My mind could not process what had just happened. For a moment, everything seemed entirely unreal to me. It all just happened so suddenly, so randomly, so quickly. One moment, everything was fine, all of our attackers were dead, and our mission was near complete with my companions and I relatively unhurt. Then the next, as quick as a flash, everything was turned upside-down. One bandit still remained. One bandit who must have stayed hidden through the duration of the battle, taking cover in the lingering darkness, waiting for the right moment to emerge and make his move. By the time I saw him, before I even had a chance to react, the lone attacker had already taken aim with his bow. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could say to stop what was happening in front of my very eyes. The shock, the disbelief inside me froze me in place, like my entire body had been rendered numb by some terrible, evil spell. I was powerless, completely and utterly powerless, and that just made this situation all the more terrifying, and all the more painful.
"Torgron!" I shouted in horror, as the black arrow pierced the Nord's armor and planted firmly into his chest. Torgron gave a sharp cry of pain, his right hand firmly clutched around the arrowhead as he dropped to his knees. His axe fell to the ground, and I could hear him panting heavily.
I still couldn't make out the identity of this remaining bandit. His appearance was all but obscured by the shadows of nightfall. I could hear his quiet, but sickening laughter, and I could feel my blood beginning to boil like lava inside of me. I was angry; both at this lowlife who had managed to elude us, but also at myself for not seeing him sooner, for not being able to warn Torgron in time of the danger. I felt like it was my fault my companion was now wounded, and I silently began cursing myself in letting this happen.
Remarkably, Torgron forcibly yanked out the arrow and began to slowly stand back up. I could see a stream of blood running down the steel of his armor. The Nord struggled to grab his axe, and as he brought the ferocious weapon into the air, another arrow sped through the shadows and struck Torgron yet again.
"No!" I yelled as the Nord fell again with a thud to the ground. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Not to Torgron. No, not to him. He was the mightiest warrior I had ever seen. He was easily the most physically capable member of the Crimson Serpents. He couldn't die, not like this. It would take more than two measly arrows to fell Torgron Wolf-Scar. Any second now, I expected him to rip out the arrow from his chest like he did the first one. I expected him to merely shrug his shoulders, like getting shot twice was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. I expected him to grab his axe, charge this attacker at full strength, and bring about a swift end to his life. But he never did.
Torgron remained on the ground, clutching his wound, desperately trying to stop the blood rushing out. He was coughing violently, panting, like someone stricken with a rabid disease. His eyes were cold, wide with terror. And that was when I realized that Torgron's wounds were serious. The Nord wasn't getting back up, his life was in danger. It was then that I finally snapped out of my trance-like state and came back to reality. I realized I needed to do something, and fast. I drew my sword and began to approach the attacker still lurking in the darkness. My blood was running hot with rage; the only thoughts present in my mind were ending this son of a bitch's life.
I now stood mere inches away from the shadowy attacker, and I expected him to brandish a weapon of some sort and engage me in combat. Instead, he merely spit at my feet and then took off running like a coward. After what he had done to Torgron, to my brother, he was really going to just run away and expect to survive? He wasn't at least going to do the honourable thing and face me in a fair duel? This was adding insult to injury, his cowardice only served to fuel my fury. He was going to die; he was going to know the meaning of pain by the time this was over.
I reached into my satchel as the sole bandit continued to run, his footsteps beginning to fade in the distance. I pulled out one of the small vials containing the paralysis poison Moon had made. I took a single arrow and doused the tip in the deadly liquid before nocking it in place on my bow. I didn't have much time to steady my shot; my target was quickly getting away. I knew I only had one chance at this. If I missed, he would be long gone by the time I was able to get another arrow ready. This was the only shot I had, and I was going to make it count. I took in a single breath of air as I lined up my arrow, the intense pressure causing my heart to beat violently inside me. I let my arrow loose and watched with pure anxiety as I watched it whistle and slice its way through the nightly mist.
I heard a pained scream make its way through the fog ahead of me, and I knew then my arrow had found its mark.
