Without even a second to think, Treads-Marshes dove straight at Svigny Frost-Heart, both of them careening to the ground. The Nord woman underneath him, Marsh wrapped his arms securely around her, almost as if he were a protective parent trying to shield their child. The very fabrics of time itself seemed to unravel that very moment, the entire surrounding world slowing to an absolute halt as the volley of arrows flew straight over them, descending like rain. Marsh closed his eyes as the terrifying sound of a hundred speeding, whizzing arrows filled his ears, as if that would somehow magically banish them from existence. Dread swelled inside of Marsh that moment, those crucial seconds feeling as long as an entire era. Any second, he expected to be struck by this murderous downpour of arrows, to feel that piercing sting shoot through his body.
This is it, isn't it? he thought with a pounding heart, sweat pouring down his scales. All this careful planning, and this is what it all leads to? Marsh remained still as stone, still lying atop Svigny. He knew that the slightest movement, even a mere inch, would spell certain death.
Pained screams rang through the air only a second later as the shower of arrows landed. Marsh and Svigny themselves were miraculously unscathed, but the present circumstances allowed Marsh to feel no relief. Not daring for even a second to look up, the Argonian could only listen helplessly as the agonized, dying wails of countless of his fellow slaves who had not been so fortunate resounded in his ears. Without even looking, Marsh knew that the ground was already lining with corpses.
"You…you alright?" Marsh asked Svigny, his arms still securely around her. The Nord gave a meek nod of her head.
Just then, the corpse of a Khajiit slave landed right on top of them. Marsh gasped, the sudden impact blasting the air right from his lungs. His first instinct had been to push off the corpse and get back up, but he quickly decided against it. More arrows surely were to follow, Marsh knew, and he figured that this was probably the safest position they could be in.
"Marsh...I, I can't move," said Svigny, her voice greatly strained as she struggled beneath the weight of both Marsh and the dead Khajiit.
"Stay still, Svigny," said Marsh, trying to ignore the literal dead weight atop him. "That won't be the last wave of arrows."
Sure enough, amidst the screams of the slaves, Marsh could faintly make out the creaking of bowstrings from the top of the hill. He took a deep, terrified breath as he braced himself for the next wave of arrows, his body trembling.
At least with each slave that dies, that's more gold flying out of Lord Drethen's pocket, Marsh mused, though that thought brought little comfort to him.
The archers unleashed a second torrent of arrows, Marsh closing his eyes again. Though that dead Khajiit lying atop of him grew more cumbersome with each second, Marsh was instantly thankful for it as the corpse stopped an arrow that undoubtedly would have struck him otherwise. More cries filled the air as the arrows landed within the mass of crowded slaves, with several more corpses piling to the ground, including two more that landed right on top of Marsh and Svigny. The Nord cried out upon the impact, utterly unable to move as she was crushed beneath the combined weight of Marsh and three corpses. Marsh himself was able to move little else besides his head. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed and ached inside of him, the immense burden of those three corpses pressing down upon him like the waves of a storming ocean. Breathing was now a struggle, and Marsh imagined it was even more so for Svigny, trapped at the bottom.
Another volley of arrows descended upon the slaves only seconds later. The corpses atop them again shielded Marsh and Svigny from the barrage, but if any more fell upon them, they would almost certainly be crushed to death.
The arrows landed, the deafening screams of the slaves nigh unbearable at this point. Marsh could hardly believe this disastrous turn of events. Only moments ago, the slaves had taken the plantation guards by complete surprise, maintaining a significant advantage all the while after the battle had begun. Entire squads of guards had fallen to their wrathful assault, and Marsh actually began to harbor hopes for victory.
But now…massacre. Absolute, utter massacre. Marsh did not even want to imagine how many slaves had perished already to this onslaught. Fifty? One hundred? Two? Within the span of less than even a minute, this whole revolt had completely turned against them, that hill now essentially a slaughterhouse as the guards brutally decimated the slaves with their arrows.
