Cragslane Cavern. What a piss-hole.
Nothing but skeever droppings and rotting corpses. How can anyone live in a dump like this? The walls are caving in and the stench is almost unbearable. There have been three caved-in walls that I've seen so far and there are bound to be more farther in. I've already killed six skeevers and I've only been in here for a few minutes. No bandits yet. I did hear a wolf howl once. That should be interesting. Wolves are a lot tougher to sneak up on than people, what with their heightened senses and all. I creep along, silent as I can.
Torch light illuminates the next open room that comes into view, and I crouch a bit lower, drawing the bow from my back and readying an arrow. I hear hushed voices and I can smell mead on the air. There are...three of them, I think. As I move towards the light, I remove each lit torch I pass and smother them out in the dirt. The darker the better. There is a small, wooden balcony connecting to a ramp that leads down into the open room where the bandits are currently. Across the room, there is another passage behind...a fighting ring? There is a circle encased in wooden pallets with a cage that leads further into the cavern. I see a dead wolf in the circle, surrounded by blood. Two of the three bandits are huddled over the pit with coin purses in their hand. The third is behind the bar and he rings a bell. I slide into the corner, watching the scene.
Two more wolves enter the ring from the cage and take position at opposite ends. Then, one bandit snaps his fingers and the wolves lunge at eachother, attacking to kill. I see the ferocity in their eyes, the determination of their movements and the intent in their attacks. They have been trained to fight. Is this legal in Skyrim? Dog fighting? The Tribal Council in Valenwood would have their heads for this. Then again, bandits don't much care for breaking the law, do they?
One dog rips into the others neck and severs its artery, killing it. The bandits around the ring whoop and holler, overjoyed that the dog they bet on won the fight. My stomach turns. Just gives me another reason to kill them. As if the gold wasn't enough.
They approach the bar, plopping their purses down and taking a seat. The bandit bartender gives them both a small vial of some type of liquid, which they eagerly open, draining the contents down their throats. This presents the perfect opportunity. My posture straightens and I raise my bow to the level of my shoulder, straightening my left arm and pulling the shot back slowly. The bow tenses in a delicious manner, whining as it is bent to position. I smile, aiming for the bartender first. I line up the shot, hold my breath for just a moment, close my left eye and release...hitting the man square in the chest. He pauses for a moment, gasping, then sinks to the ground. I release my breath and move, taking position in the other corner.
"What was that?" one bandit mutters, drawing his blade immediately.
I look at him and he looks groggy, his steps random and unmeasured. His sword hand wobbles as he circles the room, looking for me. I smirk again, lining up a shot on him. I close my left eye and release...the arrow lands in his shoulder. He cries out in pain and drops the sword, soon falling to his knees. I jump up from my hiding position and stay to the shadows, vaulting over the wooden balcony and landing behind him. I pull the dagger from my boot and slide it across his throat. He gurgles, his eyes wide with terror and I turn, leaving him there to die. Why should I care about a bandit?
The last one stands by the bar, his eyes scanning the room. He's got two steel daggers, one in each hand, and looks significantly more lucid than the last. He searches for me but I am positioned behind one of the wooden beams that supports the roof: he cannot see me. I wait for him to move, listen for footsteps or heightened breath, but hear nothing. He is either too afraid to move, or is waiting for me to shift and make some sort of noise. Too bad for him. I'm a Bosmer. We don't make noise.
"You can't hide from me!" he calls out, scanning the room again.
Actually, I can. My eyes fall on the pit dog then, and I realize that he is staring directly at me. His teeth are bared and he looks absolutely deranged but, as our eyes connect, something softens in him. I approach him slowly, keeping out of sight from the bandit at the bar, and sheath my dagger. This creature is pained, I see. I scan his lithe, beautiful body and see nicks and scars all over him and a deep, bleeding wound in his side. He won't survive much longer. Not like this. The creature growls at me, warning me away but I do not falter. I do not move.
I reach my hand into the cage and smooth it over his face and he immediately calms, bowing his head into my touch. I can sense longing in him. Desire for...for what? Affection? Care? Yes...that's it. Care. A yearning to be touched, like this. To be looked after rather than used for a fight. I scratch him behind the ear and his tongue wags as he relaxes and allows his eyes to close.