"Anora! Get down here!" I shouted, making sure she could hear me. I saw her grab onto the ropes of the ship, and she quickly slid down the mast before rushing over to the wounded Torgron.
"Watch him, and make sure he stays alive," I commanded. "I'm going to make this piece of dirt sorry he was ever born." As Anora began tending to Torgron's injuries, I walked with a brisk pace to where the bandit I had shot was lying. Just as I expected, Moon's poison worked like a charm. He was lying stiff as a board, the only indication he was even alive were the frantic, strained breaths that came from him. I knelt over him, turning him onto his back. After a moment's hesitation, I reached my blooded hand to his helmet and forcibly removed it from his head.
I tossed the battered helmet aside, and as I looked at the bandit's green, hideous visage, I saw that he was none other than an Orc. As if I needed yet another reason to hate them.
The Orc struggled to move, much to my amusement. His whole body was rendered completely immobile. No matter how much he tried, no matter how much he uselessly struggled, his limbs would not relent against the poison flowing through his veins. This pile of trash was at my mercy, and I was going to savour this moment for every second.
"Well…wh-what are you waiting for," the Orc said with a snarl. "Kill me…and be done with it," foamy blood came out of his mouth as he coughed and hacked.
I grabbed the Orc by the collar of his leather armor, forcing him to sit up, our faces now only inches from each other.
"Oh fear not, I am going to kill you," I said as the hatred and rage festering inside me began to erupt like a volcano. "You wounded my friend, and then ran like a coward. Death is no more than you deserve."
"At least…at least give me the honor of a quick death," said the Orc, his words growing fainter by the second. "Let me…let me die with dignity."
I laughed at the Orc's pitiful begging. I was suddenly reminded of that day so many years ago when I killed Ghorzag. I remembered the satisfaction, the intense feeling of justice that swept through me as that stupid Orc was finally getting what he deserved. The overwhelming pleasure that surged through my entire being as I brought Ghorzag to his final breath, that was all coming back to me now. And I was absolutely reveling in it.
"You don't deserve a quick death, fucking scum," I scoffed. "Your kind are a plague upon this world. You're nothing but goddamn barbarians who spread needless suffering wherever you go. And now, you're going to feel that suffering. You're a savage, and you're going to die like one." I could see the Orc's face quivering in fear. He was still trying desperately to move, but his body remained inert.
I grabbed the defenceless Orc with my hand and forcibly removed his armor, followed by his gauntlets. I gradually worked my way down his whole body, stripping every piece of clothing off of him until he was wearing nothing but his loincloth. I sneered as the Orc actually began to weep, and an expression of pure humiliation crossed his face. After tossing his gear aside, I drew my dagger from my belt. The Orc's eyes grew wide with horror.
"What are you going to do with that?!" he asked in a panic. I remained silent, only tightening my grip on the hilt of my blade.
With a swift motion of my hand, I brought my dagger down and plunged it straight into the Orc's right femur bone. His shrill cries of pain echoed through my ears, accompanied by streams of blood spewing like a fountain. Without delay, I did the same to his other leg. All he could do was scream, the Orc was utterly powerless to stop me. Being paralyzed he couldn't even massage his wounds with his hands. I stood up and watched as the pool of blood slowly spread across the docks, with some even dripping into the rushing water.
"By the Gods! Just kill me!" the Orc bellowed in an agonized cry. "You're calling me a savage?! What you're doing is beyond barbaric! Please, just kill me already!"
I wiped the blood from my dagger on my sleeve before putting it away again. I could see the water beneath the docks turning a shade of dark red. It would not be long before the Orc bled to death, but I had something else in mind. I lifted the limp Orc off the ground with both hands, holding him on the edge of the docks over the water.
"Them slaughterfish get mighty hungry this time of night," I said quietly to the Orc, "and they can smell fresh blood for miles and miles."
"You wouldn't!" replied the Orc.
"If you're lucky, you'll just bleed out and hardly feel a thing. If not, well, you're about to find out." And with that, I tossed the helpless Orc into the water, landing with a thunderous splash.