K'Jhari, Ashara, you better still be in that watchtower.
Sheer panic flooded all throughout Marsh, his heart and thoughts racing as only more slaves met their deaths. The Argonian had no idea how he could even hope to turn this back around. The slaves had waltzed right into Alarys Drethen's trap, and that single blunder may very well have just cost their freedom. All he did know was that he and Svigny had to get off the ground, before the corpses atop them crushed the very life from their bones.
"Svigny, we need to get these bodies off of us," Marsh stated urgently. "On three, I want you to push against me with all your strength. Can you do that?" Svigny gave a weak nod, barely able to breathe now.
"Okay," said Marsh, letting out a deep breath. "One. Two. Three!" Svigny threw her arms up as hard as she could, the force slamming right into Marsh's chest. The Argonian propelled upwards, and he was able to lift himself high enough so the corpses rolled right off. Ignoring the aching and throbbing of his entire body, Marsh shot to his feet, quickly reaching out his hand to help up Svigny.
"By the Hist…" Marsh muttered upon now seeing the full extent of this carnage. Numerous piles of bodies now laid strewn about the foot of the hill, hundreds of arrows buried into dirt and flesh alike. Marsh felt his heart sink to his stomach as his eyes swept across the merciless slaughter, the number of casualties far greater than he initially anticipated.
The slaves that yet remained pushed their way through the plantation gates at last, climbing over the miniature mountains of corpses. Despite this unexpected, catastrophic setback, the slaves of the Drethen plantation did not lose heart. With rage and determination still burning vehemently inside them, perhaps there yet remained hope for victory this night.
Marsh drew his blade, turning to the line of guards standing atop the hill. Before anything else, Marsh knew these archers would have to be dealt with, before they could pick off the remaining slaves.
"Forward!" he cried to the slaves, pointing his sword ahead. With a newfound strength, vigor, and determination, the Argonian charged up the hill, with Svigny right at his side. The rest of the slaves followed, their enraged cries of battle roaring like thunder, their steps nearly as forceful as a legion of racing horses. The line of archers swiftly drew their swords, preparing to face the oncoming charge.
Marsh reached the top of the hill, immediately killing the guard closest to him with a horizontal slice across the chest. He briefly glanced over and watched Svigny disembowel another guard with her axe. The sound of clanging, ringing steel pervaded the air once more as the two sides met face-to-face once again, the slaves fighting ever valiantly with a courage that slowly rekindled Marsh's hope for victory this night. Despite the devastating loss the slaves had just endured, Marsh knew this was not the end for them. Hope still very much remained, and as long as the slaves remained strong and persevered to the very end, Marsh knew that freedom was still within sight.
The slaves remarkably were able to push right through the lines of defending guards, both sides soon scattering in every which direction as absolute chaos and mayhem erupted everywhere. Marsh's gaze whipped frantically around in all directions at the surrounding death and bloodshed, everything happening so fast that it all seemed to be just one massive blur to him. The Argonian spotted a guard coming straight at him from the corner of his eye, dodging the incoming attack just in the nick of time.
Marsh whirled back around towards that guard, spinning his sword in his hand briefly before coming in for a speedy counterattack. The Argonian delivered a diagonal strike with his blade, followed immediately by a fluid uppercut. The guard deflected both attacks, swiftly responding with a thrusting lunge. Anticipating this, Marsh skirted out of the way and performed a slick counter riposte, striking his opponent off balance. Not about to waste his advantage, Marsh raised his blade as he then spun gracefully through the air. A scream met his ears only a second later as his sword pierced straight through the guard's chest. Marsh pulled out his blade from the guard, finishing him off without hesitation with a slice across the throat.
