Hello once again. Gone off on a good start, which is always good to happen. Here is the next chapter. Here's hoping you'd like it. I have left some bits out because, if I kept it to how it goes, well, it would be well over a few thousand words and I like keeping the chapters short. Without further ado, I am out of here and enjoy.
Hadvar and Witseva came into what looked like a dorm for the Imperial soldiers. They stopped to catch their breath.
"That... thing was a dragon, no doubt. Just the the stories and the legends. The bringers of the End Times." Hadvar informed.
"Stories? Legends?" Witseva asked.
"I'll tell you later, Witseva. Right now, let me see if I could get those bindings off of you." Hadvar answered.
Hadvar came up to Witseva. She felt the restraints getting strained, and fall away. Hadvar cut the bindings off with an iron dagger. Witseva subconsciously rubbed the scales on her sore wrists.
"Thank you."
"No problem, Witseva. There might be some equipment in that chest over there."
Witseva walked over to the chest and opened it. She saw an Imperial soldier' light armour, an iron sword and a key. She picked everything up and put the armour on, feeling relieved to be out of the ragged clothing. The feeling of the sword was partly foreign to her, as she was accustomed to daggers.
"You done?" Hadvar asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be." Witseva answered.
"Right. Let's go."
Hadvar opened up the door to a hallway. They jogged through it, ending in a gate and some of those prisoners on the other side.
"Can we... stop for a bit? I need to... catch my breath." One of the prisoners said.
"Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them." Hadvar informed, earning a curious stare from Witseva.
Hadvar opened the door and both calmly walked through.
"Can we just talk for a-" Hadvar tried to say, before the Stormcloaks attacked.
Both Stormcloaks branded two handed weapons. The female had a greatsword and the male had a war hammer. Hadvar took the Stormcloak with the war hammer on and that left the two females to fight.
Witseva held the iron sword tight, knowing full well what would happen if it were to get hit in a loose grip. The greatsword was swung, but Witseva dodged it. The female Stormcloak just kept swinging at Witseva, and she either parried or dodged the powerful swings.
The great sword was raised up high. Now was the time to strike. Witseva rushed forward and sent the tip through the female's throat. A look of shock was upon the Stormcloak. She dropped the sword, making it clang loudly as it hit the ground. Witseva yanked the sword out, spraying blood everywhere. Witseva's face, arm and torso was covered in the Nord's blood. Hadvar just finished with the other Stormcloak with a few shield bashes when he turned towards Witseva. He saw the aftermath of the brutality, with all the blood on the floor and on Witseva herself.
"Now, Hadvar. If you would so kindly, tell me who these 'Stormcloaks' are?" Witseva asked, wiping her sword on the corpse in front to her and sheathing it.
"Why do you ask?"
"I've been living in Black Marsh and, in Black Marsh, we don't hear news coming from the other provinces a lot."
"The Stormcloaks are a rebel group fighting to bring Talos back. I forgot to ask, are you familiar with the Divines?"
Witseva shook her head.
"Before the Great War, there were Nine Divines. Mara, Akatosh, Zenithar, Dibella, Arkay, Julianos, Kynareth, Stendarr and Talos were their names. The Thalmor, since they won the Great War, denounced Talos as a god. The Stormcloaks fight to bring Talos back, as they call themselves 'true Nords.'" Hadvar explained.
"You Men and Mer and this stupid religion." Witseva grumbled, shaking her head.
There was a door at the other end of the room. The two walked over to it. Hadvar tried to open the door.
"Damn it. It's locked."
Witseva silently stepped up and pushed Hadvar out of the way. Hadvar saw that Witseva had a key in her hand. She put the key into the lock. It fitted perfectly. She twisted it and the deadbolt moved away.
"It's locked no more." Witseva said.
She looked over at the corpses of the Stormcloaks. She spotted a dagger similar to the one Hadvar used on both of them. She took them both, putting the iron sword away for now. Finally feeling better, she walked over to Hadvar, who was on the other side of the door.
"Come on. Let's get out of here before the dragon brings the tower down on top of us." He said with a strange calm.
She followed Hadvar down the spiral staircase. She was aware of a faint rumbling sound while she was on the stairs. When they reached the hallway at the bottom, a bunch of rocks and debris fell from the roof and crashing onto the floor, blocking the hallway.
Witseva noticed a door leading off to the side. She also heard some faint noises when she put her head up against it. She opened it carefully, her assassin training coming back. She saw two Stormcloaks, both male. One had a shield and an axe, the other had two maces.
"What are you doing? We need to get out of here!" The one closest to her said.
"The Imperials left some potions in these barrels. I just need to get them." The other replied, searching through the barrel closest to him.
Witseva snuck her way over to the one arguing with his buddy to get out. Before she tried to slit his throat, she took out both of her daggers. She threw the one in her left hand towards the one at the barrels. It missed, lodging itself in the wall behind the barrels.
The Stormcloak turned around, maces drawn. He saw his comrade's throat being cut, an Argonian, brown as dirt, held the dagger that did the deed. He contemplated that the Argonian was female, as it had a different body structure to the regular dockworkers at Windhelm. She swapped the dagger to the left hand and drawing a sword with her right.
"I am Witseva Cadorees. Meet your death." She said, blue slits trained carefully on him.
The Stormcloak took several deep breaths. "FOR SKYRIM!" He yelled out, charging the short distance towards the Argonian.
