Darius knew he was in the right place when he turned a corner and nearly bumped into a female clad in studded leather armour. She had a shaved head and black marking across her cheeks.
"Hey, you're not supposed to be here!" She growled, reaching for the large weapon handle that was tied to her back. Darius didn't give her the chance, and immediately slammed his shield edge into her stomach, causing her to double over. He brought his mace forward in a huge overhand swing that slammed into her spine and made her drop to the ground. Darius wasn't eager for other slavers to find him, and instead continued to keep the initiative by sprinting down the thin trail.
The trail led him through the small pass before turning into a series of switchbacks that climbed one of the nearby hills. He looked up to see his opponents racing down it to meet him. Three, four, five, damn it there was lots...
A one-handed sword clanged against the half-sphere middle of Darius' shield. Since that was the only weapon the Breton had, Darius swung his shield at him and knocked him against the hillside. A swift kick sent him rolling down the hill. Only his lucky positioning of his mace stopped a war axe from slicing him in half. He luckily caught the tip on the different edges and folds of his mace, holding it in place. A warhammer suddenly slammed into the back of Darius and sent him tumbling forward. His armour saved him from the damage, but it still stole his breath and sent him harshly into the ground.
"Looks like we've got a hero, come to save the people!" An Orismer, the one with the warhammer, cackled. The Breton with the war axe joined in, stepping backwards to let the Orc go past him. He charged forward with his hammer held behind him, ready to end the boy's life quickly. Darius flipped to his feet and sidestepped the Orc. He grabbed his mace with both hands and hooked the head of the warhammer. The Orc stopped abruptly when his warhammer no longer followed him when he ran. With a grunt, Darius sent the Orc down the hill. His warhammer stayed, though, and he threw it into the chest of the stunned Breton and sent him down the hill, too.
Taking out those three out allowed a small lapse in combat, so Darius took the opportunity to charge up several switchbacks. He overestimated his manoeuvrability on such tight corners, and his feet slipped out from underneath him on one turn. He landed on his stomach, making a sound like dropped cutlery. A Nord dual wielder took the opportunity to send a downward stab at him, which glanced off of Darius' shield. He pressed the blade between the hillside and his shield, holding it in place.
The great thing about dual wielders, though, is that they have another sword. This convenient backup was currently swinging down at Darius. He brought up his mace and caught it on the shaft. The Nord growled within his dirty blonde locks, pressing down with his sword. He was determined to outmatch the Imperial. He must have given up quite easily, because he resorted to firmly booting Darius in the shoulder. He cried out in pain and loosened his hold on each weapon, allowing for the Nord to score a nice slash across his collar, just above where his armour began.
"Bastard!" Darius cursed, swinging his mace above his head. To the upright inhabitants of Skyrim, that looked like a swooping swing just above the ground. It crushed the Nord's ankle and sent him crumbling. Darius's adrenaline sent him back on his feet and eager to send the Nord down the cliff and, soon, to Oblivion.
When Darius looked back to the path, there was one last Nord running at him. Out of sheer frustration, adrenaline, and fury: Darius roared. The roar was more of a bellow, really. One of those tones that seem to come from the very soul and affect others in the same way. This particular Nord recoiled and stepped back. After that, he did nothing. He was easy to slay with a mace to the skull, for he wore no helmet.
There was silence. Darius calmed, happy to know that there were no more combatants. Now he just had to find the slaves after he disposed of the latest dead bandit, which was a quick job. Darius scaled the switchbacks to find that the hill was in fact a plateau. There was a circular area at least thirty feet in diameter, upon which sat many slaves. They were all huddled, tied, and forced to sit together. Darius guessed they were usually held at sword point too. What wasn't expected, though, was a bandit chief looking at him grimly. He sat on a wooden chest in full Nordic armour. A mace sat by his side, and a large Nordic shield was strapped to his arm.
"So you've come to end my life, and take back my slaves." The large Nord grunted, standing up. This action showed Darius that this man was taller and stronger than him, but not by much. "First you kill my men, now you come to finish the job and steal my rightful merchandise. Now that just isn't fair!"
Darius stared at him blankly, not speaking for awhile before finally retorting: "Knights do not converse with the criminal scum of society."
"A knight, eh?" The Nord burst out laughing. "Alright, let's do it your way then 'knight'. Since you don't wear a helmet, I'll take off mine." As promised, the man tossed his helmet to the side. He shook loose messy black hair that looked liked it hadn't seen a tub in weeks. He then took up, taking his mace with him. "My name is Cormun, what is yours?"
"Darius Cyprian." His combatant answered.
"Alright Sir Cyprian." Cormun snickered. "Let's duel, knight style. No magic, potions, or bullshit. Just good old metal, eh?"
With no other words, they lifted their weapons and faced off. The slaves dared not interfere or attempt to escape, for fear of hindering their savior in any way. If he was no more, there might be a different story. For now, though, they stayed patient.
Darius noted the man's armour, which was much bigger than his, as was his shield. Thicker meant heavier and in turn the man was considerably slower than him. Darius didn't know whether or not that balanced a higher defense, but he pushed the thought out of his head.
Darius stepped forward and swung his mace wide. Cormun easily glanced it off his shield and brought down his mace in an overhead swing. Darius squatted and held his shield up, taking the strike head on. The sheer strength behind the blow shook his shield dangerously. It vibrated up and down his body, threatening to knock him off his feet. Quickly after, Cormun swung his larger shield and threw Darius off his feet.