Another guard was upon him soon after, the two exchanging several blows, their swords dancing and whirring through the air. Marsh spun and twirled his sword in his hand with the intent of disorienting his opponent. He then unleashed a fierce flurry of blows, which were followed by a spinning kick that caught the guard right in his abdomen. The guard staggered backwards, and Marsh seized his chance as he then closed in. The Argonian leaped high in the air, soaring like the wind as he descended upon his hapless opponent. Marsh brought back his arm, preparing for the killing blow. Just as his feet were about to meet the ground, Marsh thrust forth his sword, stabbing right through the guard's left shoulder. The guard dropped to his knees, but was not made to suffer long as Marsh then ended his life with another thrust through the heart.
All around him the battle raged on, both the slaves and guards suffering heavy losses. Each guard that fell to Marsh's blade further fueled the flame burning within his heart, strengthening his determination to win his freedom. Two decades he had spent as a slave to this plantation, and not once during that entire time did he ever expect to wield a sword again, nor did he expect to ever be fighting back against his oppressors. Not since the years before his enslavement did Marsh feel such a level of sheer exhilaration as he did right now, flowing wildly through him like a racing stream. Twenty years Marsh had spent bound to this place, and the thought of it all finally ending this very night was what inspired him, what drove him to fight. Marsh wasn't certain if he would ever truly forgive himself for what he did to his little sister, but he knew that what he did this night would go a long way to rectifying what he had done, and would perhaps even allow him to feel some semblance of peace at long last.
Marsh gripped his sword firmly, charging ahead into the heat of battle. Several more of the plantation guards fell to the Argonian's blade, his scales swathed in the blood of his enemies. Marsh felt not an ounce of remorse for the lives he took. Over his long stint at this plantation, Marsh had seen far too many times what cruelty these guards were capable of, and it brought him no shortage of pleasure to be spilling their blood now.
Doing away with two more guards, Marsh spun around, his eyes scouring the battle frantically. It was that moment he realized he had been separated from Svigny at some point, and try as he might, he was unable to spot her anywhere. Marsh knew the Nord was a more than capable fighter, but he worried for her all the same that moment, hoping with all his heart that she was still among the living.
Just seconds later, Marsh suddenly spotted none other than Gorgoth gro-Brogak amidst the madness. The Orc was currently fending off four guards simultaneously, wielding his massive warhammer firmly in both hands. Marsh watched as Gorgoth's hammer slammed right into the chest of one of the guards, promptly tumbling to the ground, and not rising again. The Argonian sprinted over as fast as his feet would carry him, blade spinning and twirling in his fingers.
Marsh immediately killed one of the guards surrounding Gorgoth with a surprise attack from the rear. The other two turned around to face him, and Gorgoth then bellowed in pure rage. With a mighty, ferocious swing of his hammer, Gorgoth savagely crushed a guard's head, with blood and bits of brain matter splattering to the ground. The last remaining guard stood no chance, and Marsh and Gorgoth promptly finished him off together.
"Many thanks, friend," the Orc said in gratitude, giving Marsh a nod of his head.
"You fight fiercely, Gorgoth," Marsh commended him. "I'm certainly glad to have you on our side."
"Many guards have fallen by my hand," Gorgoth replied, his voice teeming with strength and fury. "And I will kill as many as need be, to break free of this place."
"I was worried that you had perished back there to the archers on the hill," Marsh remarked.
"A cowardly move, to pick off your foes from a distance, instead of facing them directly in battle," said Gorgoth. "These slaving scumbags will get what's coming to them. Every last one of them." It was then that Marsh suddenly noticed the long gash running down the Orc's right arm.
"Looks like you've sustained an injury or two," said Marsh, pointing to the wound in question. Gorgoth looked over at his arm, inspecting it for himself.
"Huh, never even noticed until now," the Orc remarked. Marsh walked over, examining Gorgoth's wound more closely.
"It looks to be merely a flesh wound, not too serious," said Marsh. "But it definitely still needs to be tended to. I grabbed a few healing supplies from the armory that should take care of that."
