Lyana awoke. She quickly became aware that her hands were bound behind her back. Her head still throbbed from where the bandit had hit her with his sword pommel. She had been gathering ingredients for her adoptive father Elgrim who ran the alchemy shop in Riften when they had assaulted her. She had been orphaned early, her father had abandoned her mother who had died giving birth to her. She was taken into Honorhall Orphanage until Elgrim and his wife Hafjorg adopted her. A tear ran down her cheek as the harsh reality that she probably wouldn't ever see her adoptive parents again dawned on her.

"Is the little bitch crying?" snarled a bearded Nord sat on a fallen tree trunk and leaning on a large battleaxe. As her vision un-blurred she saw that there were another half a dozen or so bandits were sat around a large fire with a dead elk being revolved around on a spit-roast. "You'll have something to cry about soon, little girlie, I promise you that…" He was eyeing the young red haired Nord like she was a piece of meat and licking his mead soaked lips. "Tell me, girlie, how old are you?"

"Seventeen." She whimpered, not wanting to anger the bandit by not replying.

"Seventeen, eh? Are you a little virgin, girlie?" He sneered menacingly, advancing on her. She ignored him, focusing on getting out of her bindings. "I asked you a question… are - you - a - virgin?" His sneer became a vicious snarl as he got close enough for her to hear his rough breath.

"Yes." She could feel her bindings getting loose, she felt as if she had rope-burn to the bone. Her whimpering was now due to a combination of the emotional pain of her captivity and physical pain from her ropes.

"How has no one buried their cock in a pretty little thing like you? No matter, it's not like you're going to be a virgin for long…" He crouched down next to her. She knew what was coming next, but she didn't know how to prepare. Perhaps she should shut her eyes and pretend it was someone else. If she waited until he had exhausted himself she might be able to get away. "I'm going to fuck you girlie, I'm going to fuck you till I've split you in half like you're a piece of firewood." He was in her face now. She could feel his breath on her soft pale skin, it stank of Honningbrew Mead, which she silently vowed to never drink again if she survived.

As his rough hand began to run up her leg she tried to kick him away but he hit her in the face with the back of his hand. The blow was hard and hurt a lot but as it knocked her head to the side she saw a large rock that looked light enough to be picked up but heavy enough to deal some damage on impact. Before the bandit's hand could reach its destination and he could follow up on his threats he was interrupted by a thud over by where the rest of the bandits sat. Both Lyana and her captor looked over at the source of the noise.

The thud had been the head of one of the other bandits hitting the forest floor. The decapitated body was still sat in the same position as when it had been alive but now fell back with another louder thud. The decapitator was a Khajiit with orange and black tiger-like fur. He wore a suit of tight crimson and black leather armour with a black hand emblazoned on the chest that clung to his toned muscular form. In his hand was the sword that had just parted the unfortunate bandit's head from his shoulders. It was an Ebon-forged Akaviri Katana with the same red leather as his armour on the grip. The midnight black blade was still dripping with blood as the Khajiit raised it again as advanced on the other bandits.

The first bandit swung a greatsword at the Khajiit who ducked underneath the blade and cut his attacker across the stomach, and then rising back up as his enemy fell to the floor he brought his sword back and through the bandit's neck whilst keeping his yellow cat-like eyes fixed on the next bandit. The Khajiit's black feline lips curved into a smile as another head hit the floor followed by another headless corpse.

The bearded Nord abandoned Lyana and joined the other four remaining bandits, battleaxe in hand. She was almost out of her bindings when she realised that she wouldn't need her arms free to run, but she was somehow rooted to the spot, whether it was from fear or fascination she did not know but she continued to struggle with her bindings as she watched the five bandits advance on the one mysterious Khajiit.

"We take him together!" Commanded the Redguard that had knocked Leanna out with his pommel, who was apparently the leader.

The Khajiit's eyes flitted from bandit to bandit, studying their weapons: There was the Redguard leader who wielded a scimitar; an Argonian with a warhammer; a Dunmer with a shortsword; a Nord with a greatsword; and the Nord who just got up with a battleaxe.

