Countless tomes have been written on how to win a fight
Keep your shield arm strong, begin with a high stance
But no matter which way you cut it, there really is only one thing to remember
Don't die
Claudia thought it was hot in Hammerfell with its deserts and unrelenting sun with few trees and clouds to provide shade. When she was a shepherd she often wondered if the temperature could get any hotter, if the sun could get any more brutal. She had found that the answer to that question was in fact yes; the place was called the Alik'r Desert.
Sticky had warned them as such as they prepared to leave early that morning. Claudia still felt her head pounding. The night before Sticky had begged them to tell him stories of their adventures. Sibylla was in a festive mood and poured them each a tankard of mead. Claudia passed out after barely finishing one, much to the surprise of Sibylla and Sticky. She never intended that to happen, the mead was much stronger than she thought it was going to be and she probably drank it too quick. While the Nord and merchant were fine that morning, the Imperial archer was still dizzy and far from feeling well. Amidst Sticky's echoing voice, she painfully heard that they had to keep an eye out for bedouin tribes as they were a wild card in the Alik'r. They were equally likely to ignore travellers as they were to be friendly or lethally hostile. There was no way to tell with any given tribe until it was far too late. However, the merchant warned, the sun was their known enemy. Water was scarce, only the bedouins knew where the scant and precious few oasis and springs were and many agreed the Alik'r was probably one of the hottest places in Tamriel. He was right. The heat quickly brought her to her full senses in no time only for her to register the painful reality of it all.
"So you passed out early last night." Sibylla chuckled as the camel plodded along on the sands. Claudia had heard earlier that she had named her pack beast "Karl." The camel did not seem to mind being weighed down with the usual list of supplies as well as two extra barrels of mead on top of the extra passenger on board though she felt a little bad for the animal to be dealing with all of the weight under the cruelty of the Alik'r sun.
"Yes, I forgot why I could never drink mead with you." Claudia murmured.
"Haha, I was wondering. So, tell me about yourself. What have you been up to in the year we've all been separated." the warrior woman asked.
"Became a shepherd, watched goats and sheep for a year, shot jackals to keep my archery sharp. Got tired of that, became one of Sticky's 'talented assistants.'"
"You never really struck me as one of the professional sneaky types."
"Wasn't my original intent. I was actually under the impression Sticky would be able to help me find you all. Turns out information isn't so cheap and I had to work for it. Still, he's not a bad guy once you get to know him. He's just a very competitive businessman." Claudia shrugged.
"Do you remember what he said about how long it took to get to this Dwarven tower? I thought he left you with all the details that he got from the merchants."
"He did, I breezed through them last night before you handed me the tankard of mead. It'll take us three days to get there."
"Hmm. Glad we have enough on water. I'd sure hate to go without it in this place."
"Right."
The hours started to slow down as the sun crept higher and higher into the sky. They even noticed that Karl was beginning to slack in his pace. Sibylla quietly suspected that she had been sold the most moody camel in the pack since she was quite certain she had seen camels weighed down with far more travel further distance. However, knowing that it would do them no good to wear themselves out, Claudia stepped off and began erecting a makeshift tent that she had stowed away before they left. It was made just so to maximize protection from the sun and to keep them as cool as possible. As it turned out, she did learn a few useful things being a shepherd. The two settled down to rest, sheltered from the worst of the sun as Karl sat in the sand, legs tucked and folded away under him. Trying to ignore the worst of the heat, Sibylla decided to make conversation.
"Aren't you hot in those desert robes? I know they're meant to be light and keep the sun off you but you seem to be hiding in them." the Nord observed.
"I burn easily. I'd rather be uncomfortable than dealing with a burn that won't go away." Claudia lied casually, hoping that Sibylla couldn't read the deception as easily as she heard heartbeats.
"Tell me about you. What have you done this past year? How did you get that full suit of ebony armor?" Claudia returned, trying to draw attention away from herself.
"It's a long story." Sibylla shrugged.
"I highly doubt we're going anywhere anytime soon."
"If you insist..."
