A/N: So this is a story I'm writing with a friend of mine, who shall be named JC, he made one character and I made the other. We flipped a coin to decide some of the rules and this is the product we came up with. Hope you guys enjoy.

The two men trudged along the road, making their way to where they had left their horses. One of the laughed.

"You're getting slow old man," the younger of the two joked. Sweating from the days excursion, he removed his steel helmet and brushed his dark braided hair out of his face. His face stretched into a smile as the older man growled. The young man howled with laughter. "I'm just saying, the day that I need saving from an Ice Atronach is the day that I hang up my sword in shame." He winked at his older companion. "Especially if I can throw fire from my hands," he laughed.

"Yes, because 'Cantus, help me, help me. The Draugr's killing me!' is much more you're style," the Cantus growls from within his long grey beard. Hsi young friend takes a step back with a theatrical gasp.

"The only things I've asked you to save me from are angry husbands, fathers and brothers. Oh, and that chicken in Riverwood. That thing gives me the creeps." He shivered. There was something about that chicken.

Cantus chuckled quietly. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am getting old." He took a painful breath, the pain of his broken his ribs biting at him. That Atronach had given him a severe beating before his friend had saved him. He went to continue but the younger raised his hand.

"Fighting," he said quietly. He pointed with his hand into the woods. Now that Cantus focused, he could hear distant sounds of battle. He looked along the road and saw how it curved. He cursed.

"That's in the same direction as the horses," he said in a hoarse whisper. "I'm not up to full strength yet," he continued in frustration. The younger looked back, eyes calculating.

"We should just look and not get into anything unless we have to," the younger said lowly, making his way into the trees as he drew his bow. With the younger having much experience in stealth and the older wearing light robes and stepping lightly so as to not aggravate his ribs they approched the sounds of fighting quickly and quietly.

"Stormcloaks," Cantus hissed in malice. There was a group of blue armoured warriors in scaled and steel armour, some wearing the Bear of Eastmarch emblazoned on their chests or shields.

"Yep," the younger replied breezily. He cast an appraising look over the melee. "They're taking a beating, the Imperials have them on the ropes." Looking past the battle, the younger man grimaced and scratched his beard.

Cantus spoke up. "The horses are just beyond the fighting. If we wait until the fightings done, they'll probably claim the horses. If we make our move now, there's a chance, albeit large, that everyone'll try to kill us. It's probably better to wait until the fighting's over and try to barter with whoever's left. Right?" He looked to his left, where just moments before the younger man had been. The old man cursed and scanned the battlefield for his friend.

There he was, ducking under an Imperial's slash and slamming his fist into the offenders face. The man fell and didn't get back up. The younger man turned and made his way to the horses, sticking to the outside of the fighting. He untied the reins of his black stallion and was working on Cantus' pale mare when a shout went up. The land shook as several Imperials were knocked several feet away. Cantus looked on in shock as a blonde man in a fur trimmed cloak hacked at an Imperial soldiers neck. Cantus knew him, and his blood boiled at the sight.

Ulfric Stormcloak.

Before he could even think of acting, a Breton came from behind him and slammed the pommel of his sword into Stormcloaks head. The Jarl fell to his knees and slumped to the ground. A cheer went up at his fall and the Stormcloaks quickly surrendered. Cantus chuckled humourlessly. So much for their Death or Glory attitude.

Cantus scanned for his younger friend and paled. He was fighting off three Imperials, and as he watched he was caught off balance. One Imperial pressed the advantage and slammed his shield into his young friends face, kncking him to the ground. He tried to recover but another Imperial kicked at he sat up, catching him in the side of the head. He slumped heavily. Cantus cursed, burning with a need to act but all he could do was watch impotently as his friend was bound and hauled into a cart.

Braches snap to his side and he turns, gasping in pain as his ribs bite into him. The black horse, with its glowing red eyes, nudges him as he straightens, knees popping. Cantus groaned. He really was getting old. But there were things he had to do before he let Arkay take him. He patted the horse and rubbed it's face. "Don't worry Shadowmere, we'll get that fool back."

Cantus hoped he convinced the horse. He wasn't sure he could convince himself.

A/N: Reference to the Riverwood Chicken of Death! So that's our prologue, hope it was vague enough. Read and review peeps!