Couldn't move. It was a moment suspended in time as an icy chill surged through him from his head to his toes.

He was about to die.

And then, suddenly, from somewhere amidst the fading sounds of chaos, he heard the deadly thrum of an arrow.

The Briarheart stumbled a step. Then, he stumbled once more as a second arrow slammed home inches below the first with deadly precision. If the Briarheart were a normal man, there was no doubt that instead of stumbling that he would have fallen over dead instead. However, with the insane brutality that only a man who had given up all vestiges of his humanity could have, the Forsworn merely straightened and turned dispassionately as though the arrows were no more than the bites of a fly.

From the corner of his eye, Decimus could see the shooter now, too. The Huntress was closing in, her face lined with grim determination, her hands moving to nock an arrow with the practiced speed that only a specialist with years of practice could have. Her next arrow skipped from her bow at an unbelievable speed, but the Briarheart brought up his shield to block it with a loud 'crack'.

The sound thrudded through him, but more importantly, it jarred his body back to life. With a grunt of exertion, the Imperial kicked out with his legs and powered forward up and over the ledge. One of the Forsworn accompanying the Briarheart saw him and rushed forward, but the Dawnguard's momentum propelled him out of the way. With a panicked scream, the Forsworn was too late to recover his mistake and went tumbling down the side of the cliff.

The Briarheart seemingly noticed nothing.

He was caught up with the Huntress, the two of them grappling in a furious struggle right at the edge of the cliff where Decimus had been clinging just moments before. Their blades were locked, and the werewolf was being forced backwards to the edge little by little. From his vantage point, Decimus could see the Huntress' eyes in particular. No longer an uncomfortable wolf grey, but a viscous glowing amber that pierced the dusk like a knife.

Hircine's gift!

As he climbed unsteadily to his feet, a furious but coldly rational thought flashed through the Imperial's mind. Do it now, the voice said. Push them both! You will never have this chance again . . .

Instead, Decimus strode forward, took the grip of his sword in both hands, and plunged it forward with all of his might in the hopes of striking the heart from behind.

"Go to Oblivion, you mad son of a bitch."

Quest Succeeded: Kill the Forsworn

Effloresce explosiveKitten Wylrin

 

[DovahBeat]

FennorianMentions: Wylrin Hel
Fennorian watched the other Altmer go, somewhat surprised that the whole situation wasn't more... volatile.
"Knowing Skyrim, something is bound to attack us. My first time here had our cart attacked by Icereach coven witches." He commented, before continuing. "If you want a bet, you could always bet on what will attack us. Or on how long it will take to encounter a foe."

 

[Hel]

ÁdísLocation: Leaving Dragonbridge
Mentions: DovahBeat Wylrin

"How long it will take? That one isn't a terrible idea. Of course, I am always interested in a drinking contest should nothing interesting happen before then." The Nord woman mused. She gave Fennorian's hand a small squeeze when she complimented his idea, then turned her attention back to the others. "I know what my bet would be on that particular subject. Of course, I have half a mind to take you up on the first bet! One I'd lose, without a doubt, but the sport of it could be fun nevertheless."

 

[Effloresce]

Aela felt the blood thinning in her veins, pooling back into a sea of vibrant clarity as the Forsworn's body slumped along the jagged metal that bit through his chest and sliced the crooked obsidian arteries. Their scattering pulses spluttered into stillness.

"Hmmph." The Huntress' hum was low, sharp hands slid the blade into the sheath at her side. It was a risky move. The dawnguard still vied for her throat, but she wasn't interested in taking his life; not unless forced to. "A fine strike." Her eyes, shining stars, remained transfixed to the bulky giant as the dark energies fled his body in the wake of death. Aela shuffled under the darting oppression of a brief sharp coldness as the Briarheart's magic drained into a rushing miasma.

Then the chill was gone.

he sound of scraping steel was and savage cries was gone now, only the gentle lapping of a midday breeze echoed across the bloody battle-torn hill. A glorified grave of corpses. Aela hoped they were the last as she found her gaze roaming back to the dawnguard.

A cautionary knot formed in her chest, the balls of her feet were light and electric--primed for movement. Trepidation clung to the air, it was thick with uncertainty. An unspoken tension lingered above the briarheart's heavy fur-clad corpse as rival gazes met in a silent clash of a uniting reprieve.

"So," She folded her arms, a silent challenge entering her eyes; "Are you done using that sword?" Her tone betrayed the suspicion, but the words formed a question as much as a challenge. Aela couldn't help but wonder if she'd see their assailing khajiit-visitor before further blood was potentially shed. The cat fought well in the battle; the Huntress' hoped she survived. It would've been a waste to fall here, joining the ranks of the very forsworn she'd felled with a breezing savagery.
Whisker
explosiveKitten