Chapter 2

Get out Alive

"Getting in is always the easy part. Getting out, there's the trick. Getting out in one piece? Sometimes that's more luck than anything."- "An Unofficial pocketbook for Thieves."-Written by Marvadine Shadowtalons. Published 3E 386

The first thing that Hammel heard were Ralof's casually spoken words, "I can't see my own chin-hairs in this darkness." The words originated from everywhere and nowhere, location impossible to discern in the blackness. If Hammel had to guess, he'd say the duo was behind him, but then again, he wasn't exactly a gambling man.

"Ralof," Lianna's words carried just a tiny hint of sarcasm, "You can't normally see your chin-hairs."

"True that," Ralof answered with a chuckle. "Could you light a torch? I'd rather not escape the block just to break my neck fumbling around in the darkness like some drunk."

"Give me a moment. I'm not a god you know." A fumbling noise came from the High Elf's general direction as she scrambled around in the dark for a torch. A few quiet words were muttered, then a blast of fire erupted from her right hand, blazing over a nearby wall-sconce. The tinder within erupted into glorious light, chasing the ensnaring darkness away.

The entrance chamber now visible, Hammel glanced about, taking in the chamber's details. The walls and floor were crafted from solid stone, a flag dominated the left side, an empty weapon rack the other. In the center of the room sat a large table, surrounded by several chairs. Slumping against said table was a dead Stormcloak, throat slashed open his blood staining the surrounding wood.

Ralof's eyes fell at the sight of the fallen rebel. "Swift journey to Sovngarde brother," the blond Stormcloak murmured softly. "You might as well help yourself to Gunjar's kit. He won't be needing it where he's going." The words were soft, but undoubtedly directed towards Hammel.

"Be respectful!" Lianna snarled, pointing her shovel at the Nord threateningly.

"One problem," Hammel stated casually, pointedly ignoring Lianna's threat, "My hands are still bound. I can't do much of anything."

"Oh right," Ralof stated, "How foolish of me! Hang on." Looking over the table, Ralof's eye fell upon an iron dagger. The tool was stained with food and coated in rust, clearly designed more for eating than killing, still it would do for now. Snatching the dagger up, Ralof approached Hammel. "Now, hold still while I get these off."

The prisoner held his bound hands outward, shrugging casually. "I'm a statue." Ralof chuckled but Lianna didn't seem amused. Pressing the rusted blade against the ropes binding Hammel's hands together, the renegade slashed them a few times. It took several passes, but the ropes finally broke with a loud twang.

Shaking his hands to throw off what remained of the ropes, Hammel rubbed his chaffed wrists to get the circulation flowing again. "Thanks." Bending down over what was left of Gunjar, the Nord began pulling off the supple fur boots covering the fallen warrior's feet.

"Don't mention it," Ralof answered warmly, "Now Lianna and I are going to look for a way out of here. Get that gear on."

Hammel almost groaned with pleasure as his feet snuggled up against the soft rabbit-hide. Later, he'd get his feet cleaned and bandaged, but for now, the boots were fine. He'd rather get out of the keep alive and a little sore, than spend his last moments in comfort.

Removing the fur gauntlets on the rebel's person, Hammel pulled them on snugly. He was reaching for the chain-mail shirt covering Gunjar's torso when he heard voices.

"I don't give a damn what you think! There's a dragon running rampant through my town! On top of that, we've got a full blown prison outbreak on our hands! We can't deal with both. You see a prisoner, you put him down, got it?" The voice was harsh and female, leaving Hammel with little doubt who it belonged too.

"Hide, you fool!" Lianna hissed, pressing herself against the table. Ralof dropped to the cold, stone floor, shifting back into a corner. With only a few moments to spare, Hammel threw himself against the wall directly adjacent to the iron gate he'd failed to notice earlier. The captain's voice had drifted up through said gate, moving with purpose in the escapee's direction. From his new position against the wall, Hammel could see a solid oak door on the opposite side of the room. He nodded towards it, trying to ask the question, fight or flight? Ralof shook his head. Locked.