I watched as the still paralyzed Orc could do nothing to save himself. He could only float on the water's surface and await his inevitable doom, like a hare caught in a hunter's trap. And less than a minute later, just as I predicted, I spotted about a dozen small shadows dancing beneath the waves of the sea as they rapidly approached their meal. They formed a circular formation around the floating Orc, basking in the stains of blood. The group of famished slaughterfish then simultaneously charged at the Orc, I could see their jaws reach the top of the water as they all latched their teeth onto his flesh.
"Help! Oh gods, help me!" the Orc cried, his pleas only further aggravating the vicious creatures devouring him alive. I looked on with sadistic pleasure as the Orc's flesh was gnawed and peeled away, his bones ripped and torn asunder. I smiled as his pathetic wails carried through the night sky. The gaze of the moonlight was stained crimson as blood ran through the sea like wine.
The swarm of slaughterfish grew more ravenous every second, their razor sharp teeth mercilessly devouring the Orc like a voracious blaze that razes a forest to the ground. I could feel my whole body teeming with satisfaction as I slowly watched this lowlife die in front of my eyes.
I slowly turned around and walked away as the carnivorous creatures gnawed away the last shreds of the Orc's life. His screams grew fainter as he took his final breaths, the echoes fading gradually as the nightly winds blew over the sea. Soon enough, all was silent once more. I didn't even stop to glance back at the now deceased Orc. I knew that within an hour, after the slaughterfish had all but finished their meal, that he would be nothing but a pile of decayed bones, left to rot as the endless currents of the ocean swept them away.
"How is he?" I asked Anora upon returning. She was still next to Torgron, giving her best effort at keeping the Nord alive as he lay panting and coughing on the docks, fighting for his life.
"Not good," she answered with grimness in her voice, "his wounds are much more serious than I first thought. The arrows pierced his heart and lungs. I don't know what can be done for him, he's bleeding from the inside."
I knelt next to Torgron, and he slowly looked at me with a slight grin on his face.
"Did…did that milk drinker get what was coming to him?" Torgron asked with much strain in his words.
"You bet he did Torgron," I said. "I won't go into details, but let's just say the slaughterfish got an unexpected surprise tonight." Even in his critical condition, Torgron managed to force out a chuckle.
"You sure know how to give your enemies a painful end…" Anora wiped off Torgron's armor as more blood seeped through.
"Listen Sargoth…you still need to destr…destroy that ship. It's the last part of the job," Torgron was coughing up blood as he spoke. "Hurry. We need to get…away from here before more guards show up."
"Right," I said, trying to hide my panic as I feared greatly for Torgron's life. I fiddled with my belt for a moment and adjusted my weapons. "Anora, stay here and keep watching over him. I'll be back soon."
I swiftly ran up the ramp to the ship's main deck and upon reaching the interior, I grabbed a nearby torch from the wall and made for the cargo hold on the lower levels of the vessel.
As I trekked through the dark, musty corridors of the ship, I took notice of just how damaged it truly was. Several large, gaping holes where the ship had been ripped and torn apart could be seen on the walls and floors where water was seeping through. The smell of rotten wood slowly being chewed away by the elements sent a repulsive, repugnant sensation through my nostrils. Cobwebs hung from the rafters beneath the ceiling, black patches of mold were growing and thriving amongst the leakage. Continuing downwards in the ship I could see rows upon rows of crates all bunched and stacked together in piles. Several treasure chests were scattered all over the place as well, probably loaded with valuables that would fetch a nice price. I didn't have any time for looting though. I had one thing on my mind only, and that was destroying this ship and completing the job. Torgron was gravely wounded, and we had to get him help soon.
