Chapter 34: Disturbed

Astrid watched warily as a shadowy figure approached the two of them. She and Zirath stood as a young man about Astrid's age stepped into the light, his young, innocent features strangely contradicting the bandit's attire he was currently wearing. Her eyes traced the various scars and bruises that littered the young man's exposed limbs. She then looked about herself, hearing various shuffles and movements in the snow beyond the light of the fire.

"Ah, you must be in need of our services..." Zirath purred, slightly bowing his head. Astrid's eyes lowered, noting that her leader's hand was subtly caressing the dagger at his side as he spoke.

"Aye, the name's Brandt, sir. I don't have much to pay ya with, but I believe the den will have more than enough loot for ya once yer finished." he spoke, his thick Nord accent contrasting with the soft manner of his speech, and his body language surprisingly meek for a bandit.

"Hmmm...You certainly are a peculiar lad. You don't strike me as the bandit type, young Brandt. Please, do sit and explain your situation to us." Zirath instructed, as the three seated themselves around the campfire.

The boy nervously cleared his throat, before beginning. "Aye, it's true. I'm not the bandit type. I was a boy raised on a farm, sir. Nothin' more."

"Interesting...And just who's blood are you wishing to spill, boy?" Zirath pried further.

"The very lot that took me hostage and forced me into their ranks, sir. You see, my papa died when I was no older than fourteen winters, so I had to look over my mother and my two sisters. I made a vow to do just as my father wished. I earned coin, I provided, and I watched over them until..." the young man drifted off, as Astrid could see his eyes glaze over with painful memories.

"A whole band of 'em came one night. They took everything. They were savage and cruel. The things they did to my mother...my young sisters..." he paused a moment, his voice now trembling from the pain of it all. "Then they slit their throats like hogs to be slaughtered for meat. They were gonna off me as well, but decided to keep me to work for them. I thought of begging them for death so I could be at peace with my family...But I knew my father. He was a strong man. He loved his family more than his own life. He'd want me to gain vengeance, and that is what I've come to ask of you, sir. I've been thrown into this life as the slave of my enemies - working and toiling for their gain while I rot in the shackles they've bound me in. Those watching for me..." the young man motioned toward the darkness, as more boys and young men dressed in bandit's attire emerged from the shadows with forlorn, pleading expressions. "They are prisoners as well. We're outnumbered. They starve us half the time to keep us too weak and weary to fight them, and they treat us like animals. Please, sir..." the young man pleaded, his hands clasped tightly together in desperation.

Astrid observed, as Zirath calmly reached into a satchel on his side, pulling out half a dozen small vials. "Do you wait on them hand and foot, Brandt? Do you lay their plates down before them at supper? Pour their ale and meade?"

He nodded eagerly. "Aye, sir...We do all of it. We catch their food, we cook, and we clean their chamber pots...They believe we are scrubbing the dungeons at the moment. A few of the boys are looking out for us. If we're caught this far away, they'll torture us to death. They love torture, sir. They say it makes for good entertainment. Keeps us in line, the chief says..."

Zirath simply smiled, handing the small vials to the boy. "Well, he is right. It does make a most entertaining lesson for those who disobey. I take it your captors don't let you near their supplies of weapons or poisons?" he asked, his voice in a mock-innocent tone.

"Aye sir. They have men guarding their supplies. We're not allowed near them." he explained, eyeing the small bottles with interest.

"When is their next meal served, boy?" Zirath inquired.

"In the mornin', sir. Right before they leave out for their next raid." he replied.

"Splendid. When it comes time for you to prepare their feast, add an extra ingredient. We'll be there as soon as it's safe to come in." Zirath instructed.

The young man smiled widely, seeming elated to hear of Zirath's agreement to help. "Thank you, sir! The den's a couple miles from here on the side of a white mountain."

"I know, my boy. Now, run along. I'll see you come morning..." Zirath cooed, as a faint look of confusion flickered across the young man's face from Zirath's prior knowledge of the lair.