It would be fight then.

"Where's Hadvar?" Another voice, male and nervous, inquired, "He was right behind us."
"Whoever falls behind stays behind, you know that!" The captain snarled. "Now get this gate open! We need to get back out there!"
The gate rattled for a moment, accompanied by some voices muttering about "Getting us all killed," then swung open. Two standard Imperial Legionaries dashed into the room, swords drawn. Behind them, sword in one hand shield in the other, strode the captain. She may have been the shortest person in stature but she was largest in stance.

Springing to his feet, Ralof dashed towards the Imperials, screaming, "Skyrim!" At the top of his lungs. Lianna leapt over the table, shovel in hand, standing side by side with her husband.

Ralof and one of the soldiers were already trading blows by the time the captain ordered, "Take no prisoners!" She took several steps forward, intent on skewering Lianna in the back, while the rebel deflected sword strikes with her shovel. The Imperial's plans were thwarted when she was struck from behind by an onrushing cart of hatred and fury.

A cart of hatred and fury named Hammel Greymist.

Slamming face first into the floor, Hammel on her back, the captain lost the grip on her sword. The blade went flying, skipping off the stones into the shadows of the far right corner. Flipping her over, so she was face to face with him, the escapee snarled, "Payback!" Striking her right in the nose with his fist, Hammel put all his fury behind the blow. Cartilage broke and blood flew as the first blow received an encore. Hammel was bringing his fist back for a third strike when the captain responded. Smashing her shield upwards, she bashed Hammel in the chest, throwing him off.

His back hit the stone with a raw smack, stars flashing before his eyes. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Hammel rose again. The captain was moving for her sword; blade verses fists was no contest. Ralof's latest double swing had dropped his opponent, while Lianna's lack of proper weapon had forced her against the wall. Her magic was useless, because the second it would take to cast would be a second too long. She'd be dead before she finished.

Neither of them would be able to help him, this battle was his alone.

Taking three quick steps to build momentum, Hammel rushed the captain again, wrapping his hands around her neck from behind.

Hammel began squeezing. He might have been stronger, but the captain was tough and unafraid of fighting dirty. Snapping her head back, her solid steel helm kissed Hammel's unprotected face. The jagged rise added yet another scar across the Nord's forehead. Falling away, Hammel's hands grasped desperately, wrapping around the helmet's cheek-guards.

Snapping suddenly, the chin strap on the helmet broke, sending Hammel back a step, the captain's helmet still in his hand. The woman rushed away, making another play for her fallen sword. Hammel did the only thing he could think of.

He grabbed the captain by the shoulder, yanking with all his might. His strength and momentum proved enough to spin her around. The captain was face to face with Hammel for a split second; that was all the time he need. Fist clutching the remains of the chinstrap, the Nord swung.

Steel helmet met unprotected face in a spray of blood and snapping of bone. The captain staggered back, three teeth shattered, bleeding from several open cuts. She seemed shocked to have been struck. The move was so effective that Hammel hit her again. Falling onto her back, the captain lay there, bleeding out, face almost unrecognizable. Taking the helmet in both hands, Hammel raised it over his head then, with all his might, slammed it down onto his foe's face.

There was a squishing noise, similar to smashing a watermelon, a little resistance, then limpness. Tossing the blood-soaked helmet away, Hammel went to the now deceased captain's belt, looking for a key or anything that would let them get further into the keep.

"Nice job," Ralof commented, gazing at the remains of the captain with a look that implied both utter respect and total disgust. "Not very clean though."

Finding the desired key and yanking it free from the belt Hammel shrugged, "I had to improvise."

"Here," Lianna stated, tossing an Imperial made longsword across the room to the kneeling nord, "This might be cleaner."