My people have always had an affinity for animals. We have seen them as companions and partners rather than tools to be used. This bond has allowed us to develop a way to communicate with them through expression. They read our body language and facial forms and are able to decipher what our wishes are through that. And, if the creature trusts and respects us enough, they carry out that wish. This wolf, I am hoping, will be no different.
I lean forward a bit more and take his muzzle in both of my hands, stroking my thumb down his long, scarred nose. His eyes open and he looks at me calmly.
What would you have of me?
I smile sadly. I wouldn't wish this upon you, little one. It is not right.
These humans are savages. They have no perception of what is right.
I scratch him behind the ear again. Help me kill this last one, and I will do what I can to aid you. To heal you.
He licks his chops and his eyes darken. You will not beat me...?
The uncertainty in his gaze makes my heart ache. No, I will not. You have my word.
He looks to the bandit, then back to me. A determination flashes in his gaze that makes me grin. ...Unlatch the gate.
I nod once, giving him one last affectionate pat on the nose before moving slowly, deftly up the cage, climbing its linked wall. Once on top, I move on my stomach towards the gate and lift, quietly as I can, opening the cage just enough to get the wolf's body through. He wastes no time sprinting through the door and lunging full force towards the final bandit, his teeth and claws tearing into the man's flesh without the slightest hesitation. His teeth sink into the man's neck and tear it open before he drops back onto all four paws, padding over to where I am. I grin at him and drop back to the ground, giving the beast an appreciative back scratch.
He falls then, to his side and pants heavily and I see blood oozing from his side wound. My breath catches and I reach to my knapsack, searching for a bandage or cloth, anything that could stop the flow of crimson liquid from this beautiful creature.
He whines once. You need not bother with that. What's done is done.
I shake my head. No. I told you I'd heal you. That is what I intend to do.
Finding no bandage in my pack, I reach to the leg of my trousers and rip a long, thick strip off. I move toward the wolf and he whines again, this time pained and desperate. I move him to his feet the best I can and he stands strong, though his legs wobble. I pour a small amount of antiseptic onto the cloth and wrap it tightly around the beast's torso. He growls deeply, not with malice but with pain and I tie off the cloth, pulling the knot tightly. He looks at me and licks my palm, falling back onto his side.
I smooth my hand over his face. Stay here. I will come back for you.
His blinks his eyes once. Yes.
The rest of the bandits were easy to take out. They all seemed rather incapacitated and uncommonly clumsy. I stashed a few vials of that strange liquid away, hoping that they will have some value in Riften. And hopefully I can nurse that wolf back to health and release him. He has seen enough violence for a lifetime.
As I dislodge an arrow from the head of the Bandit Chief, and search his pockets. He's carrying 47 septims, a small polished amethyst, two healing poultices and four vials of that strange liquid. I stow away what I can and hurry back to the arena, eager to get back to the injured wolf. He lays there still, and I worry for a moment that he may have died. Upon my arrival though, his ears perk up expectantly and his tail wags a bit. I smile at him.
...You returned.
I run my hand along his muzzle. I promised you that I would.
What will happen to me now?
The anguish in his voice pains me and I am struck suddenly that he is the last of his pack. The rest of the wolves lay dead in cages from either starvation, abuse, or pit fights. I feel my heart sink for the creature. He is alone. Completely...and utterly alone. My mouth sets into a hard line and I reach for him, scooping him up as gently as I can and holding him on my shoulders. Gods above, he is heavy...
He whines. What are you doing?
I start towards the entrance to the cave. I'm taking you with me, little one.
He pants a bit and I pick up my pace a bit, taking longer strides. I will not let this creature die while I can do something to save it. I'll mend his wounds better once we're outside the city and away from this place. Perhaps I can requisition a priest to aid him. I'll do whatever it takes.
I look back at him and manage a small smile. "I will call you Neshoba."
He growls appreciatively, and licks the side of my face.
A softer side has been shown by Kyari as her Bosmer roots show themselves. The trek to the city will be long and hard. Will she make it back with Neshoba still alive? And what of Brynjolf and his offer? More to come!