((Hello everyone! Here's chapter three for you!

By the way, It's been brought to my attention that High Elves are from Summerset Isles and that Tamriel is the continent name. Which really makes more sense now that I think about it... So anyways, this is just an apology for that problem earlier.))


Inside the keep

"I thought you might not be coming." Ralof says with relief as he hears her enter the Keep behind him. He turns slowly, and his face is a chalk-white, smeared with dirt and blood. "Th- that was a dragon!"

…why does everyone seem content with stating the obvious? What does he expect her to say? No, Ralof, it was a giant flying rat with scales?

Actually that's not a bad way to describe her feelings towards that horrible creature…

She wants to move to check on the bloodied rebel on the floor in the corner, but that's pointless. Not only is she so woozy that she has to collapse then and there, but it's also obvious from the other side of the room that the soldier is dead.

"Nixa?" He kneels in front of her, untying her bonds. It seems he's only just realized that she's wounded. "Here, I can help." He tears a piece of cloth from his ragged shirt and begins to tie it tightly around the cut to try and stop the bleeding.

It hurts.

Like hell.

And it doesn't appear to work particularly well.

But she does not cry out or complain in any manner, although that grinding sound is almost definitely her teeth.

Once he realizes that it was his axe that caused the wound, he seems nothing but apologetic and sympathetic. "Just rest here a moment. We need to stay anyways to see if anyone else is coming. Are you badly hurt? Just wait here, I'll get you some armor."

Without even waiting for a reply, he leaves to do just that.

Funny. Nixa doesn't think she's said more than one word since she woke up, and that was only to state a name which isn't even her true one! Huh.

She watches Ralof stress with a shadow of an amused smile on her lips.

'Getting armor' consisted of stripping the dead soldier of his own bloodied armor. She watches distastefully, but she's in ripped and torn civilian clothes that were useless as defense. When he hands her them, and then continues to watch her, she raises an eyebrow.

"Oh!" He suddenly realizes and turns away from her.

Dressing is difficult when your leg is bleeding profusely, it hurts to stand on it, and there's a person just meters away who is trying very, very hard not to look at you. She manages to dress in several minutes without scraping her leg against the fur armor, but it's already blood-soaked and she feels like a necromancer in it.

It's scratchy and uncomfortable and she makes a face. Yuck, it smells of death.. "Alright, you can turn around now."

He almost jumps in surprise at hearing her voice. He'd almost come to the conclusion that she was mute! But she had spoken her name before, so perhaps that would have been an odd conclusion to reach. She was just so quiet!

He turns and a smile visibly falters. That... is a lot of blood. All of it hers and the Stormtrooper's. It's on the walls she leaned against for balance. On the floor. On the clothes. In her hair... He chews on his bottom lip, and leans back against a wall opposite her, trying to steady himself so she won't see him shaking.

Together they wait.

It's a wait without words, punctuated only by the ear-splitting screams from outside coupled with roars from a dragon which shake the Keep, drawing winces from Ralof as he thinks about all the people out there. The children, the women...

"Maybe we should just go." She says quietly, disrupting his thoughts. He glances at her. She's looking at the ground, very still and very white. It doesn't need to be said that there won't be anyone coming through that door. "We're the only ones who made it."

But then that idea is contradicted completely, only seconds after it's out in the open.

Voices. Approaching. And quickly.

"Imperials!" Ralof hisses, springing up. His axe is in his hands after only a second, and he's crouching behind the door, completely ready to attack before he realizes that she's vulnerable and unarmed.

He glances back over at her, alarmed. She's out in the open, in the direct view of every approaching Imperial, and she's sitting in a puddle of her own blood. Damn!

But it's too late to worry about her, the door is opening!

He leaps on the first man through the door, driving an axe up and into his face before the Imperial even realizes what's going on. But the helmet's good at it's job and the blade only hits the side. He compensates by shoving the already off-balanced man so that he falls, and can easily be slain by a quick chop.

There's no time to worry about the blood spurting onto him from below. Nixa! Where is she?

He wheels round, fully expecting her to have already been killed. But she's in the exact same spot as before, in the same position with her legs pulled up to her, the injury facing the ceiling.

In front of her, burnt almost beyond recognition, is a smoking Imperial.

...okay... that- it- he had not been expecting that...

"Did you-? Uh..." He can't find any words so he motions, amazed, to the body.

A skeptical look is thrown his way. Unless he spontaneously combusted, it had to be Nixa.

"Oh. Well... look, we probably ought to be going now. I don't... I don't think anyone else will be coming. We need to get out of here." He offers her a hand to help her up, but to his surprise, Nixa grasped the wall and managed to pull herself upright without too much trouble.

Knowing now that she's capable of burning someone to a crisp, he's a little hesitant to turn his back on her, but he needs to lead the way as she's wounded.

Nixa watches him speed ahead and into the hallway. She puts a little weight on her cut leg, and the blood drains from her face. It's an effort, and every step is blinding white agony, but she manages to sort of hobble after him. She's got to learn a healing spell, or find a potion. This is almost unbearable!

Well, now that she has a few moments to herself, she can think. What does she know?

All she truly knows is that she woke up on a cart, so she must have broken the law somehow, that she's a magic user, and that she really hates dragons.

That... pretty much covers it all.

The sounds of a battle ahead of her cause her to hurry her odd little hobble-walk. "Ralof?"

There's no answer except for the sound of ringing blades.

"Ralof!" She puts true weight on her leg as she lunges forward to burst out into the room.

If the leg had hurt before, that's nothing to now, and her bandage of torn clothing is already soaked. She even lets out a small cry as the pain rockets up her nerves.

Imperial!

Or... well, he used to be an Imperial. Should she be scared that her first reaction to seeing the reddish uniform was to spray fire everywhere?

Well, to be fair, they did try to execute her an hour ago.

Trying not to look at the fried face of such a young soldier, she limps around him and scans the room for Ralof. And is rewarded by watching him slit open the belly of a second Imperial.

She's horrified at just how much blood there is inside him, how much can leak out. At least her fire leaves no blood.

Just... blackened flesh and bright red tissue where...

She didn't want to dwell on that, and turns from the scene, completely disgusted.

What should meet her eye when she turns to face the shelves, but a bright red potion. She snatches at it, examines it hopefully.

Jackpot! A healing potion!

She tears out the stopper and gulps it down.

It is the single most horrible thing she's ever tasted and she has to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop herself from spitting it all back out. Oh divines. It tasted like sludge, like thick gunk...

But it does the trick, that's for sure. Seconds after swallowing it there's a soft tickle in her leg. A warm glow shines from under the bandage, and when she tears it off, the cut is gone, leaving smooth golden flesh just as before. She stares at it wonderingly. She's got to get more of those...

"Nixa?" It was a quiet prompt for her to get moving. She sighs. Yes, probably escaping should be first and foremost on her thoughts, but for some reason her mind just couldn't focus on that. She wanted to loot the room, search for treasure, for scrolls, for - her stomach rumbles. - for food. Maybe she could take a few moments to-

"Nixa!" Ralof's whisper is urgent. She turns to face him impatiently. But he isn't even looking at her. He's staring off down the hallway with a mask of horror draped over his face.

Curious, she sneaks over beside him and follows his gaze.

...wow...