Catching the blade in mid-air, Hammel responded by throwing the key over to Ralof. "See if that fits in the door. I'm grabbing a second one"

Lianna raised a single black eyebrow, "Fancy huh? Don't get us killed with your theatrics."
Hammel gave a sarcastic bow, "I live to serve my lady." Moving off into the corner before the elf could reply, the Nord snatched up the captain's fallen sword.

Weighing the blades against each other, Hammel took a few experimental swings. His arms felt oddly heavy and his feet stiff. The inactivity of riding the cart seemed to have strained him somewhat, made him rusty. Still, he knew that he'd be back into combat readiness soon enough. He simply hoped it would be fast enough.

Ralof growled a few times, wiggling the key in the lock for a couple moments. A satisfying click sounded, eliciting a shout of triumph and a pumped fist from the Stormcloak. "It worked! By Talos it worked!"

"That's great dear," Lianna stated, a bit coldly, "Now come on! Let's get moving!" Hammel noticed the elf had ditched her shovel for the last of the Imperial swords. Judging by the way she held it, the blade wasn't made in her typical style. Still, far better than the shovel though.

"Right you are!" Ralof put his boot against the door, slamming it aside. "Let's go!"

Hammel took the lead, sword in each hand. Bolting through the corridor, his eyes took in everything. Torches still lit, chairs and barrels overturned, a few bodies scattered here and there. His ankles were still stinging from the pain of a thousand tiny cuts, making concentration difficult. To distract himself from the agony Hammel asked Ralof, "Do you have any idea where this hallway leads?"

The blond nord shook his head, "None. Though the cart of lettuce we passed a ways back," the nord rebel nodded his head back at said cart, "Implies a storage room." The trio of escapees pounded down a short flight of stairs, "I'd be careful though, the last thing we want is more Imperials than we can take." Outside the keep, the dragon's might roar was heard again, chilling those inside despite the stone walls. "Then again, they seem to have their hands full."

"You heard that captain Ralof," Lianna pointed out, sword still drawn, "If they see us they won't hesitate before attacking. Dragon or no."

The stairs ended, hallway leveling out before them. A few steps ahead, the corridor bent to the left, hiding the location of any possible soldiers. Ralof pointed this out; to Hammel's joy it seemed his new friend had some decent military experience. Pressing his back against the wall, the Nord peaked around the corner. To the right of his gaze was an oak door, straight onward, the hallway continued going down farther into the keep, directly on his left a stone wall dominated. "We're clear for now," Hammel reported, his voice hoarse, "Don't know for how long."
"Then we'd better move now." Lianna stated, brandishing her sword before her. "Come on, before more guards show up."

Dashing from the cover of the corridor, the trio began moving down the hallway swiftly and silently, alert for any soldiers. But the danger wasn't coming in the form of physical enemies. Hammel's highly trained military senses picked up on the rumbling of the roof above. A quick glance upward showed cracks shooting rapidly across it. "Get back now!" The escapee roared, flinging himself backwards.

Lianna and Ralof complied without argument, backpedaling with the speed of a beggar fleeing an angry mark. Even as the moved, the hallway gave in, collapsing right before them. Rubble completely filled the passage where the trio had been standing only moments before. No going that way any more.

"I wonder how..." The dragon roared again, cutting off any doubt in Ralof's mind as to the source of the tunnel's mysterious collapse. "Dragon's persistent, I'll give it that."

Ignoring Ralof's half-compliment of the creature trying to kill them all, Hammel glanced back at the door. "I guess we're going that way after all."

Standing shakily to her feet, Lianna went back to check the door while the two men gathered their wits. "It isn't locked," she assessed after a moment, "But people are talking on the other side." She pressed a pointed ear against the wooden barrier for a moment, listening. Spitting on the floor she gave a report, "Imperial's from the sound of it."

Drawing his war axes, Ralof smiled. "I suppose we'll have to kill a few more of the Empire's lapdogs on the way out."

"What do you say to shock and awe?" Hammel inquired, face straight, though doing a poor job masking his enthusiasm for the idea.