They began attempting to surround their attacker and the evidently skilful Khajiit adjusted his stance, bending his knees slightly and raising his sword arm to shoulder height.

The Argonian swung first with his full force behind his hammer. In one seamless move the Khajiit ducked down and spun around as he dropped to his knee, swinging his blade with him. The Argonian and the Nord with the greatsword were caught in the swing and both of their intestines were spilled out on to the floor. As he rose he lunged for the Dunmer that was going to backstab him whilst he thought the Khajiit's attention would be drawn on the Argonian. His blade punctured through the Dark Elf and lifted him off his feet before he was thrown aside as the wielder turned to face his two remaining foes. He performed the move in a blur of red and black with an orange streak of his fur, moving like water, with agility and speed unnatural for even a Khajiit.

He advanced on the surviving Redguard and bearded Nord who were nervous at how quick the black and red clad killer had slaughtered their allies. The two warriors exchanged a nervous nod before attacking. The Redguard swung and the Khajiit blocked, locking swords with him. The Nord aimed a blow for the native of Elsweyr's waist and for a moment it seemed he had won as the Khajiit wouldn't be able to get his sword there in time, but he instead kicked the iron-clad barbarian in the chest and flung him through the air and into the mud where Lyana lay.

Lyana had now slipped out of her bindings and as her would-be-raper landed close to her. The Khajiit and Redguard broke away from each other and began to duel, scimitar to katana. The Khajiit disarmed and disembowelled the bandit leader without breaking a sweat and waited for the Nord to get up patiently as he spun his Ebon-forged blade round lazily.

Lyana grabbed the rock she saw earlier and pulled herself up. The Nord was pulling himself up on his axe as she silently advanced on him.

"This one is named Bjoten the Cruel?" The Khajiit's accent was strong but his words were clear.

"Yes… please-" His plea was cut short as Lyana struck the back of his unarmoured skull. The first blow knocked him to the dirt, the second drew blood, he was probably dead by the third but Lyana felt deep rage that she had not felt before boil up inside her. It made her blood boil and gave her strength she never knew she possessed. She had hit him three more times before the feeling wore off and she released the rock and slunk back down. She felt her own blood from her wrists mingle with the blood of the man that was now splattered over her. She had just caved in someone's skull, ended a life for ever. And she had enjoyed it.

The voice of the Khajiit snapped her back to reality. She looked up at him, he was studying her intently. "Does this girl have a name?"

"Lyana."

"A pretty name. This one is Do'hjar. A not so pretty name"

"Thank you, Do'hjar, he would have raped me if it wasn't for you. I may never be able to repay that debt. My father is not a rich man but-"

"Do'hjar has no need for your father's coin, I assure this one." He approached her and pulled out a small vial of liquid from a pouch on his belt beside his now sheathed sword. "Is this one hurt?"

Now that the thought crossed her mind her wrists still stung from the ropes and her head still throbbed from the scimitar pommel. She accepted the vial and swigged it down in a single gulp. She ignored the bad taste and felt the pain die away immediately from her wrists and head. After working as an alchemist's assistant for the majority of her life she knew her potions but had never encountered anything as strong.

"Who brewed this?"

"This one would not know them. Perhaps you will though after this." He indicated to the bandit Lyana had killed.

The Nord girl rose to her feet and looked around at the dense woods of the Rift. "I do not know the way back to Riften from here…"

"Do'hjar does. But we do not return to Riften." He said sinisterly

"What?" She felt like the terrified little virgin again, completely at the mercy of a complete stranger. Up until that point she had a feeling of trust for Do'hjar.

"Do'hjar was sent to kill Bjoten the Cruel. His life was property of Do'hjar's brotherhood. A life you took, a life that must be repaid." He drew his sword again with a screech of the ebon-forged blade being dragged across steel band at the top of the sheath.

Before Lyana could run or defend herself for the second time that day someone knocked her unconscious with the pommel of their sword.