The Jewel of Cyrodiil. Assad knew the Imperial City to be nothing of the sort, but still, there was no denying it was nice to look at from across the Rumare. As long as he was that far away he could handle it. He couldn't stand the corrupt Captains of the Guard, the beggars that went hungry in the streets and the rich elite gorging themselves in the upper reaches of the city.

But something jerked him from his reverie. His companion, Buleul, a tall strapping Dunmer, with windswept hair and a kind disposition, was sitting on the side of the road laughing heartily at him.

"What?" Assad asked, puzzled by what was so funny.

"Well," Buleul admitted, "it just struck me as funny when you knew good and well we were headed to Kvatch, and you just keep on walking past the Anvil path, staring at the city."

Assad took a look around him. He had passed the fork in the path, and been completely forgotten where he was for a moment. But, still he didn't consider it that funny. He shrugged, and they continued down the correct path.

After they had walked a good distance, and were close to Skingrad, a Khajiit leapt into the road from the trees on the left. He strode toward them confidently, with either a smirk or a snarl playing on his face, which Assad could not tell, he had never been able to read the non-humanoid races. He thought he heard a whisper from the trees, something about roaches… But these thoughts were driven from his mind as the Khajiit reached them and stopped. He was short for a Khajiit, had leather armor, as well as shield, and a small mace that looked to be silver.

He said, in a casual and heavily accented voice, "Your money or lives travelers," as though one made death threats every day. It took several minutes longer for Assad to be shown why he had been so confident.

Buleul cocked his head, and replied, "We don't have much."

The Khajiit snarled and asked, "Is that right? Well, perhaps you should turn around, try to go somewhere else today boys, because you won't make it through this way without some septims."

Assad could see Buleul start to go for his sword on his hip, and followed suit. Buleul fought with a fine steel longsword, while Assad used a shortsword of silver, and a light iron shield. And before they could blink there were five Khajiit in a loose circle around them, some with swords out, some with bows drawn.

Buleul looked at Assad, and he knew instantly what to do. They both closed their eyes, and Assad lifted his left hand high into the air, to do his best spell. He saw a flash through his eyelids, and heard screams and yowls from the Khajiit. He ran to the other side of where they had been ambushed, and noticed that Buleul had beat him there and had rounded on them, apparently wishing to fight. Assad had no intention of fighting, but he also didn't want to abandon his friend to the Khajiit, who, incidentally were regaining their eyesight and forming a line of shields facing them. Two of their archers flanked the line of three shields. It didn't look good.

At all.

Lornz gro-Klash thought there was something wrong because he had heard shouting. And Freezing Rain knew there was something wrong because he couldn't see anything but white. Lornz turned first to the aid of his newfound companion. The unlucky Argonian mage seemed to have doubled over in pain and was obviously in need. But then he stood back up and shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and his eyes. The burly Orc asked, "What's wrong? Is someone in trouble?"

The mage looked at him, puzzled. Then he said, "Why do the tough ones always have to be so noble?" He heaved a great sigh then explained, "They're fighting on the road just there," pointing to a spot about 40 yards away.

And with those words, he was already sprinting towards the road, taking his axe from his back, and yelling a fearsome battle cry.

Freezing Rain paused, checked to see whether he had his spellbook, and paused again. Why should he go fight? He didn't like to fight people with weapons. But there would be others fighting up close, so he could stand back and take it easy, relatively.

Assad didn't know what had happened, all of the sudden there was an Orc charging out of the forest at the right flank of the Khajiit battle line. He swung his mighty axe down, and easily cleaved off his bow arm. Unfortunately, he had let go a moment before he had his arm severed, but there was again no time to think about that now. He charged at the far-left man, the other archer, who loosed his arrow, but it glanced off his shield harmlessly. In an instant he had abandoned his bow, and drawn a claymore from the baldric on his back, which halted Assad's charge considerably, and he stood his ground waiting for something to happen. But nothing did for a few moments and that was long enough for the Orc to make his way to the other side of the group, and the group of Khajiit to make itself into a loose box formation, with two facing the Orc, and two facing him. He bared his lower fangs and challenged the Khajiit to a "fair one-on-one fight." But the Khajiit scoffed at him, and twirled their weapons menacingly, and then the Orc straightened up and lowered his axe slightly. He said, "Very well, if you choose not to fight me evenly, then I won't either! Freezing Rain, now!"

Assad looked up, but he didn't think that there were any Orc mages at all, much less ones powerful enough to call down rain, but then again, that didn't sound like any spell he had heard either.

"…Fuego!"

Now that's a spell, thought Assad. The Khajiit that had stood in the middle of the line at first, and was now on the right, facing Assad, was hit by a fireball, and he convulsed away from it, but to no avail. He could smell the burning hair, and managed not to wretch and the stench. He however could not bring himself to charge now, not till he could get a breath without tasting burnt hair. The other three Khajiit backed away from their slowly burning comrade and Assad heard yet another fierce battle cry. So, he decided now would be the time to charge, while there was another charge going on at the other side of the group and the burning smell was still a distraction. He also cried out and charged. He saw that the Orc warrior had already dispatched of his first new target, and now he fought the one wielding the claymore, so Assad directed his efforts to the spokesman of the group, who had the silver mace. He stabbed low, at the left leg, but the blow was parried by the shield, and the Khajiit followed through in a type of spin move that would have brought the mace down onto Assad's head. That is, if he had been there for it. But he had other things troubling him at that point in time.

"The stinking cat. The stinking cat. Aim for the stinking Khajiit." This is what Freezing Rain told himself as he was aiming his lightning spell that he was reading at that moment. But the Imperial charged a moment too soon, and he could only hope his aim had improved since his last shot at the group of Khajiit. He had been aiming for the one diagonally across from him in the box. But still, at least he had hit one of them right?

He finished the spell and watched as it left his hand and streaked to the Imperial's leg, making him fall to the ground and narrowly avoid a blow from the surprised cat's mace.

Assad hadn't ever been hit by a lightning spell before, he had only been hit by a very small fire spell before, not much compared to what apparently had hit the first Khajiit. But he did not enjoy this spell, it was as though someone had stuck his right leg into an icy lake, but then instantly dipped it into Oblivion itself. He was sure he was done for, that the Khajiit would finish him now. But to his utter surprise the pain in his leg and throughout his body faded, to only a dull ache in his leg just above the knee, and he was able to roll out of the way of another mace swipe.

He stood, and backed away slowly, hoping the Orc would save him from further combat, but he appeared to be locked, axe with claymore, with the other remaining Khajiit. So, Assad decided once again to fight, but this time, he would wait for the Khajiit to strike first, that way, maybe he would leave himself open to a counter of some sort. He only hoped the mage would choose not to intervene anymore.

Lornz gave his axe a mighty twist and wrenched the claymore from the Khajiit's hands. He then dropped his axe, perpetually bent on fighting fairly, and picked up the stunned cat by his neck and threw him into his only remaining companion. Both toppled over, and the Imperial, by the looks of him, couldn't have been more grateful for not having to fight the Khajiit. Lornz grabbed his axe from the ground and gave each of the creatures a wallop on the side of the head, knocking them out cold.

Assad looked at the Orc with a quizzical gaze. Why had he only knocked them out? Shouldn't he have killed them thoughtlessly? He was an Orc after all, and they were known for their bloodthirsty ways. But this also meant that he probably wouldn't harm him or Buleul, which was good; they needed to make their way to Kvatch as quickly as possible.