When she was in range, the Stormcloak swung the mace in his left hand. The Argonian weaved under it, slicing the iron sword across but hit a part that was protected by a few pieces of steel. In response, the Stormcloak swung the right mace to the left.
The mace made contact with the Argonian's upper arm. A scream was followed by the hit. The Stormcloak smiled a bit at the pain he made, and tried to finish the Argonian off but his mind was directed to something sticking out of his chest. He looked down and saw the tip of an Imperial blade sticking out the front. It was pulled out, and the Stormcloak's soul made it's way to Sovngarde.
Witseva was still in pain, clutching her right arm. One of the spikes on the mace found it's way into the muscles. Luckily, the bone didn't receive too much damage.
"Witseva, calm down." Hadvar pleaded.
"Potions."
"What?"
"Check for potions."
Hadvar realised that the room they were in was a storeroom. He checked the barrel that Witseva was feebly pointing to. Inside were a few potions, ranging from stamina regen to health. He took a health potion out and gave it to Witseva.
"Now, don't drink it until after I check."
"Why?"
"Shut up and wait."
"Alright. The arm's good. Drink the potion." Hadvar said after two minutes of checking.
Witseva did, fighting against the bile growing in her throat. She felt the muscles in her arm knitting themselves back together. After the knitting finished, Witseva stood up and tested whether her arm was ok. It was, so she walked over to her dagger in the wall and yanked it out.
Hadvar was standing over near the door that lead out. He checked beforehand and, luckily, it was clear of rubble. Witseva took the rest of the potions from the barrel and walked over to him.
"Let's go." She said, not even looking at him.
'Ok. Something's not right about her.' Hadvar thought. Usually regular people aren't this brutal in combat or very straight to business. 'Hopefully I will know her soon. She's starting to freak me out.'
Hadvar opened the door and allowed Witseva through. Despite the gentlemanly act, Witseva didn't thank him. They heard sounds of metal on wood and purple lights coming from the bottom of the stairs. Without thinking, the two rushed down the stairs. Hadvar almost tripped over, not used to the speed at which they were going down.
They reached the bottom and saw two Imperials fighting against two Stormcloaks. With even less rational thought, the two rushed into the fray. Witseva drew her daggers and ran towards the closest Stormcloak and Hadvar went for the furthest one.
The lone Argonian leaped high and came bearing down on the beefed-up Nord. Thankfully, he wasn't wearing a helmet, so the dagger stab to the head Witseva made was proven fatal. In response to the brutality, the hood-wearing old man sent a lighting bolt in Witseva's direction. She managed to dodge just in time, seeing how she just saved his life.
The hooded man was stopped by the flat of a blade on his hand. A sharp glare was sent towards the holder. A whispered conversation went between them. Eventually, the mage sent the magic away, not needing it anymore.
"It's about time you came along. These two were getting restless by the way we've been treating their comrades." The man said, his voice as old as his face.
Hadvar and Witseva were nearing the end of the caves beneath the keep. They came to a relatively large room filled with webs. Suddenly, a bunch of spiders fell from the roof. Witseva froze, since she was deathly afraid of any kind of spider her whole life.
With the Argonian frozen in place, that left Hadvar to clean up the mess. He recognised the spiders as Skyrim's Frostbite spiders. He mentally told himself to stay away from their fangs, as their poison is as cold as the land itself.
Several mini Frostbites came towards his feet. Hadvar kicked them away, as they were a nuisance. Several steps were taken, squishing any more mini Frostbites, and a fight between the many spiders and the lone Imperial took place. Fangs were blocked by the shield of iron and wood and the steel of the sword were repelled by the natural armour of the spiders.
Sometime during the fight, Witseva got out of her trance. Seeing Hadvar in immediate danger, Witseva drew her iron sword and dagger and rushed in without regard for her life. An upward slash in a vulnerable spot took a spider's leg off and a downward stab to the brain took the life from it's body.
Ten minutes passed when all of the spiders were dead and the mini ones scattered away into any crevice that they could fit into.
"Heh. What's next, giant snakes?" Hadvar joked, much to Witseva's misery. She hated snakes as much as spiders.
They ran through the open tunnel, sliding a bit as it was downhill. They went over a natural bridge and spotted a sleeping bear. Hadvar spotted it first and went into a crouch immediately. Witseva followed his lead, although she didn't know why.
"Hold up. There's a bear just ahead. See her?" Hadvar informed, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Yeah." Witseva whispered back, finally seeing the problem.
"I'd rather not tangle with 'er right now. So let's try to sneak past her, and watch where you step."
"Mmhm."
"Or, if you're feeling lucky, you can take this bow. Might take her by surprise." Hadvar said, handing Witseva a longbow and extra arrows.
"Go ahead, I'll follow your lead and watch your back."
Without a second's thought, Witseva nocked an arrow into the drawstring and pulled it back. She didn't know an animal's anatomy very well, so she just aimed for the head. She let the arrow fly, but the arrow hit the bear's shoulder instead, waking it up and making it charge at them. Witseva, in a self-cursing phase, nocked another arrow and let that one fly. Only down to pure luck, it hit the bear's head and through the skull, killing it.
"Not one for sneaking, hmm?" Hadvar said, getting up from the crouch and running normally.
Witseva snorted, and chased after him. They rounded a corner, seeing a bloody mess and bones in the next room but continued. Another corner, and they came to the entrance.
"Look's like the way out. I wasn't sure that we were going to make it." Hadvar said, running through the mouth with Witseva close behind.
Now was the best time for Witseva to thank the Hist for what happened.