It was well after the sun had set when Mordyn finally stumbled out of the Sleeping Giant Inn with Ralof at his side. Both men clung to each other for support as they exited the inn, struggling to find their balance after their celebratory drinks after surviving the dragon attack at Helgen had gotten out of hand. However if there was ever a time to get well and truly sloshed on Nord mead, Mordyn reasoned, a day when you survived both an execution and a dragon attack, not to mention a tomb full of draugr, wasn't a bad time to start.
Ralof was still singing verses from Ragnar the Red that the rest of the Inn's patrons had started before they left. Without the buzz of noise and variance that came from singing in a group however Mordyn had to say he was enjoying the song a lot less than he had at the bar. Ralof was on a particularly high and warbling note that his rough voice was beating at relentlessly when Mordyn tapped his friend to get his attention and stop him from singing- mostly to stop him from singing.
"Ralof!" Mordyn hissed at his compatriot, "We got a…itssa…Issa problem…look…"
Ralof broke off from his song to blearily glance in the generally pointed at direction that Mordyn was trying to hold steady as his arm swayed.
"It's a…step?" he asked as if not completely sure.
"Five," Mordyn stated with rock solid surety, "It's at least five steps."
The two men peered over the edge that separated them from the Sleeping Giant Inn and the dirt road of Riverwood. Jutting wooden boards served to create the 'at least 5' step impasse that lay between the two friends and the path back to their bedrolls. It was perhaps a foot and a half from the platform to the ground, but the dozen meads they had guzzled together made the drop induce vertigo.
"I'm not sure about this Mordyn…" mumbled Ralof as he swayed unsteadily over the precipice, "Maybe Delphine can get us two cots back inside. Hell I'll pay her so we don't have to face Gerdur in this state. She'll hang our hides out to dry."
"Erm…" Mordyn began.
"Where do you think those tanning racks all over town came from eh?" he asked with a wry grin.
Mordyn huffed as he clapped his companion on the back, "No sweat Ralof. If we can face off an imperial patrol and a dragon attack then stairs aren't gonna stop us!"
Ralof grinned widely, wagging a finger at Mordyn, "You may be right at that Breton, you may be right at-waugh!"
Ralof stumbled back, lost his footing and landed flat on his back on the dirt road. He chuckled wheezily.
"Ahh Mordyn my friend. I am glad to have met you. With you at our side Skyrim will belong to its true sons and daughters once again," Ralof hoisted himself up until his elbows to grin lopsidedly at Mordyn, "We have a bond now you and I. Blood and mead form fast friends my father used to say, temper that with a little dragon fire and we might just have something glorious."
That was when Embry decided to stagger out of the Sleeping Giant and piss off the balcony, completely ruining the mood. He leered over at them until he was done, pulling up his trousers and mumbling something that sounded a lot like 'get a room'. Mordyn waited till the drunk slammed the door to the Inn shut before shaking his head and making an attempt to reach his friend on the path.
It was a good effort, the first three steps falling under a whirling salvo of cross-footed stumbling before the gap between the fourth and fifth plank caught the toe of his boot and sent him sprawling after Ralof. Mordyn groaned as he lay face down in the dirt. They had had far too much to drink. He was just happy that it was late enough that most people were either in the Inn or in their own homes by now. It wouldn't do for Gerdur to wander out and see the man she'd entrusted to go secure the Jarl's help against a possible dragon attack lying in a pool of his own vomit.
No he certainly wouldn't want to let them down like that. Mordyn had been surprised at how welcoming the small village had been to an outsider like him, especially during a time of civil war. Gerdur offering him whatever supplies he may need for his journey ahead and the blacksmith giving a crash course in his craft, even letting Mordyn keep his efforts after supplying the materials. Divines the children had even asked a complete stranger to play hide and seek with them!
Ralof had regained his feet and was standing over Mordyn, grinning with an outstretched arm offering assistance. The man looked almost recovered from the mead. Damn Nords and their constitutions. A blow to the head was all that was needed to set them right it seemed.
"Thanks friend, " Mordyn chuckled as Ralof helped him up, "At this rate with us defeating Imperials, dragons and stairs we'll own half of Skyrim by Loredas!"
Ralof laughed, "And on Sundas we come back here to plot the rest of our conquest!"
He drew his sword then, managing on the second try, and struck a jokingly menacing pose, "Don't get too far ahead of yourself though Breton. Skyrim belongs to the Nords."
Mordyn drew up his hands in mock surrender, "Save it for the Imperials Stormcloak. By Oblivion after how they almost executed us it will be good to see those pretentious city slickers get what they deserve."
"On that we agree Mordyn," grinned Ralof lowering his sword slightly, "You're with us then?"
"Most certainly am!" Mordyn declared, moving to draw his sword from its scabbard in order to hoist it aloft in a show of solidarity. Unfortunately the scabbard decided to come along for the ride as the blade stuck stubbornly and both were pulled free from his belt. Ralof almost fell over laughing.