"Good plan." Ralof kicked in yet another door, leading the charge as the trio stormed in. They were greeted by a storeroom, ordinary. A fireplace roared in one corner, while a table, covered in food sat unbothered by the chaos around it. Several cupboards and barrels surrounded the simple room, while various pieces of game hung from the ceiling. Two Legionaries were going through the barrels while a third was gazing at the door the Hammel and the Stormcloaks had just entered through. A Sargent was in the middle of giving orders when the door gave way, escapee's spilling into the room, brandishing weapons and shouting.

"Kill them!" The Sargent roared, dropping the wooden case in his hands to go for the sword at his waist. The guard was already charging the Stormcloaks and Hammel while the other two soldiers were reacting.

Hammel met the guard head on, sword in each hand, a snarl contorting his features. "Bloody prisoner!" The Legionnaire shouted, swinging his blade high. Hammel blocked the clumsy strike with his right sword, simultaneously plunging the blade in his left through the guard's stomach. With a look of shock and a grunt, the soldier collapsed, blood gushing from the hole in his gut.

Across the room, Ralof buried both his axes right in the face of one of the Imperials, while Lianna threw a wall of fire over the Sargent. Ralof moved to assist his wife, leaving the last soldier for Hammel.

Gingerly stepping over the body of the dead legionnaire at his feet, the Nord approached the survivor. This Imperial rushed him, swinging high, low, then high again. The flurry of blows put the warrior on total defense, forcing him to pivot backwards, so his unprotected back was against one of the cupboards. The Imperial lunged, fully intent on running Hammel through with his blade. The Nord blocked with his right handed blade again, jabbing outward with the left.

The Legionnaire hopped to the side, narrowly dodging the blow but completely unprepared from the swing from the warrior's right. Hammel's blade took him in the side of the face, striking with enough force to launch the enemy solider backwards. The now dead trooper hit one of the cupboards head first, smashing through the lower shelf and supports. This prompted the whole unit to collapse, burying the fallen soldier under wood, tankards, pans and slices of bread.

The sounds of battle ceased as the Sargent fell, unprotected head split open from a well placed axe blow. The three victors stood silently for a moment, catching their breath after the short but fierce confrontation.

Eyes falling upon an empty sack, Hammel sheathed both his blades, grabbing the goat-hide bag. He began shoveling things into it, bread, wine, potions, septims, even silverware.

"Might I ask, what in Oblivion you're doing?" Lianna snapped, looking scathingly at the Nord.

"Gathering supplies," Hammel responded casually, pulling a full rabbit off of the ceiling, "I don't know where we are. I'd rather spend a few minutes now grabbing some things that may prove useful, than die of starvation because I ended up in the Throat of the World."

Lianna looked back at her husband to make a comment, only to see him following Hammel's example. The blond Stormcloak having popped open a barrel and rapidly began shoving the potions it contained into a sack of his own. "Fine," Lianna stated, jabbing her head in the direction of the double doors leading out of the storeroom. "I'll just guard the exit until you've grabbed enough trinkets."

Her words, laced with disdain, barely registered on Hammel, "Alto wine," he murmured, looking at the bottle in his hand, "A hundred year vintage," he almost salivated at the thought of that wine running smoothly down his throat, cleaning out the grime coating his insides. Finishing his looting with a guard's coin purse and a hunk of goat cheese, Hammel tied the bag shut. "Ready to move." His words were simple, direct and full of promise. The promise of pain for anyone who got in his way. Slinging the sack across his shoulder, Hammel drew his blades once again, ready for anything Skyrim would throw his way.

Ralof followed suit, sack over shoulder, axe in each hand. "Get that door open Lianna. We've been in this keep far too long."

"My pleasure." Giving a vicious smile the Altmer rammed her shoulder into the double doors, throwing them aside with resounding thuds. Striding forward, the trio advanced into the hall, grim looks of determination capable of sending a Dremora fleeing in terror.

"Did you hear that?" Ralof asked after a moment of travel, straining his ears against the general noise.