I came upon a set of stairs that led me directly to the ship's cargo hold. Small pools of water were leaking through the floor, along with the occasional drop that would fall from the ceiling. It wouldn't be of any hindrance to my plan of setting the ship ablaze however. Before destroying this rotting vessel though, I thought I would satisfy my curiosity and look in the crates, just to see what all this trouble was over. Grabbing a nearby crowbar from the ground, I then climbed one of the stacks of crates. I pried the lid off the crate with the crowbar, tossing both to the floor afterwards. Sheets of fur were wrapped around whatever was inside the crate, probably to help keep it secure from damage. After quickly doing away with the fur I saw countless stacks of glass bottles sitting atop one another. I grabbed one from inside the crate to inspect it more closely. The bottle was quite small, the glass was colored with a dark purplish hue. I found it strange how there were no labels to be seen, giving no indication of the contents in the bottle. I popped the cork from the bottle, holding the tip to my nose. I was immediately struck by a powerful, almost overwhelming smell as I took a quick whiff of the bottle. After almost nearly gagging from the sensation, it was then that it dawned on me what was in these bottles.
"Skooma." I was bewildered at my unexpected discovery. Why would the East Empire Company be importing skooma, one of the most illegal substances in Tamriel? Why were they selling it directly to a major city? Usually skooma deals were conducted only in secret between bandits and other lowlife criminal types. I had no clue as to why the Company would be dealing with the drug so openly. Maybe Torgron was right. Maybe they really were corrupt from the inside. It obviously would have taken somebody very high up in the company with a cunning mind and malicious intents to authorize something like this. That would also explain why the other group of bandits showed up the same time we did. They must have known ahead of time what this shipment contained, and they would have been able to sell this for a fortune.
None of that really mattered though. Whatever the reason may have been for the East Empire Company to be bartering with skooma, the fact remained that there was still a job to be done. This shipment still had to be destroyed, and I was more than happy to do it. After all, it was skooma that destroyed my family and severed my parents' relationship. I took a quick glance at the torch in my hand, and without a second's hesitation, I hurled it into the towering stack of crates. They caught fire almost instantly, and the blaze began to spread throughout the room at an alarming rate, devouring everything in its path without mercy. I rushed out of the now smoking cargo hold as the ship continued to burn from the inside out. I made my way back outside and rejoined my companions who were watching the raging inferno.
"We need to leave, now," I said with urgency.
"How are we supposed to get Torgron out of here?" Anora asked me.
"We'll both lift him out of here," I said. "With the two of us together, we should hopefully be able to get him out of here." I took one last gaze at the ship as the growing flames consumed it whole. Within minutes this once mighty vessel would be reduced to nothing but piles of driftwood to be swept away by the ocean's swift current.
"Hang in there Torgron," said Anora, trying to encourage the Nord. "We're going to get you out of here and find help. Just stay with us."
Using all of our strength, Anora and I slowly lifted Torgron from the ground and began to make for the city where hopefully we could find a healer. The Nord was indeed heavy, given his immense size, as well as his cumbersome equipment. Anora and I both struggled greatly to carry him and move at the same time. His axe dangled lazily from his back, drenched with blood. I saw that his wounds were still bleeding, and I knew we were running out of time. Our desire to help our friend was greater than our physical limitations. It was what allowed us to press on, despite our growing fatigue.
"Guys...stop," Torgron said as we approached the city gates. "Put me down, please."
"No, we're almost in the city," I shot back. "We're going to find you a healer, Torgron. You're going to be all right. You're going to make it through this! You can't give up now!"
"No, it's too late for that Sargoth," the Nord said in almost a whisper. "I don't want either of you risking your necks to save me. I hear the call of my ancestors now, beckoning me to the halls of Sovngarde. The gods are calling me home."
"Don't' say that Torgron!" Anora shouted. "Please, you have to stay strong!"
"Leave me here. Save…save yourselves. My time has come, there's nothing you can do for me."
Anora and I glanced at each other. Tears were streaming from both of our eyes, and we reluctantly complied and laid Torgron back down.
Looking into the Nord's eyes, I could see the life in them slowly ebbing away. The joyous, shining sparkle that always radiated like starlight was fading from his gaze as death drew nearer.
"Torgron, please! You can't die! You can't!" Anora yelled, weeping heavily. I was struggling to hold my own tears back as a feeling of sorrow and hopelessness began to swell within my heart.