"Looks like that will have to wait, friend," said Gorgoth, Marsh looking up. Six guards had closed in on the two of them, circling around them and trapping them within. Giving each other a quick nod, Marsh and Gorgoth then stood back-to-back, weapons held high as they braced for the battle to come.
Two guards charged forward, one each at Marsh and Gorgoth. Marsh's sword met his opponent's, their blades locking together, both of them pushing against each other with all their strength. Marsh suddenly whipped out his leg, catching the guard right in his shin and causing him to stagger. One sure thrust of Marsh's blade brought that guard's life to an end. Behind him, Gorgoth slammed the long handle of his hammer right into two of the guards' faces, both plummeting to the ground. Letting forth another battle cry, Gorgoth raised his monstrous warhammer, a sickening crunch filling Marsh's ears as the Orc caved in both their heads. Another guard then charged at him, and Gorgoth thrust forward his hammer, impaling his opponent with the spike at the very top.
The remaining guards stood not a chance against Marsh and Gorgoth's combined might, and they soon joined their comrades in bloody death.
"We make quite the formidable team, I must say," Gorgoth remarked. "You carry yourself with great skill, friend."
"We need to get someplace away from the fighting, and get that wound treated before it becomes infected," Marsh stated urgently. Gorgoth gave no protest, nodding his head in agreement.
The Argonian and Orc hurried forward, cutting through several more guards that stood in their path. Briefly glancing back, Marsh watched as the slaves continued their ferocious assault against the guards, both sides currently appearing to be evenly matched. The Argonian knew better than to get his hopes too high, however. Lord Drethen's trap back at the hill had cost the lives of many slaves, and Marsh had no doubt he was more than capable of pulling off another such crafty maneuver.
Several minutes later, Marsh and Gorgoth at last cleared a path through the guards, hurrying away from the battle raging just behind them. Marsh felt no small guilt at leaving the fight, but Gorgoth's arm needed to be tended to, and they needed to be someplace safe.
"Ugh, it's starting to hurt now…" Gorgoth muttered, giving several grunts of pain then.
"Just hang on, my friend," Marsh urged, both of them sprinting with all due haste. The sounds of battle became more and more distant with each second as they dashed across the property. No guards had given chase, thankfully, so Marsh hoped they would not be accosted as he treated the Orc's arm.
Marsh glanced ahead to the right, glaring contemptuously at Drethen Manor as the two drew nearer to the enormous mansion, surrounded from all sides by its spiked fences and gates. The Argonian would have loved nothing more than to set that whole place ablaze, just like the plantation fields right now.
"Here, this way," said Marsh, suddenly veering to the left. The two were now headed down a cobblestone pathway that stretched ahead for some distance.
"Where are we?" Gorgoth asked.
"This path leads into the gardens," Marsh answered, leading the way still. "During my first year as a slave, I worked in these gardens for several months, helping plant and tend to the flowers. To be honest…I actually sort of enjoyed it. Keep heading down this path, and you'll eventually come to the cemetery."
The two continued on, passing by countless colorful flowerbeds as they hurried down the pathway. After roughly another minute, the two at last came to a stop, with Gorgoth sitting himself down in the thick grass against a tree.
"Alright, we should be safe here," said Marsh, kneeling next to the Orc. The Argonian wanted to be done with this as quickly as possible, and rejoin his fellow slaves in battle.
"The pain's getting worse," Gorgoth winced, clutching the wounded arm.
"That doesn't look like anything some bandages can't fix," said Marsh, reaching into his pocket for the roll of bandages he had taken from the armory, as well as a small healing salve. "I just need a minute to-"
A sudden rustling from behind caught Marsh's attention.
"You hear that?" a startled Marsh asked, slowly rising to his feet again.
"Hear what?" Gorgoth replied, looking curiously at Marsh. The Argonian narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping through the darkness of the vast gardens. Marsh's heart quickened inside him, and he soon found himself growing more uneasy by the second.