"Steel on steel," Hammel answered, already moving down the hall as fast as he could. His ankles and body screamed at him in agony, it had already taken a massive pounding from the day's unexpected labors and constant pushing, but the Nord willed the pain away. He could rest later, get cleaned up later, eat later; right now he had work to do.

The walls grew darker around him, almost more ominous as the escapees went further into the keep. The tunnel became less even, more natural, Hammel got a sinking suspicion where the chamber would lead. This tunnel was meant to be traveled very rarely, avoided if at all possible. Only two rooms in such a stronghold held functions best avoided and the smell wafting up the hallway wasn't feces.

The room they entered boldly lacked a door, almost daring the keep's residents to enter it. A trio of crudely designed cages sat pressed against the back wall, each containing the remains of someone unlucky enough to have entered the torture chamber as a guest of honor. Two hanging cells dipped down from the ceiling, both currently empty, but the stained iron preaching of use. A ramshackle wooden table occupied another corner, covered both in torture instruments and embalming tools, never meant to be used for this function. A large, sealed area was filled with books, weapons, potions, anything the on duty torturer might need.

The details of the room were secondary to Hammel, what mattered were the occupants. Next to the cages, a young man in simple robes was banging his mace repeatedly against the shield of a Stormcloak. The blocking warrior held a sword but was unable to bring it to bare, any kind of opening would be fatal. The other Stormcloak was young, female and built like a snow bear. The giant warhammer clutched in both powerful hands should have made short work of the old, robed man before her. But this man, the head torturer judging from the blood on his robes, had the gift of magic. Blazing forth from his hands with crackling power, lightning continued striking the Stormcloak, slowly burning her to death. Her face contorted in agony, the Stormcloak was down on one knee, hands gripping the warhammer's handle for support.

The old man laughed insanely, advancing slowly on the fallen warrior, "Death to you! Death to you and all your vile rebel friends!" His magical lightning grew stronger, his eyes dancing with the fires of maniacal energy.

Torture was something that Hammel could not abide. He'd kill a man in a fair fight, or a not so fair fight, or if he was paid to but torture? That was sick and unnecessary.

Striding across the torture chamber without pause, Hammel approached the torturer from behind, almost silent. The old man had no knowledge of the Nord in life, he would have none in death.

Running both swords through the torture master's chest casually, Hammel kicked the corpse to the floor, watching curiously as the lightning faded away. The assistant gaped at the sight of his master laying dead on the ground. The pause provided the assistant's opponent ample opportunity to lop off his ugly head. The now headless man hit the floor, blood oozing out from a now empty neck.

Hammel sheathed one sword, offering an empty hand to the kneeling Nord woman. Looking up at the warrior for a moment, the short, stocky Stormcloak scrutinized him, then accepted, clasping her hand around his forearm. "Thanks," she stated, sounding sincere enough as he hulled her to her feet. "I thought that old bugger had me there." Her eyes fell past Hammel's shoulder to fall upon Ralof, "Ralof! You made it! What about the others? Did you see anyone?"

"Natala!" Ralof exclaimed happily, crossing the room to clap the woman on the shoulder, "Good to see you alive." He looked past her at the man, "You too Thangar." Thangar just nodded, glancing down the pathway out of the chamber. The renegade looked back towards Natala, "To answer your question, we haven't seen anyone else. We gathered in one of the guard towers with several others, including Jarl Ulfric, but got separated. Have you seen anyone else?"

Natala shook her head. "Only in the courtyard, but with that dragon flying overhead, finding cover was the most important thing in our minds. Thangar and I wanted to avoid any entanglements." Gazing down at the remains of the Imperial torture master at her feet, she grinned wryly. "We almost succeeded." Her eyes fell upon Hammel again, looking the Nord's equipment over, "You should probably put some armor on." She commented, glancing at his ragged trousers and crudely spun tunic, "Those aren't going to block any blades."