Forty-eight hours ago, she was living a normal life. She was in love, was a Vigilant of Stendarr and was respected by lay person, guard and cleric alike due to her abilities. Twenty-four hours ago, her relationship met an untimely and violent end when the man she loved was killed. Now, she was on the run, in exile, her whole life ruthlessly taken out of her control and everything she had worked for in life had been wrestled out of her grasp. Most people mourn with tears and rage. Sibylla mourned mourned with violence on those who would give others a bad day. It was not a good time to be a bandit on the road from High Rock to Hammerfell.
To say that she left a trail of broken bodies along the road was an understatement. She actively hunted them. Even if it meant traveling a few days off the road to track down some lost cave or crumbling ruin to clear a bandit hideout, it was what she did. In the space of a week, she had only traveled the distance of a two day journey down the road to Hammerfell, constantly returning to the main road but always being distracted with bandits. There would always be more, that was the fact of life.
Did she regret killing so many? A little, she knew at some point she was venting rage and going on a murderous rampage. Even if she was letting it out on bandits who would only cause trouble, it did not change the fact that she had just reduced herself to a murderous psychotic. She often collapsed in their own dens which she had just recently turned into their mass graves, resting promptly after slaughtering them all. She ate the provisions they left there, it was not as if they were going to need it anymore. On some occasions a stray scouting party would return to find the rest of their comrades' demise and interrupting Sibylla's rest in the process. They paid dearly for that. The method lacked sophistication but it was effective in wiping out whole gangs of the marauders. On the rare occasions a group would return long after Sibylla left, many were left in utter terror at the grisly work. It was those few survivors that spread the word. Nonetheless, there was no escaping the cheapness that she saw herself becoming. Someone had ruined her life so she was going to ruin others. She could not find the willpower to divert from her destructive path.
At some point she made her way into the mountains just on the edge of the Hammerfell border. By that time, word had gotten around that a lone woman was rampaging through the bandit gangs. Others had decided to get together for safety but soon convinced themselves that they could take a more active role. Instead of letting the crazed warrior woman come to them, they were probably better off killing her on their terms.
The combined force of marauders caught Sibylla right outside the fortified walls of an Orc stronghold right on the edge of the border. They had been waiting for nearly a week for just her. Admittedly, she was tired and exhausted. Perhaps in some ways she was seeking death as she barely took care of herself. Her whole agenda, her life, was just dictated by the next group of brigands to massacre Now, with her generic and dented steel armor and her ax that was in desperate need of sharpening, she only had herself to fight off a small army. Expecting death but also hungrily lusting for a good fight, Sibylla plunged into the fray. She almost got her wish.
It was just wave after wave, group after group of enemies and Sibylla learned quickly on how much she had come to depend on the other members of her old group; Claudia, Do'Ravier, Bann-Je and the adrenaline and murderous joy kept her swinging and moving long after the cuts, jarring blows and even a couple arrow wounds started to weigh her down. Realizing she was at the end of her strength, she sent all her force into a whirlwind blow of her shield against the closest opponent she could find. She did not know if she had any more enemies after she landed on the ground. She laid down and her eyes immediately closed as she let go of consciousness.
When she woke, Sibylla immediately became aware of the fact that she was weak, her whole body hurt too much to move and she had to have been placed inside a shelter of some sort since she could not see the sky. She saw torches lining the walls and smelled smoke. However, her first waking was quickly cut short when she saw a hooded man look over her and felt a bowl filled with liquid pushed to her lips. Things quickly became dark again after that.
The next time she woke she still felt sore but also commanded more strength in her bones. She did not even think about getting up and her muscles responded immediately though they protested in agony over the exercise. She got a better look at her caretaker this time. He had the same tan hood and was an older man with a close cut crop of gray hair. He looked like a monk of sorts.
"Did...you save me?" Sibylla croaked, voice hoarse. The monk tossed her a sealed water skin to drink.
"No. You'll have to thank our hosts for your rescue. Me, they just abducted after they realized your wounds were too severe for them to handle." the monk chuckled without mirth.
"But who are our hosts?" Sibylla sputtered, barely having swallowed the water.