"Well I'm sure any Imperial would be shaking in their boots," Ralof wheezed through his laughter, "Should give you plenty of time to eventually draw your sword!"
"Shut up!" growled Mordyn as he struggled with his scabbard, gripping the end of the sheathe with his feet as he tugged at the hilt, "It must be the blood from those wolves we ran into before town that's the problem. Thought I cleaned the damn thing… the blasted blade keeps sticking."
"It's those spindly Breton twigs you call arms that are the problem. Here, let a Nord show you how it's done," stated Ralof as he strode forward, flexing his biceps.
"No, hang on!" Mordyn huffed as he adjusted his hold on the scabbard, tucking it under his arm for better leverage as he continued to pull incessantly at the hilt, "I felt it shift a bit just now. If I can just-"
The sword flew free of its sheathe and out of control, slipping from Mordyn's grasp. An unsuspecting chicken which until then had been innocently minding its own business met its untimely demise as the blade sliced clean through its neck. Despite the sudden manner of its expiration the chicken in question still managed to let out a death squawk that echoed throughout the village of Riverwood.
"Oh shit!" Mordyn exclaimed as he quickly knelt at the deceased fowl's body and retrieved his blade, "I killed the damn thing! Oh shit Ralof I'm sorry it was a complete acci-"
Mordyn cut off as he turned to see the look of absolute horror that had frozen over his friend's features.
"Eh Ralof? Look I'm sorry about the chicken, but you're kind of freaking me out right now."
"This is bad Mordyn…really bad," Ralof said softly, still retaining a sickly complexion, "You need to get out of here fast, before someone sees what you've-"
They were interrupted as the tavern door burst open to reveal Embry and Sven the bard who had come to investigate the noise.
"What in Oblivion is that racket!?" demanded Sven, glaring daggers at Mordyn. It seemed the man still had not forgiven him for his deception on Faendal's behalf.
"No-one in the tavern can hear my fiftieth repetition of Ragnar the Red! If you two don't…" he trailed off as he regarded the scene at Mordyn's feet, his face going cold and dark.
"By the nine…" Embry intoned as he also caught sight of the fowl homicide that had taken place.
"Everyone!" shouted Sven, rousing the already half roused villagers after the chicken's last squawk, "The newcomer killed a chicken! The bastard killed it right in the damned street!"
He turned to sneer at Mordyn.
"I knew you were trouble Breton! Now you're about to get what you had coming."
The town gathered almost unbelievably quickly with even the children being roused to witness Mordyn's transgression. Soon he found himself almost surrounded by a mob consisting of the entire town. Mordyn could tell they were a mob by the profoundly unsettling open hatred in their expressions.
Even the Valerius siblings who he had helped with their claw trouble as soon as he had returned and Faendal who had pledged his loyalty to him were fixing him with the same glare. Mordyn's gaze settled on Gerdur who had been so helpful in helping him prepare to set out for his journey and cringed as he saw the same look again on her face. Unbidden images of the tanning racks in front of almost every house came to mind.
"Now look Gerdur Ralof and I were just having a few drinks and…clearly things got out of hand, that is to say this was an honest mistake and I can see that you…that everyone… is rather…upset," Mordyn babbled as he backed a away from the mob who appeared to be unsheathing their weapons, "I'm a bit low on coin, but I'm sure we can work something out! I could…I'll work at the mill! Till it's paid off! How much does a chicken cost anyway? How about that? Come on Ralof back me up here!"
None of his words seemed to have an effect on the crowd that was growing increasingly hostile. Alvor, who had been so patient earlier when teaching him to forge and improve daggers, was readying a war hammer that looked diminutive in his large hands. The others were also busy readying their respective weapons. Ralof turned to regard him sadly.
"I'm sorry Mordyn. There is no talking them down I'm afraid."
"What?" asked Mordyn incredulously, "Come on! There has to be some way we can work this out? By the crypt it's only a chicken!"
Mordyn immediately saw this was the wrong thing to say as the man he had thought to be his friend's expression hardened. Ralof opened his mouth to reply, but Alvor chose that moment to charge and swing at Mordyn with his war hammer. Slow to react Mordyn caught a glancing blow to the shoulder that was enough to send him sprawling to the ground.
He had barely recovered before Sigurd came lunging at him with a dagger, forcing him to roll back out of reach. His movement put him closer to the children which caused the two to scream in alarm and scamper to hide behind a barrel by the inn where Embry and Stump were already cowering. The rest of the town had no such worries as they advanced on Mordyn with their weapons drawn and expressions filled with pure hatred.
Bewildered and terrified Mordyn turned and fled out onto the road. Behind him he could hear the slow lumbering foots as Alvor gave chase soon joined by a clattering stampede as the rest of the town hurried towards the hunt. Pumping his legs as fast as they would pump Mordyn quickly made for the bridge, crossing and heading for the forest in the hopes he could lose them in the trees. The forest whipped by, rabbits and the occasional deer scattering at his sudden passage. As soon as he'd rounded a bend and felt he was suitably shielded from view he crouched down and cut sharply left and up the mountain. He made quickly for an outcrop of rocks which had a large old and weathered tree leaning against it for support.