After a minute of nothing but eerie silence, Marsh chalked it up to his imagination and took a deep, apprehensive breath.
"Can we get my arm taken care of?" Gorgoth asked, noticeably impatient.
"Sorry about that," said Marsh, heading back to the Orc. "Could've swore I heard something." Having wasted enough time already, Marsh knelt back down beside Gorgoth, reaching again inside his pocket.
The sound came again, this time louder, and closer than before. Marsh shot to his feet and drew his sword, taking a single, careful step forward.
"It's probably just the wind," said Gorgoth. Marsh shook his head in disagreement.
"I know I'm hearing something," said Marsh, his voice carrying a tinge of worry. "It sounds like it's coming from over here." Taking another step forward, the Argonian focused his gaze upon the thick patch of bushes standing amidst the flowers. He took another hesitant step forward, and the bushes swished and crunched again before quickly falling silent once more. Marsh's eyes scoured all around the garden for the source of the unsettling noises, peering into the blackened depths of the lingering shadows, but seeing nothing. Marsh could feel his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest by the second, drops of sweat pouring down his face. His hands shook so violently it was a wonder he was even able to keep his grip of his sword.
Marsh carefully approached the bushes from which he had heard the sound, looking directly beneath him.
"Come on, this is getting ridiculous," Gorgoth called out. "There's nothing out here."
The set of footprints within the dirt directly in front of Marsh was a clear indication the Orc's statement could not have been more wrong. A pit of utter dread formed in Marsh's stomach.
"Gorgoth…stand up, and grab your hammer," Marsh shuddered, his voice almost a whisper. "We're not alone."
Gorgoth complied, quickly making his way over to Marsh, hammer clutched firmly in both hands.
The two remained silent for several minutes, not uttering a single sound as they cautiously investigated the area. Every second spent here brought Marsh nothing but increased dread and anxiety, and he was struggling greatly to maintain his composure as he slowly ventured further into the shadowed gardens, the faint slivers of moonlight giving them an eerie, dim glow.
Marsh nearly jumped out of his scales upon another sound, but soon realized it was merely the wind brushing against the leaves of the surrounding trees.
By the Hist, I'm way too damn jumpy, he mused, wiping some sweat from his brow. Marsh looked over at Gorgoth who was only a short distance away, the Orc prowling along the pathway, hammer raised.
"I don't see anyone from here," Gorgoth stated. "If somebody was here, perhaps they've left already."
After yet another minute of tense silence, Marsh was almost inclined to agree. The two were facing each other again, bewilderment written across both their faces.
"I don't know what's going on, but we need to get out of here," said Marsh with utmost urgency. "This place is making me a nervous wreck."
"Right with you, friend," Gorgoth agreed, heading over towards Marsh. "We should-"
Gorgoth stopped, suddenly letting out a gasp, his eyes wide in terror.
"Behind you!" the Orc cried at the top of his lungs.
Marsh whirled around like a tornado, his left hand instinctively lashing out as a spike of panic shot through him. He firmly gripped the wrist of the sudden assailant just in the nick of time, then giving an aggressive shove that sent them staggering back. Marsh quickly steeled himself, tightly clenching the hilt of his blade.
The mysterious figure before him was garbed in a shadowy black cloak, a long hood completely concealing their face. Marsh's assailant swiftly regained their balance, standing only a small distance away from him, blending almost seamlessly into the darkness of the night itself. Marsh remained still as he attempted to gradually calm himself, knowing this was not the time for any hasty actions. Gorgoth soon joined Marsh at his side.
Marsh glared at the hooded figure standing before them, daring not to take even a single step forward. Just from the sound of their breathing, Marsh could tell that their attacker was a woman, and it did not take him long after that to deduce her identity.
"Hello, Valarya," he quipped, a joyless grin creeping across his face. The cloaked figure then lowered their hood, and the revealed face underneath was indeed none other than Lady Drethen herself.