"It seems you caught the attention of the Orcs hiding in their stronghold. You're in one now, the one you fought just outside of a few weeks ago after killing all those bandits."
"Wait, I killed them all?"
"I'm told you killed all but a few. The Orcs were so impressed with your martial strength that they shot up the last few stragglers. They brought you in here to nurse you back to health but your wounds were too severe. I happened to be passing along, wondering what kind of battle took place when the Orcs stopped me and demanded I tend to you." the monk explained.
While the Orcs may have been impressed with Sibylla's work, they did not seem too sociable either. She was still in many ways an outsider. However, she did not complain, they had saved her life after all. But she had a long road towards full recovery and the monk, an Imperial named Arisan, did his best to make sure she healed properly even if he did not seem too enthusiastic about his forced charity. Sibylla wondered about the Orcs because she did not see much of them and when they did show up, they never stayed long enough for her to get a good look at them. Often they just passed food or supplies into the roundhouse and left without a word. However, just as Sibylla was ready to stand on her feet, a passing of two weeks, something rather out of place happened.
Several Orcs came in, each carrying a beautifully crafted piece of ebony armor. Without a word they began strapping and securing it around her despite the fact that she barely had the strength to wear it. When that was accomplished they gruffly murmured a few commands to move just to make sure the armor worked perfectly. Orc craftsmanship did not go to waste or was blemished in this endeavor, it fit her like a glove and moved about her like a second skin of impenetrable scales.
"You will have one week to recover, after that you must leave. May your battles be as well and as glorious as the one you displayed to us." the leading Orc announced.
"But what is the armor for?" Sibylla asked curiously.
"If you are going to have such battles, you should probably have better equipment. Consider this a gift so that next time you will not have to recover for so long."
No sooner did they leave that Arisan chuckled before furtively whispering to her. "What they're not telling you is that if you hadn't come along, they'd probably starve to death. All those bandits waiting for you had effectively put them under siege, they couldn't leave to get supplies. Their leader who also doubled as their shaman was killed when they first showed up and was caught off guard outside the walls. You saved them all, and in some ways shamed them by fighting off all of those bandits alone."
When the time came to leave the two were escorted out of the stronghold, Sibylla wearing her new armor. The Orcs did not have anything to same to them, only giving the monk and warrior an approving nod before the gates were politely closed behind them. The Nord re-fastened the straps holding her gauntlets before thinking of something.
"Before you go, would you happen to know anything about fighting the undead, like ghosts and demons?"
"Why? Is not killing these marauders enough? Do you wish to continue pursuing them beyond the veil of death?" the monk chuckled sarcastically.
"Not all of my enemies may be of the physical nature." Sibylla retorted.
"True, true. Hmm...There is a wayshrine to Stendarr somewhere down the road, not even a few hours journey from here. It will be utop a hill off to the side of the path. You will not miss it. They say that the shrine itself was placed there in benediction to a warrior who fell fighting the undead. Something about that sentimentality might be what you're looking for. Place your weapons upon it and pray. Perhaps Stendarr may grant you your petition."
"Very well." Sibylla murmured before pausing. She thought of one last thing as the monk gathered his things and began on his own path down the road back towards High Rock.
"Thank you. For everything."
"Do not thank me, for I have done everything as is expected of a follower of the Divines, nothing more. Besides, what was I suppose to do, just let you die there? I thought Nords liked to die in glorious combat, not in a botched, half-rescued state. T'would be most impolite of me to just let you die like that if such is your belief." the aging monk cracked with a sly grin. That was the last she ever saw of him.
The two woke from inadvertently falling asleep in the depth of the afternoon heat. After a quick and light meal, they got Karl up and began their journey again, the camel a little grumpy about having to work. They were following yet another tip Sticky had left for them from the veteran merchant travelers who passed through the region; travel at night. It is far more comfortable to do so. However, they also knew that it was more dangerous. Jackals were more active at night than during the day and the scorpions as well as the desert vipers liked to come out during that time too. Sibylla may have been more vigilant to keep an eye out for any unwanted creepy crawlies but Claudia remained relaxed. She knew all she had to worry about was to listen for stray heartbeats. She detected none.