Hammel shrugged, "I'll grab armor when I have time. Where does that tunnel lead?" His free hand pointed down a path leading out of the torture chamber, this one obviously natural.

"Based on the notes we found," Thangar answered, speaking for the first time, his face hidden behind a full helmet commonly found on the heads of town guards. "This leads into the mountains, coming out somewhere west of Helgen. If you make it out of the tunnels in one piece you should be home free."

"Why if?" Lianna asked, "There can't be anything more dangerous than a few wolves in there."

"Ordinarily," Natala answered, shooting several sideways glances at the tunnels, "But Thangar and I heard movement down there and voices. Sounded Imperial, probably trying to escape."

Ralof chewed his lip a moment then answered, "Tell you what, you two stay here as long as possible, send anyone else who makes it out our way. We'll clean these tunnels of Imperials as we escape." The blond Nord looked over to Hammel with a question look, "That's alright with you...?"

Hammel realized that Ralof didn't know his name, "Hammel, Hammel Greymist. And it's fine by me, as long as we don't come back here." He didn't want to admit it, but the torture room was giving him the chills. He was Nord, he didn't chill easy.

"Alright," Both Thangar and Natala seemed fine with this solution, neither of them keen on exploring the tunnels.

"Talos be with you," Ralof blessed, "If you get overwhelmed retreat, no sense dying over this filth pile."

His orders were met with nods of agreement, "You too," Thangar answered, nodding his helmeted head, "Be careful down there."

Without another word, the three moved down the cave tunnel, away from fallen torturers and living allies, further into hostile territory but also closer to the cool, free air of Skyrim. Moving as silently as possible, the trio moved over several bumps and around several bends. A brown bear almost proved dangerous; fortunately, she was sound asleep, the escapees sneaking by her without incident.

After ten or so minutes of stealthy travel, voices could be heard up ahead, Imperial voices judging from their accents and dialogs. The tunnel the escapees occupied bent sharply to the right, opening up into a large cavern. The voices heard were drifting up from said cavern.
"But we have orders to help General Tullius in a situation like this!" That voice held a Nordic tinge; it seemed the escapees would be facing their own blood.

"Hang our orders!" Another voice crisply answered, this one Imperial in birth, not just employment. "We can't help the general very much if we're dead now, can we?"

"Shut up you two!" This voice was Redguard, sounding very annoyed, "We barely made it out of there! And we still aren't out of the woods yet." There was a pause and the sound of shuffling bodies, "Grogrot! Get those three moving!"

"But Titus took an arrow through the knee! We're moving as fast as we can!"

"Can it Julius!" Undoubtedly an Orc, the voice rumbled, "Dump his useless ass if you have to, we need to get out of here!"

Hammel glanced out from behind the cover of his corner, taking the scene in before him. There were seven legionaries, in various states of injury, moving through the cavern ahead. Four of them, those speaking, were in the front, swords and maces drawn. In the back, two other legionaries were helping a third between them, moving the groaning soldier as fast as they could. The soldier Julius, seemed to be one of that trio.

"I've got a knack for taking people out without them knowing," Hammel whispered, glancing back at Ralof, "Commander once said, I could shoot the wings of a fly without warning his brother. You wouldn't happen to have a bow by any chance?"

Ralof's bearded face cracked into a smile, "Now that you mention it..." Lowering his sack to the ground, the Stromcloak removed a simple wooden longbow and a dozen iron arrows. "Don't miss."

Accepting the offered weapon, Hammel looked at both Stormcloaks, "When the first Imperial hits the ground go charging in, Ralof, take whoever you can, Lianna use magic." He looked back into the cavern grimly, "If we don't even these odds quickly it'll end badly for us." Both warriors nodded, faces set in a ready expression. "Alright, let's go."

Creeping into the new area, hidden in the shadows, Hammel strung the bow. Notching an arrow, he surveyed the possible targets.

Who dies first?

It became obvious that one in the back team should feel the cold hand of death soonest. Hammel mentally drew straws for the three in the back. The supporting Legionnaire on the left got the short one.

