Soft and thick. Snow-dusted fur under the process of acclimating to the harsh cold sprouted between her fingers, accompanied with the sound of thunderous purring. The crisp smell of a heavy snowfall. Powerful jaws home to frighteningly elongated canines. A blurred face caked in blood from a recent hunt.
The High Elf woke with a start.
That dream... No, it could't have been a dream- to vivid... She thoughtlessly flexed her hand, but couldn't shake the feeling of the snow and fur. Her thoughts were quieted as she heard the faintest sound- a new sound. She held her breath and waited. The sound reached her elongated ears, which twitched in response. She sat up, a sleepy Rumare giving a panicked squeak as he slid from his comfortable spot between her breasts and down to her stomach. She put her hand over him and held him close. She placed a finger lightly on his nose to quiet the rat.
The sound came again. The grating was like that of a tavern-wench scratching her long nails against a glass plate just to spite an under-tipping costumer. At least, that is the only thing the High Elf could compare it to. The sound was quickly approaching, accompanied by yelling. She heard the guard posted at her cell shout, before something heavy was thrown against the door.
A knot weighed down her bloated stomach. The quiet grew long.
"Oi- horker-nuts-for-brains! Start checkin' behin' them doors f'r more bandits! We ain't leavin' til every last one o' these bastards be dead!" a deep, gravelly voice split the silence.
A heavily over-exaggerated sigh followed; "Aye, boss."
She heard a door open, the screeching of hinges- ones that had never tasted a single drop of oil- that supported the heavy wood made the High Elf clasp her hands over the sides of her head, suppressing the urge claw at her sensitive ears. Again, another skull-splitting shrill of another room being checked. Then the footsteps stopped in front of her door.
Time seemed to slow. Her heart pumped harshly against her chest, fueled by fear. She started to tremble, sweat beading against her bare golden skin despite the cold that sucked the breath from her lungs.
A click, and the door swung open, but not without protest. Three bulky forms leered at her from the entrance of her cell. Two of the three were frighteningly large, and one was overly beefy and held a large axe at the ready. The last was smaller, their frame hidden behind bundles of cloth, hood tossed over their face and melding their features into darkness.
They were dripping with blood. She swallowed hard, and held Rumare tighter. His fur was bristled and on end, he was hissing softly, teeth bared; Rumare was ready to bolt.
The slightly shorter blond one who had opened her door turned to the one with the axe, "You think she's one too?"
His question was answered with a hearty slap to the back of the head with a meaty fist, making his teeth rattle.
"'Course not, yah bloke!" This man was the largest of the three, in both gut and height. His fiery red braids bouncing off his shoulders as he motioned towards her, "Just look at 'er, the poor creature!" He stepped into her cell and brushed his cloak off his wide shoulders, and held the heavy fabric out to her.
She looked at the fabric bundled in his fist and, glancing up at him warily, took the cloak in her own small and slender hands; she felt like a child compared to this stranger. She slipped the cloak around her shoulders and wrapped it tightly around herself, savoring the warmth; the sickly-bitter smell of body odor and blood embedded in the garb was not as welcome. Rumare sniffed at her and sneezed, squeaking in disdain.
She reached out a hand, which the Nord took. With surprising gentleness from such a big brute, he helped her up. His hand slid to the small of her back as she stumbled, in a protective manner. "C'mon lass, we'll get ya outta this filth." He flashed her a gap-tooth smile and gave her a slight nudge, moving his hand to her elbow.
The High Elf was horrified by what awaited outside her cell. Blood was everywhere; not even the ceiling could escape the smattering of crimson. It was a gory and grotesque scene. Bodies, split clean down the middle, their insides pooling out onto the floor into steaming heaps. Some had multiple arrows embedded deeply into areas of the face, and others had faced the wrath of a magician- corpses half-dissolved, the skin suffering from severe burns and bubbled, blistered, charred.
She held Rumare tightly and whimpered, bile rising in her throat. She moved a hand over her mouth, trying to keep the stench from reaching her stomach. The Nord looked down at her aghast expression and picked her up, settling her in the crook of his arm, and tossed the hood over her head; he was taken a little off-guard with how light she was. He muttered a sincere apology and began back-tracking to the kitchens. They would restock on whatever they could find here, first, and would feed her well before they set off again.
His blonde companion had agreed heartily, eagerly looking forward to raiding the mead supply. The hooded character said nothing, but stalked off towards the kitchens, their own way of agreement.
Soon after, the elf was plopped into a stool and her hood tossed back. She was astonished when all three immediately set to work to preparing meals, especially when the cloaked figure set about to prepare the after-meal sweets. The blond one prepared a concoction of several different drinks, and the red-head in charge of the spit, tossing in different meats and spices. The aromas melding together made her drool, and her stomach growl with vicious ferocity. She blushed, and the others- excluding the cloaked one- laughed heartily.
Table-wear was set, and the food was served- even for Rumare. The elf smiled. She was free. The Nord filled his spoon with hot broth and flung it at his blond companion, who in turn, began flinging food and the red-manned Nord. The Elf chuckled softly.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to remain with them... She pet the fur between Rumare's eyes, disrupting him from his meal of Apple pie. Yeah... She decided. She was going to stay with them. Who knows, maybe they could help me regain what I lost? Her thoughts were hopeful.
They finished their meals and after a bit of rummaging, the Elf found a decent set of miner's clothing to dress in, and fastened the cloak over it. She still couldn't believe that she was free... She hobbled back to where her saviors were waiting, and nodded. The Nord smiled and held her elbow, helping along the still-wobbly High Elf.
All together, they left behind the decomposing remains of that old, decomposing corpse of the Imperial fort.
Sorry it's choppy.
I'm p sick rn