"Say, are your eyes still good?" Sibylla asked as they bounced along on Karl's back.
"Sharp as ever."
"Good. I'm glad to have an extra pair of eyes. That also means I can be more at ease wearing my helmet." the Nord chuckled, putting the armor piece back on her head.
"Right. We'll be right back to the good old days in no time." Claudia replied, still depending more on her ears than anything else.
For the first few hours there was nothing to be said. It was just them, the camel, the moon overhead and an endless sea of sand cut through by the lonely beaten path. Nothing was said. Only the whispers of the wind filled their ears for some time.
Claudia started to feel herself get hungry again. It did feel like such a long day after just sleeping for a few hours in the afternoon and now staying awake during the long hours of the night. She could feel the body heat of the pack beast under her as well as hear the slow but strong rhythmic thumping of Sibylla's heartbeat in front of her. She suddenly realized how breathtakingly simple it would be. Just remove the woman's helmet. A friend wouldn't think too much of it. Before the Nord could protest, Claudia could just sink her teeth into her neck and-
Claudia stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks. Horrified and ashamed that she would think of something like that, she shifted uncomfortably on her seat. Knowing that the vampirism within her was probably becoming more deeply seated, she wondered how long she would have, much less what would happen if and when it completely took her over. Would she be cursed forever balancing control and the hunger of a beast within her or would she one day lose herself completely? It was not something she wanted to think about.
But she was hungry. Fighting the two urges again, she dug her fingers into Karl's hide until the camel out out a small grunt of protest. That wasn't going to work. She clenched her mouth shut, refusing to let the hunger get the better of her. And Sibylla's heartbeat was right there in front of her practically screaming for her to end it. She needed something to think about. The urge started to die down again but she was very unsettled with what had happened.
Her distraction came in the form of a stray heartbeat. After some scrutiny, she realized that it was in fact several heartbeats. Straining her ears, she decided that it was coming from a small group, no more than four, off several dunes away. They had to be human, the strength and speed of the heartbeats was the only thing that made sense considering the context. However, despite her initial alarm, she decided that they were curious bedouins as they never really shortened their distance on them. Claudia was wary but did not want to needlessly raise an alarm. She also reasoned that if they started trying to spontaneously start eluding them, that would only further feed the bedouin's curiosity. In the end, Claudia thanked her heightened senses and remained calm. She would keep an ear on them but there was little reason to go panicking at the moment.
Despite the constant, if small presence of the bedouins tucked away in the back of Claudia's mind, they ultimately proved to be no trouble. The Imperial wrote them off as either being curious or not having anything better to do. If they were scouting out potential victims, Claudia and Sibylla did not make a worthwhile target. Two more days dragged passed, avoiding the worse of the sun and trying to live with the dull edge of thirst as they rationed their water. It was a joyous sight indeed when they spotted the iconic outline of a Dwarven tower suddenly erupting out of the sands off on the horizon. Claudia insisted, despite Sibylla's protests, to rest during the worse of the noon heat. They would get to the tower in the late afternoon. There was no sense needlessly exhausting themselves this close to their goal.
Once dusk came they packed up Karl and continued on with renewed vigor, watching intently as the tower grew larger and larger in their field of vision. With each step they noticed that it was not just a solitary tower since there appeared to be a storeroom or other structure just off to the side of it. They could also see from the dancing of shadows and light that someone had lit a fire outside of it. Claudia could already hear the heartbeats. She also knew that some of those were jackals but otherwise ignored it. Being this close to anything resembled civilization discouraged the wild dogs.
"So, just knock on the door and ask if Do'Ravier is around?" Sibylla asked.
"We'll have to take a good search and look ourselves. If that cat is smart, he'll know to keep a low profile. If there are more people there, people we don't know, we might want to keep it quiet ourselves. It all depends on what's there. Just follow my lead." Claudia reassured.