"My, my, what a turn of events," Gorgoth remarked, glaring into the Dunmer woman's scarlet eyes. The Orc tightened his grip of his hammer. "The wife of our owner herself, before us on a silver platter. Killing you will certainly make for a glorious tale!"
Valarya shifted her eyes to the hulking Orc.
"Take but one step, Orc, and you will not live to tell it," she hissed, her eyes narrowing at him. Gorgoth merely laughed at her threat, and Marsh only grew more worried and tense about this whole thing.
"Was that meant to frighten me?" the Orc retorted. "There's two of us, and only one of you. What chance could you possibly have?"
Valarya gave him a smug grin. "You think me some helpless damsel?" Gorgoth snarled at her, baring his teeth.
"Ask that to my hammer, you slaving bitch!" Gorgoth roared. He then charged straight at Valarya, raising his warhammer high above him as his ferocious battle cry echoed through the air.
Marsh gasped. "Gorgoth, no! Wait!"
Valarya Drethen extended her right hand forward as Gorgoth closed in on her. When Marsh saw the green magic swirling in the Dunmer's palm, he knew that the Orc's fate had just been sealed.
Valarya's spell shot forth through the air, pulsating violently and wildly as it hurled through the shadows. Only a second later, Gorgoth gro-Brogak became completely frozen in place as what could only have been a Paralysis spell enveloped his entire body. Marsh gasped in utter horror at the scene unfurling before his eyes. The Argonian wanted to rush in and intervene, but he possessed enough sense not to repeat Gorgoth's mistake. Instead, he could only watch as Valarya approached the now immobile Orc, awaiting with dread whatever was to come next.
Gorgoth was audibly struggling against the magic that ensnared him, trying desperately with all his strength to move even the slightest bit. His efforts proved to be for naught, and as Valarya now stood only inches in front of him, he broke down into a full-blown panic. Valarya barely reached to the towering Orc's chest, but with how powerless Gorgoth was against her now, he might as well have been just a puny ant.
Valarya slowly raised her hand, brushing the Orc's face in a gentle, almost affectionate manner. Marsh's whole body trembled in fear as he could only continue to look on, still internally debating whether to act. Common sense compelled him to remain still, regardless of how much it pained him.
Valarya cupped Gorgoth's cheek in her hand, her face expressionless. She then suddenly curled her hand into a claw, her fingernails digging right into the Orc's skin. Gorgoth winced, still paralyzed by the spell. Valarya briefly glanced at Marsh, and that was when he spotted the tiny embers beginning to form upon the Dunmer's fingertips.
Valarya looked at Gorgoth again, a sinister smile crossing her face.
"Fools always get what they deserve."
The Orc's entire head burst into flame, his excruciating, deafening cries of agony nearly causing Marsh to throw up every last thing in his stomach. The Argonian dropped his sword as he helplessly witnessed the sheer horror before him, every scream from Gorgoth piercing him like a knife to his heart.
Valarya pressed her flaming hand harder against Gorgoth's head, the flames of her spell dancing and flailing wildly. Marsh recoiled in terror as he could now see bits of Gorgoth's very skull, his head practically resembling a giant torch as the engulfing flames consumed every last trace of flesh and membrane.
Gorgoth gro-Brogak's screams lasted only a second longer, and Marsh knew then the Orc was no more. Valarya then lowered her hand, and Gorgoth's corpse tumbled gracelessly to the ground, what little remained of his head now a smoldering, charred mess. Tears welled in Marsh's eyes, and he then turned aside and retched right on the ground for several seconds.
Marsh glared at Valarya as she stood over Gorgoth's smoking body, with pure, seething hatred burning in his eyes. The Dunmer returned his stare, and with that evil smile she gave him, Marsh knew she was daring him to try something, anything.
"You'll pay for this, Valarya," said Marsh, his voice audibly shaking. He stared straight into the Dunmer woman's eyes, snarling. "You will pay…not only for what you just did to Gorgoth, but also for what you did to Arlena."