Sorry friend.

Hammel pulled the string back to his ear, took aim then silently released the arrow. The iron tipped shaft sailed through the air, slamming into the back of the unfortunate soldier's neck. With a gargle, the Imperial slumped to the ground, dropping his wounded comrade. A second arrow put the injured soldier out of his misery before anyone was aware what had happened. Julius drew a blade, his face revealed in the light. He was helmet-less, his handlebar mustache proved no deterrent for Ralof's axe.

Screaming war cries, the two Stormcloaks dashed past the long-haired corpse, face neatly bisected, approaching the four remaining Legionaries. Hammel raced after them, slinging the bow over his shoulders for now, drawing both blades as he moved.

"The elf is mine!" The Orc howled, his steel morning-star clutched tightly in a powerful green fist, the other glowing with some sort of magical power. Two of the others went at Ralof, the Redguard and Nord crossing blades with the blond Stormcloak. That left the remaining Imperial to face Hammel. Drawing his shield and war axe, the soldier dashed in, shield leading. Hammel leaned back, dodging the Imperial's attempted shield bash. Launching a three strike attack, Hammel attempted to keep the soldier on his toes. While his adversary managed to block the trio of deadly strikes, it left him unprepared for Hammel's next move.

The Nord kicked the Legionary in the ankle, putting all his anger behind the blow. The bone snapped, the light armor proving useless against Nordic rage and strength. Howling in pain, the Imperial fell, only to be forever silenced by the flashing blades of Hammel Greymist.

Glancing over, the former soldier saw Ralof holding his own just fine against the Redguard, the Nord already on the ground, bleeding his last. Lianna, on the other hand, seemed a bit outmatched. Raising a ward to block the fireballs the Orc was hurling her way, rather than attacking, the elf rebel took a step backward. Even as he moved, Hammel knew there was no way he'd reach her in time. The Orc advanced, licking his lips in anticipation of the kill, Morning-star held outright, when Lianna did something very unexpected.

Taking two steps back, the elf opened her mouth and shouted a single word, "Iiz!" For a second, the air around the advancing Orc rippled. Then, without warning, the Imperial battlemage froze solid, falling to the ground with an audible thump. The Redguard looked over for a second, long enough to get an axe in the throat. Hammel did his best to process this new information.

This elf, she can shout! How in Oblivion is that possible?

He'd have to get more details later, now was not the time.

Lianna grimly advanced on the frozen Orc, looked at him once, then stamped her boot over his frozen face. The Orc's head shattered, icy pieces of skull and brain rocketing off in all directions.

An eery silence fell over the cavern, broken only by the ragged breathing of the survivors and the gentle bubbling of the stream rolling through unperturbed. "Do you smell that?" Hammel sniffed once more, standing completely still. "Its a cool breeze, and it's fresh."

Lianna took several hesitant steps forward, raised a hand once then hissed excitedly, "This way, come on Ralof!" Her steps turned into a full blow sprint, blasting past her husband towards the fresh air. Ralof and Hammel followed closely, aches and pains all but forgotten. The tunnel grew wider, light starting to grow, the breeze so obvious now. The escapees could hear the wind howling, promising freedom. Pushing themselves to the limits the former prisoners blasted out of the tunnel, leaving the caves behind and revealing a free Skyrim stretched out before them.

They were standing on the outside of a small mountain, an obvious path down. Before them, a valley stretched outwards, towering pine trees dominating it. The might forests were broken only by a proud river, gargling its way through the valley. Promising salmon and fresh water, it beckoned a closer look. The very air around them was cold, crisp, yet so very delicious. It was like a painting, complete with cool blue sky and distant, snow-capped, mountains. A lone eagle shirked as it soared through the air, a few elk dashed over a log, a fox dashed under a shrub. After the long treacherous caverns, the basic wilderness seemed more lovely to Hammel than any woman.