Frustrated at being knocked down so early, Darius returned to his feet and charged Cormun again. He swung three quick strikes that were all easily blocked before Cormun's man sent him flying.
The Imperial landed on his feet, but wobbled and swayed dangerously. Finally, he found his footing and held his shield forward, charging Cormun. The Nord held up his shield and the metal peices slammed into each other. Darius [planted his feet and placed his mace behind his shield for support, but it was no use. The chief threw his arms up and threw Darius in the air.
Darius landed with a cringe-worthy thud before continuing to roll, skidding to a halt in front of the slaves. He let out a groan of pain and went slack, unable to force his body to move. His mace wasn't in his hand, but he could barely tell because his entire body ached.
Soft, warm hands graced his cheeks. The regular reaction of such contact would be to stiffen, but the touch of them immediately relaxed Darius to an incredible level. The hands pulled his head slightly upwards, and towards the female who owned them. "What are you fighting for, Darius Cyprian?" She whispered. "If you truly care... then make us your conviction, and you will surely succeed." The voice was a blessing to his ears. It wasn't a voice, it was the voice. Her soft words were pure bliss to Darius' ears. He could not fathom a human voice existing that was softer, gentler, and more exquisite as this one. It fell upon his ears like dropped petals.
He seemed to turn in slow motion. As his field of vision shifted, he saw more and more slaves look at him expectantly. He was their only hope. Who was he to fight for greed and favors among nobility when there were lives on the line? He had the freedom of many people in his grasp, and this girl caught him as he was about to let it slip away. It didn't matter how strong this Nord was, or how thick his armour was. Darius was determined to help these people no matter the cost. He pictured what would happen if he let them be shipped to Morrowind. Hung by chains for nights on end, beatings, rape, abuse, and tears... so many tears.
He finally laid eyes upon his savior's face. She was Bosmer, with pointed ears poking through glistening auburn hair. The strands shaped her face before resting on her collar. She wore rags, but was more beautiful than anything he had even seen. Caramel orange skin as smooth as its namesake covered her body. Her eyes were a warm yellow, like bottled sunshine. Between her eyebrows was a diamond-shaped mark, whose color was barely paler than her skin. From this, across her nose and cheekbones fell other, lighter marks that were messy and jagged.
"Thank you..." He whispered to her. She parted her shapely lips in a small smile, revealing pearly white teeth. Darius shot to his feet. A slave threw him his fallen mace and he caught it without looking.
"Come for another beating?" Cormun laughed, spreading his arms wide and inviting him in. Darius roared and charged, swinging his mace madly. Cormun stumbled and held up his shield. Seconds into the fight, he fell solely to his defense. He had to constantly turn and tilt his body to block the boy, who attacked like he had two maces. He dared not move to attack, because he knew that doing so would surely let him slip a strike in.
Finally, there was a lapse in the onslaught of attacks. Seeing an opening to the right, Cormun jabbed with his mace. Immediately, Darius slammed his mace into the man's forearm.
"Gah!" Cormun cried, stumbling back and struggling to maintain a grip on his mace. Darius held his mace in both hands and cried in turn as he charged on the brute.
Darius scored hits all over the Nord. He started by dashing past him and smacking his mace across Cormun's back. He then spun around to the front, using his moment to slam it into his gut. As Cormun doubled forward, Darius spun his wrist and quickly knocked his mace out of his hand. After another careful blow, he broke the binding holding the shield to his arm. He kicked Cormun onto his back and held his mace high, ready to end him.
Slaughter them all
The haunting words of the Jarl made him nauseous and stopped his movement. He had insulted the man left and right, calling him a lying snake, but Darius had been doing exactly what he asked. Was he any better than Siddgeir? Darius looked to the captured slaves, and then back to Cormun. "No time for philosophy..." He growled as he swung his mace and flattened his skull.
The slaves cheered him on immediately. He searched Cormun for a key to the slave's chains to this roaring chorus. When he arose with it, they all stood up and cheered. Darius broke out in a smile, and out of pure animation he raised his arms and cheered with them.
The Bosmer girl was his very first target. He unlocked all of her chains before raising his face and staring her deep in her golden eyes. Wordlessly, he handed the key to another person while maintain his gaze. Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Thank you..." She whispered. "You saved us."
"No, you saved me." Darius whispered in return, placing his arms along her slim back and holding her close. He longed to know the feeling of her body against his, without his bulky armour on.
They both pulled away and met eyes again, but this time they both blushed. "My name is Arwen. Arwen Farstride." She explained.
"Why do they call you Farstride?" Darius asked out of instinctive curiosity.
"That is a long... and personal story." Arwen smiled sheepishly.
"Another time then." Darius nodded. "We need to get back to Falkreath, and safety."
When all of the slaves were finally freed, Darius led them back down the path. Dominion was waiting for them at the mouth.
"Your feet must be very sore from all of the walking." Darius turned to Arwen. "Please, you can ride my horse back to town."
"I appreciate the offer, but I am used to riding bareback. I should offer the spot to someone else who can properly ride." Arwen looked down sheepishly.
It was decided that anyone that knew how to ride could get a turn riding Dominion. Arwen and Darius instead chose to walk side by side all the way back to Falkreath.