She wasn't a hero. She wasn't strong, nor was she much of an importance. No, she was simply a stable hand for the Blades. Her name was Valeth, and she was a bosmer with long red hair, emerald eyes and pale skin. Her build wasn't for fighting, though her arms and legs had strength due to the many years as a stable hand; with a sharp wit and strong determination as her main attribute.
So when the Blades asked her to retrieve a man named Martin from Kvatch, she was shocked to say the least. They had given her a set of leather armor that was too big for her small frame, an iron long-sword and standard bow and arrows then sent her off on a paint horse named Lili, despite her confusion and reluctance to carry out the task. Not only was she largely un-equipped for the journey and possible dangers, she had barely left the Cloud Temple since they had taken her in though the idea of seeing new places intrigued her.
It was a weeks journey to Kvatch if she was lucky. It would have gone faster had they given her a black horse, but she didn't mind, the gentle mare was good company, making their long journey less lonely.
Valeth slowed to a halt, her eyes widening in horror. She gazed upon Kvatch, the city blazing with fire whilst screams of terror and pain resonated off the crumbling walls. Terror struck her heart as she ushered the horse to a gallop, making her way to the front walls.
"Stand back citizen!" The Kvatch commander warned her. Valeth didn't hear him, her eyes fixated to the nightmare before her. An arch of thorns and flames stood tall, emanating an essence of pain and suffering. An overwhelming sense of dread befell her, and it took all of her will not to maneuver Lili away and far from Kvatch. Her attention snapped back to the present and she shook her head at her cowardly thoughts.
"What can I do to help?" The question tumbled out of her mouth almost unwillingly. She herself doubted she could do anything against the destruction before her, but her stubborn urge to help reared its head at her consciousness. The commander glanced at her, doubtful. Not that she blamed him.
"I guess we could use your help. See if you can get past the Scamps, and into the Chapel. I need you to protect everyone there and help push back those demons,"
Valeth nodded and ran past the gate with her heart pounding in her ears and throat with fear and adrenaline as she clumsily dodged the blasts of fire aimed her way. Miraculously, she managed to throw open the city's gates and shut them behind her quickly. Valeth took a deep breath and closed her eyes, resting her head against the wood behind her. What on Nirn had convinced her to play hero, she didn't know and quiet frankly she was terrified and rightfully so. She cracked her eyes open and that's when she saw it, at least 'them'.
The courtyard around the Chapel was crawling with Scamps, who -to Valeth's immense relief- hadn't noticed her yet. They were pacing and slithering impatiently, their forked tongues flicking in and out of their maws in anticipation. Luckily, Valeth noticed, they were rather distracted even to go as far as strike out against each other, initiating spats and brawls between groups of them.
Hopelessness filled Valeth as she observed the scattered Scamps. There was no way in Oblivion that she could fight them off nor could she sneak past them. Valeth crouched low to the ground, her hand brushing against a large stone as she steadied herself. She grimly stared at the large rock, wallowing in her own self-pity. She fingered the stone as an idea popped into her head.
With resolve she took hold of the stone fully and searched for a place to throw it. Across from her hiding place was the remains of an alchemy shop, whose sign was still intact and tied to loose chains. A flicker of hope struck Valeth as she chucked the rock at the sign, striking it successfully. The sign gave way to its chains and clattered noisily to the rubble below. Ceasing their scuffle, the Scamps went to investigate the noise.
"Nocturnal guide me." Valeth whispered and dashed towards the Chapel as the Scamps were distracted. Part of her was screaming at her to just stop and leave the way she came, and the other was encouraging her, telling her she was doing the right thing. Regardless Valeth pushed on towards the Chapel, until four lines of white-hot pain seared down her un-armored arm. Valeth screeched and stumbled.
She was so close, the steps to the entrance just inches away from her booted foot. She searched for the source of her pain finding a snarling scamp foaming at the mouth clutching on to her blood soaked arm. Valeth screeched again, this time out of fear which gave her a boost of strength she didn't know she had. Desperately she yanked her arm away from the scamp gritting her teeth as it's claws scraped further and deeper into her pale skin. Nonetheless she burst forward.
Her boot collided with one stone step. Then another. She was almost to the third step when two pairs of clawed hands raked down her back, another onto her left leg. With no energy left to scream she moaned in pain and almost succumbed to the stars and spots in her eyes until a much more gentle and human hand yanked her forward by her leather chest-plate and pulled her into the Chapel. As the doors swung shut Valeth could hear and feel a blast of fire just inches from her face, thankfully blocked by the receding doors.
Valeth fell to the floor at the sound of the metal bar locking in place behind the doors. Her vision swam with white stars in an inky blackness. She could feel herself bleeding out on the rug beneath her draining her strength away with it. Faintly she could hear someone yelling, a feminine voice with a callous undertone to it.
"Brother Martin! Come quick, This woman needs healing!"
The voice lulled Valeth soothing her and calming her raging heart beat. The voice reminded her of Nina, the old stern but extremely kind cleaning lady at the Cloud Rulers Temple. Valeth drifted off to a peaceful sleep too weak to keep her eyes open and her mind aware of her surroundings.
Martin's healing spell flowed steadily into the mysterious woodelf's body carefully stitching and kneading her wounds closed as much as he could. He had the other refugee's gather as many healing potions as they could find which were all in a pile beside him along with a few magicka potions for himself. He had been pouring his healing spell into the girl for an hour now, and he was exhausted to say the least. The girl was honestly a mystery to him, how she had stayed out there away from the Chapel's safety for so long and had survived was astonishing. He had seen first hand what those scamps were capable of, and how much delight they had doing it.
Martin shuddered as images of innocent people were ripped to shreds by those disgusting creatures were brought forward to his consciousness. Martin of course held himself responsible in some way, he was powerless against the sudden swarm of Daedra and all he could do was usher people into the Chapel. He had thrown a few fireballs at the Scamps in the attempt to slow them down if they got too close to him or the civilians, but his attempts were futile.
Martin shook himself from his wandering thoughts. He could dwell over them later but not while he was healing someone who desperately needed it. He sighed as he paused to uncork one of the magicka bottles. She was almost completely healed now, but she would be a little sore for a while after she wakes up which is inevitable.
Martin paused in his healing as the girl scrunched up her face. Slowly she came-to, blinking her eyes open and groaning. Her hand flew to her head in pain and she eyed Martin suspiciously.
He watched her as she contemplated what to say.
"W-where am I?" Her voice was raspy and weak as it passed through her lips. Martins eyes softened and he blew a gentle breath from his pursed lips.
"You're in the Chapel in Kvatch." Martin paused and thought of what to say next, "Do you remember anything?" The red-headed elf chuckled as she limply raised her upper body up.
"Yeah," she nodded wincing; "I sure do... I-I'm looking for someone named Martin. I think he's a priest, would you know of his whereabouts?"
Martins eyes widened and his brow rose. "I am Martin. Might I know your name?" How ironic it was to Martin that the person whom she was in search of was indeed him, and the sudden way her face lit up in hope stirred his heart making him believe that maybe; just maybe there was hope.
"Hello Martin. My name is Valeth, from the hold of Bruma."