Valarya raised an eyebrow.
"Who?" she asked. That only served to further infuriate Marsh.
"The young woman who tried to escape the plantation!" Marsh cried, his voice wrought with pain and fury. "The woman whose death you ordered!"
"Oh?" Valarya said coyly, with a condescending sneer. "Was that the little whore's name?"
"Xhuth!" Marsh cursed, nearly exploding in rage. The Argonian snatched his sword from the ground, giving it a twirl in his hand. He then brought back his arm, mustering every ounce of his strength as he prepared to hurl his blade right into that wretched woman's heart.
Valarya Drethen gave Marsh another sickening smile, pointing a finger in his direction.
"Behind you."
An armored fist struck Marsh right in the back of his head, the Argonian plummeting to the ground. Blinding pain shot through his entire body as he hit the stone pathway, his vision swimming, and his head feeling as if he had been struck by a hammer.
"Run, my lady!" Malisarr's voice called from right above him. "I'll deal with this one…"
Marsh, still greatly disoriented from the sheer force of Malisarr's blow, managed to look up just in time to watch Valarya speed off past him down the pathway, and further into the garden. Searing pain pulsed like fire inside Marsh's head, throbbing as if he were being repeatedly bashed with a stone. The Argonian slowly turned over onto his back, looking up at Malisarr who stood directly in front of him.
"Oh how I've dreamed of this moment," the guard captain sneered, stepping closer towards Marsh. "Ever since that day you stood up to me in the ebony mine, you've been nothing but a stabbing thorn in my side. I knew this rebellion was your doing, right from the start."
With great, strenuous effort, Marsh rose back to his feet, pain still coursing through his body. Ignoring his screaming muscles, the Argonian reached for his sword, grasping it tightly as he lifted it from the ground.
"I must truly commend your courage, Treads-Marshes," said Malisarr. Never did the Dunmer's face look so hideous and grotesque to Marsh than it did right now. "Never before have I seen such spirit within a slave, such tenacity."
Marsh said not a word, merely glaring at Malisarr, his fingers tightly clutching his blade.
"But as for this so-called revolt…" continued Malisarr, sneering at Marsh. "I'm afraid to tell you it shall prove to be quite short-lived."
Marsh grinned, unmoved by the guard captain's words.
"You won't stop us, Malisarr," Marsh asserted, snarling at the Dunmer. "Our cause is just. We fight to reclaim our freedom. We fight to overthrow the tyranny that has ruled over us for all these years. We fight to break our chains, and to be the masters of our own lives once again."
Marsh's declaration only seemed to amuse Malisarr all the more.
"Since that day in the mines, I have wanted an excuse to end your life, lizard," the captain growled. "And now, you have given me just that. I don't think I can possibly put into words how much pleasure killing you will bring me." Malisarr reached behind his back, drawing a monstrous ebony broadsword. Marsh's eyes widened at the sight of the fearsome weapon.
"I will not be the one that dies this night, Malisarr," Marsh proclaimed, his defiance ever undying. He raised his own blade. "Tonight, you will at long last answer for the remorseless cruelty you have inflicted upon us all these years. Tonight, I intend to make you feel every last ounce of the pain we have been forced to suffer beneath your iron-fisted tyranny."
Marsh spun his sword in his hand. "And when I'm standing over you, looking down upon your corpse…I will know then that justice has been served."
Malisarr stepped forward, holding his broadsword out in front of him, giving it a wide spin. He grinned, his repugnant, charred face glowing menacingly beneath the moonlight.
"Then come for me, Treads-Marshes. And we shall see which of us ends up a corpse."
Giving his sword another spin, Marsh broke into a charge, Malisarr doing the same. Blade raised high, his strength and vigor returned, Marsh braced himself for the intense battle that was now upon him, speeding like the wind itself towards Malisarr.
The two combatants met, a deafening clash of steel ringing through the air as their blades collided.