They were rather surprised about the first sight they spotted. Claudia found out what happened to that jackals she had sensed. There were three of them and they were dead on the sands. What killed them was easy to figure out. The wild dogs had been pierced open by a large, sharp object while the ground around them was clearly moist by the darkness of wet sand. It was clear that they had been killed by the use of ice magic, frost that had already melted in the heat.
"I don't remember Do'Ravier ever using using ice. It wasn't his style." Sibylla whispered to Claudia.
"We've gone this far, we might as well see it to the end." the Imperial replied though she too did not like that either.
The fire they had spotted was in fact a large forge which was being manned by a short, barrel chested Redguard who was stripped to the waist. He was working relentlessly on the glowing metal in his grasp and judging by the empty waterskins gathered around him, had spent a long day working hard.
"Excuse me." Claudia called, prompting the Redguard to look at her. His short if beefy frame was covered in short hair while sweat dripped from his short beard.
"Is there a mage inside this tower?"
"You can't miss her. She should be right inside." the blacksmith replied simply before pounding away at the reddened steel. The two women exchanged nervous looks before saddling up Karl and making their way inside the ornate and large brass doors that served as the tower's entrance.
The inside showed to be more furnished than they originally expected. It was also clear that the tower was much larger on the inside than they had expected. Off to the side was a bar stocked with all kind of spirits and drinks while a makeshift kitchen sat further behind it. The original Dwarven carpets and decorations had either been taken away or re-purposed. Most of the original Dwarven cups and bowls had been put back to their originally intended uses after sitting dormant for uncounted years. And immediately before them was a robed figure scrutinizing a book while sipping from a cup which contained some steaming warm beverage.
"Can I help you?" the robed figure asked, revealing herself to be a young Redguard woman. There were three clear, deep scars running down one side of her face.
"We're looking for a Khajiiti mage. He was quite interested in Dwarvan artifacts. Would he happen be around here?" Claudia asked, a little surprised at her own directness. She reasoned if they got this far, no sense in dragging it out now.
"Hmmm, even if we had such a mage fitting that description, why would you be looking for one?" the Redguard asked skeptically, folding her hands in front of her.
"I assure you, we don't mean him any harm." Claudia assured.
"Listen lady, we've been fairly polite up to now, we don't have to continue being-"
"Sibylla! Don't threaten our hostess." the Imperial scolded, in front of the still very skeptical Redguard.
"Sylva, I'm telling you, I do not have any such books on that matter in my library!" a voice called from up the winding staircase in the back.
"Who is that?" Sibylla pressed. The Redguard woman, Sylva, brought her palm to her forehead and sighed heavily.
"And I see we have guests at this late hour. Well, it's not that late, just rare that we get any at this time. Welcome to our rather sizeable tower abode and- and...I know you two..."
Rapidly padding down the stairs, a similarly dressed mage moved towards them before putting his books on a nearby counter. The could see that his feet were bare and clearly feline, whiskers poked from out of his hood. It was when he removed his hood completely and they saw a familiar set of ears, one sticking from his head lopsidedly, that they had no doubts.
"What are you two doing here? It's been so long and what are you doing out in the Alik'r?" the Khajiit asked in surprise.
"Do'Ravier...you're the lord of this tower?" Claudia sputtered.
"Me? Lord of this tower? No, that's not me." the Khajiit shook his head.
"But they said the lord of this tower was a mage, an unstable one." Sibylla smirked.
"Oh, I see, you must have gotten the information crossed. The lord of this tower isn't the mage." the Khajiit shrugged.
"Then who is the lord of this tower?" the Imperial woman asked.
"Look behind you at the bar and maybe you can figure it out."
The two took a moment to scrutinize the counter but could find no clue. All they saw was an immaculately kept kitchen space. Sibylla was especially short on patience.
"I'm not seeing it, cat."
"No, wait..." Claudia murmured.
She noticed a pattern. The wine bottles were all kept in sets of three, the tankards were kept in sets of three. There were even three wash cloths neatly folded off to the side. She knew that pattern. It all came rushing to her.
"Don't tell me that psychopath somehow managed to become lord of a tower!" Claudia exclaimed.
"Indeed, he did." Do'Ravier chuckled.