Each took a moment to catch their breath, sucking the free air of Skyrim into their lungs. Helgen was nowhere in sight, smoke rising in the distance behind them. No Imperials, bears or any other enemy was present as far as the eye could see. They'd made it.

"Well, what no-?" Ralof's words were interrupted by the roar of the dragon responsible, flying towards them at breakneck speed. "Not again!" He cursed, throwing himself to the ground. "Get down, now!" Dropping to the dirt so fast he ate mud, Hammel swore as he, once again, injured himself. This time bashing his knee on a rock. Lianna took a different approach, falling back into the mouth of the cave, concealing herself in the shadows. The Nord didn't even dare to breath.

The dragon circled once overhead, roared once more, then pressed on. Flying down the valley towards the mountains in the distance, the dragon bellowed a mighty howl of triumph as if boasting to the world all destruction he'd caused.

"Okay," Hammel murmured, looking at the dragon growing steady smaller in the distance. "I think he's gone for good this time." The other two joined him in standing, gazing out over the wooded valley. "What do we do now?"

"If we keep moving," Ralof mused, stroking his beard, "I might find something recognizable."

"I'm not going another step without taking one of these," Hammel commented, dropping his sack to the ground. Opening the bag, the Nord withdrew three unmarked vials, each bubbling with a dull green liquid.

"Stamina potions," Lianna commented dryly, taking one as Hammel passed them around, "I'm surprised you can tell without a label."

The Nord shrugged, "They taught us to recognize potions in the Legion. Didn't want us poisoning ourselves by accident I suppose." Uncorking the little bottle, he swirled its contents gingerly, "Fair warning, this is the cheap stuff. That means it smells and tastes just like piss."

"More of a piss with ink taste," Lianna muttered, grimacing as she downed her shot.

"I'm sorry, why in Talos' name would I want to drink piss with ink?" Ralof muttered, looking down at the potion vial with casual disdain.

Hammel explained to his kinsman, "Because, after taking even this cheap stuff, you feel like you've had a nice long sleep and a piping hot meal. Chases the weariness right out of you." Cocking his thump back towards the cave mouth Hammel continued, "I'd rather take three steps away from here and not collapse. Yes the stamina potion doesn't taste like the healing potions we're all used to, but it serves its purpose. Now," he raised his vial, "Bottoms up."

The bottle's contents burned down his throat; he hadn't been kidding about the taste. Yet a few seconds later it was all worth it. That sore tugging on his muscles? That tired feeling in his lungs? All vanished, it was like a second wind. Smashing the bottle on the ground and grinding the shards underfoot, Hammel re-slung his pack, ready to roll out.

Spitting on the ground once, Ralof stated, "Well you were right about the taste. But you were also right about the effect, so I'll let this one slide." Hammel just smiled. "Come on," Ralof continued, "Lets get moving. If we stick around who knows what's coming out of that tunnel?"

No one had any real response for that, so the trio begun their journey down the mountain side, into the valley. Physically refreshed by the potion but emotionally still weary even a little wounded. No one who stares death in the face walks away completely unharmed. There are always scars, no matter how far they might be buried.


Had the trio waited a just few more moments at the exit, they would have heard someone come crashing out of the cave behind them. The man's boots were ragged and torn, smelling of smoke, armor tattered and stained. His sword dripped blood liberally, while his left arm fell mangled and useless against his torso. Pity he'd already used his only healing potion on a stab through the chest. His eyes held a vacant look, his face covered in blood and soot. However, despite all appearances, he was alive.

Hadvar looked around, judged where he was, then took off in the opposite direction the trio had gone. Crashing through the woods, running as fast as his wounded body would take him, one thought went pounding through Hadvar's mind.

Jarl Elisif needs to know what happened here.

AN

First of all, thanks for all the support! The encouragement for this piece has been overwhelming! Yes, I do realize in hindsight Hammel's kit does sound like Legolas. Oh well, I didn't think of the Elf at all when I designed this character.

Once again, thanks for reading. FUS RO DAH!