Any Stormcloak supporters out there? Don't flame me for this, you milk-drinkers.
The warrior stopped her horse on a rocky spur and looked down. A Stormcloak camp was laid out on the grass carpet. Several tents were laid out, with a table near a fire blazing in the centre. A man stood by the table polishing a sword. Several soldiers were stood warming their hands, chopping firewood or doing other menial tasks. Three horses cropped grass near the edge. The warrior dismounted and led her black mount towards a tree, tying the horse to it. She crouched and crept back to the spur. Looking down at the camp, a smile flickered around her lips. This was going to be interesting.
A few minutes later, she was beside the horses, with the animals between her and the camp. Still sneaking, she cut through the ropes tying them to a rail with a sharp ebony dagger. The fighter unsheathed a whispering blue sword and slapped each horse once on the rump with the flat of the blade, driving them towards the Stormcloak camp. The horses, panicked, raced through the camp kicking up the embers as they raced through. They bucked and tore down tents as the men ran trying to calm them. A general raced from his tent to find the source of the commotion and received a hoof to the stomach, throwing him into the canvas and winding him.
The warrior had been hiding behind a tree, and lit some flames in one hand, hefting the blue sword in the other. She nimbly stepped out, and took a deep breath. She strode towards the camp, and lifted her sword.
" STRUN… BAH QO." She Shouted at the sky. Clouds boiled over the previously blue sky, and lightning arced down at the terror-stricken soldiers. She grinned, then screamed as she felt a fiery pain in her back. She fell to her hands and knees gasping as the sword slid out with a metallic slither.
"How dare you come into our camp and attack us like this? Who do you think you are? Answer me, milk drinker!" She found herself gazing at the general's sword which was pointed into her face. Summoning the words of the dragon tongue, she Shouted at him with all of her strength.
"YOL…TOOR SHUL!" Her inferno hit him full on, and he fell away, sword bouncing on the grass. She dragged herself over to the healer's tent, and, ignoring the people there, downed several health potions. She held back screams of agony as her muscles knitted back together, flesh reconstructing itself and veins seamlessly re-joining. A nasty scar to join the others, she reflected. Now to deal with that blasted general. She strode out of the tent, anger billowing. She found him emerging from his tent, with new pink skin covering up the scars. He must have kept some potions there. She grabbed her sword and readied it. He swung his blade down at her feet and she jumped over it, swinging at his midriff. He leapt back to avoid the singing metal, then took two steps forwards and lunged. She deflected his blow and replied with a swipe of her own. He blocked and she counter blocked as they danced the dance of death and steel, darting blows and lunges, replied by feints and parries. She swept her sword low but then whipped it high but he parried and lunged. She took a quick sidestep to the right and swung at his shoulder but he flicked his blade up to meet it and they locked blades, noses touching. She jerked back and flicked her wrist around, disarming him neatly.
"Very well. Finish it." He said fearlessly. She gave him a long look, turned and walked away. He sighed. " At least tell me who you are!" he shouted after her.
She glanced over her shoulder and whispered.
"Dovahkiin."