"Do not grieve for me," Torgron said in a calm, peaceful voice, "for there is no greater honor for a Nord than to die valiantly in battle. A Nord is judged not by how he lived, but by how he died. And there is no other way I would rather leave this world, than through the same way all the great Nordic legends did. I lived a good life, and I know the heroes of old will welcome me to feast with them in the halls of Shor himself." Torgron gave a smile as he spoke. His expression did not show fear nor sadness. Although he knew his death was nigh, he was facing his end with courage, like a true warrior. He was calm and at peace, knowing that a glorious afterlife awaited him.
"Sargoth, I need you to do something for me," Torgron whispered to me.
"Anything, Torgron," I replied.
"Reach into my pouch, take the envelope inside." I complied and shuffled my hand through the Nord's pouch. Sure enough there was a crinkled envelope.
"Inside that envelope is a letter to my son. I need you to find a courier and make sure it gets to him," Torgron paused for a second. "Please, my son needs to know that I love him, and that I'm…I'm sorry."
"Don't worry, Torgron. I'll make sure the letter is delivered."
The dying Nord gave me a smile of gratitude.
"Sargoth, Anora. Do not be afraid, for we must all pass from this world eventually. Never be afraid to follow your dreams, and always be strong. Live in honor, and most of all, live for those you love." Torgron shifted his gaze to the moonlit sky.
"I'm going to miss all of you. It's been an honor getting to know you. The Crimson Serpents gave me the best years of my life, and for that I am eternally grateful." Despite my grief, I was able to muster a smile. Anora was holding his hand as he drew his final breaths.
"On this day…I join my forefathers in paradise." The Nord looked on towards the heavens that were now calling him home, and he then closed his eyes for the final time.
And so passed Torgron Wolf-Scar. A dear friend, companion, brother, and one of the finest warriors I had ever met. My heart was overcome with grief and sadness. It was like a black void the size of the world itself was swelling within me, slowly devouring me whole. Any joy, happiness, or peace I might have had was utterly extinguished like a candle doused by water. I felt as if everything I had ever known at that point was crashing down around me. I remembered it was Torgron who had first welcomed me into the Crimson Serpents when Galthar introduced me to everyone. It was Torgron who kindly greeted me that day, who made me feel as if I had been with them all along. He was a brother to all of us, and I felt like a small part of me died with him that night.
I knelt next to the weeping Anora who was still holding Torgron's hand. She buried her head in my chest as we embraced each other, and I tried my best to console her. I was absolutely dreading going back home and having to break the devastating news to everyone, especially Soren. Torgron and Soren were close as kin for years, and I knew they were pretty much brothers to each other. I didn't even want to imagine his reaction when I told him, but of course it was unavoidable. This was going to be a difficult time for the Crimson Serpents. We were going to need each other through the coming days, and eventually we were going to have to move on and continue living our lives as we always have, just like Torgron would have wanted.
We carried Torgron's body to the top of a hill overlooking the sea on the outskirts of Anvil. The sun was beginning to rise, the sky was painted a bright scarlet as the song of the seagulls circling above echoed over the distant shores. The waves of the ocean crashed against the rocks below as the blooming pastures and evergreen fields shined with vivacious beauty. Anora and I gathered some firewood, piling them together to build a pyre on which we placed Torgron. Anora cleaned all the blood off his equipment, laying his axe vertically along his body and closing his fingers in a tight grip around the hilt. I looked into the face of my fallen friend one final time. I was almost expecting him to suddenly open his eyes with a smile on his face, and everything would be back to the way it was. But alas, it was not to be. Our friend was gone, never to return. Never again would I see his brightening smile. Never again would I witness his fierce skill and determination in battle. Never again would I share a drink with him after a grueling contract, sitting back and telling jokes and getting drunk together. And never again would I meet a finer warrior who showed such loyalty and devotion to his friends, and who died for that loyalty. No, Torgron was gone forever. Life in the Crimson Serpents would never be the same without him.
"Farewell, brother," I whispered. "May the gods welcome you into the halls of Sovngarde."
And with that, I set the funeral pyre ablaze and watched in mourning silence as the flames consumed the Nord's lifeless body.