Tucking himself into the shelf and laying down flat he tried to peek out to find out what had become of his pursuers. Looking down the Cliffside it seemed the villagers had not made it this far yet. It was almost a full minute before Alvor came huffing and puffing around the bend. He hesitated momentarily as he looked down the path to see that Mordyn had vanished. As the other villagers arrived, instead of continuing down the road or returning to Riverswood as Mordyn had hoped, they fanned out to search the surrounding area.
He tucked himself back behind the cover of the rocks and tree, trying desperately to hold back his hard breathing after his getaway sprint. What in Oblivion had he done by killing that damned chicken that had caused the entire blasted town to decide to kill him!? He had been told that some folk in the North were backwards, but this was to an entirely different degree. This was utter madness. Well as long as they didn't check his rocks behind the tree.
"Hey," someone sounding suspiciously like Sven shouted, "Try checking behind the tree with all those rocks around it."
Damn. Mordyn was really beginning to hate that particular Nord. Surely though his particular chosen hiding spot wasn't the only tree surrounding by rocks in the area. This was Skyrim by the divines! The infernal place was practically littered with rocks and trees. Skyrim! Come and see our rocks and trees! Oh and please feel free to take some home with you!
In any case Mordyn prepared himself for the eventuality of a sudden discovery. Taking stock of his weapons he realized he had dropped his sword, the cause of this whole mess, back at the village. That left him with only the dagger Alvor had helped him forge and the spells he had pilfered from that corpse back in the Imperial torture chamber. Not much to work with. The spells weren't particularly powerful to begin with and once his magicka ran out he didn't put much stock in his ability to hold off an enraged blacksmith with a war hammer with a dagger, no matter how well forged or 'fine' it was.
He lay as still as he could for what felt like a half hour before he felt something tug at his leg. Trying to stifle a yelp he scrabbled to turn himself to face whoever had found him, clutching the dagger with white knuckle intensity in one hand while a flames spell flared to life in the other. It was Ralof.
"Easy there Mordyn! Easy…" he held out both hands to show that he was unarmed, but Mordyn kept both dagger and spell trained on him as he looked around wildly for any sign of the other villagers. They appeared to be alone.
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened…" Ralof began as hysterical laughter began to bubble forth from Mordyn.
"Oh you're sorry?" he asked quizzically tilting his head as if the meaning eluded him, "Sorry you're your village and family tried to kill me over a fucking chicken!? That they turned on me without even giving me a chance to explain myself."
He began laughing again, louder than before.
"Mordyn listen!" Ralof tried again, "It's not their fault, it's just that a Nord's breakfast is really bland and without enough eggs most of the village will have to go without and…"
"I'm sorry," Mordyn injected, suddenly dead sober with a cold anger beginning to build up inside of him, "Are you saying that they want to kill me because they will have to go without egg for breakfast?"
"Well pigs are so rare in Skyrim that bacon is for rich folk only and porridge gets so tiring after a while. We need the protein you know? Besides-"
"Wait a second. What about the other chickens in Riverwood? I must have seen at least two others." Mordyn interrupted.
"But that's not enough for everyone you see?" Ralof supplied lamely, looking away.
"Is this a joke?" Mordyn asked, not in the least bit amused, with the cold fury building up again inside of him, "I'm finding it extremely difficult to believe your ridiculous line of reasoning. What you said doesn't make their actions any more rational. You're hiding something!"
"Believe what you will," sighed Ralof reaching behind his back to pull out a small sack of supplies.
He handed them over to Mordyn. The sack contained a collection of apples, sweet rolls and a small cut of dried meat.
"Couldn't get your sword you understand," Ralof apologized, "Alvor…requisitioned it."
"In any case," Ralof continued looking ashamed as he tried to meet Mordyn's eyes, "I was hoping you could still consider doing that thing you said you were going to help out with. For Riverwood I mean…you know and warn people about the dragon?"
Mordyn glared daggers at the man as he stowed the supplies.
"How did you guess that I love helping people that want to kill me?" he asked, his voice dripping venomously.
"Erm…" Ralof stared dejectedly at the ground.
Making a disgusted sound Mordyn stood, checking once again to make sure the other villagers were nowhere in sight.
"Luckily for you this was only the second most terrifying experience of my life," sneered Mordyn, "I'm not about to leave children to dragon fire."
"But…" said Mordyn as he walked up to stand right before Ralof before spitting at his feet, "This does not make us right. You and your insane backwards village are no friends of mine."
Ralof looked away, "You know if you send guards to Riverswood you could pay off your bounty. You wouldn't exactly be welcome, but at least they wouldn't be trying to kill you anymore."
Mordyn's only answer was to spit at Ralof's feet again and walk away towards Whiterun. There was something else going on here. Something sinister at play. And he was going to find out the truth.