Astrid watched as the young lad and his comrades bounded out of sight. She turned to Zirath, who was smiling slyly in what seemed to be satisfaction.

"Sleep well, Astrid. We have a most interesting day ahead of us..."


"It's dusk. Why haven't we left?" Astrid asked, feeling strangely on edge as she paced about, watching Zirath calmly polish his weapon.

"Haha...Dear sister, Babette's little concoction is a very potent creation, but its effects are a bit...subtle..." he mused, before sheathing the Blade of Woe and examining the darkening sky. "I suppose enough time has passed. Just follow me, sister." he instructed, as the two left the campsite and began to travel the snow-laden route to their destination.


"Ah, here we are, dear sister..." Zirath spoke, his expression one of happy anticipation.

Astrid eyed the dilapidated old shack, which strangely reminded her of her own childhood home. She stepped quietly behind her leader as they silently stalked up to the doorway, which was eerily quiet and unguarded.

Zirath quietly held onto the hilt of his dagger, poking his head through the entrance, before looking to Astrid with a devious smirk on his features. "All is ready. Come with me, dear child..."

As Astrid entered behind him, she nearly stepped on an unconsious bandit who was stretched out on the floor, his eyes wide and his pupils dialated. More bodies were strewn about their surroundings, laying about the floor or slumped over in chairs.

"What did you do to them? Are they all dead?" Astrid whispered, in awe of just how disturbing the scene was.

"Not yet, sister. However, they will be. What we don't accomplish, her poison will take care of. This particular mixture is slowly killing them. It starts by rendering them paralyzed for days. As we speak, their minds, eyes, and ears are fully capable of understanding what's happening before them. Of course, much to their misfortune, their bodies will not be so accomodating. We must make sure to thank our sister when we return, for if not for her mastery of the art of alchemy, we would not have the opportunity to behold such a sight..." Zirath mused, seeming quite elated by the disturbing display before them. He then stepped calmly down a flight of stone steps that seemed to lead to the underground lair, motioning for Astrid to follow.

As she trailed behind her leader, the horrific stench of human waste and decay hit her nostrils. She held her breath, attempting not to wretch from the foul odor as she followed Zirath down the dimly-lit staircase.

When they reached the bottom, Astrid noticed that the area was one huge prison with a long dining table in the center. Her eyes grew wide as she examined the large number of men slumped over, their faces down in their own meals. Gurgling and choking could be heard from a few of the limp bodies, apparently from the food lodged in their throats at the time of collapse.

"Those unfortunate men will meet their fate much quicker..." Zirath purred, slinking behind one of the struggling bodies and pulling the man's head up by his scalp. He briefly examined the dead-eyed bandit, as wine began to dribble from the man's paralyzed lips. "Hm..." Zirath hummed apathetically, letting loose of the man as his body fell back and hit the stone floor, and a trail of blood began to pool from his now fractured skull.

An icy chill ran through Astrid's insides, as she realized just how cold and indifferent her leader could be. Zirath seemed to be simply observing things, without any trace of emotion whatsoever. Astrid knew she wasn't exactly squeamish herself, but she still felt a bit put off by such large amounts of eminent death surrounding her. She reasoned that it was simply because she wasn't exactly used to assassinations at the moment. Sure, she'd killed before, but there was always some emotion or urges involved. These bandits, however savage and inhumane, had done nothing to provoke her instincts. Perhaps she'd grow more capable over time, she figured.

Suddenly, a cry alerted her attention.

"Sir! Over here! It's Brandt! Please! They locked us in here while they were feasting!" Astrid saw the young man among his fellow captives, locked in a dark cell.

Zirath calmly pulled out a lockpick and released them. "I see you were able to properly spice their meal first. Can't have a proper feast without the proper preparations, now can we?" Zirath grinned devilishly, as the young man smiled with relief.

"I-is that all? Are they all goin' to die now?" he asked, seeming more than willing to leave the scene.

"Yes. Slowly...If that is what you truly desire." Zirath replied, his voice laced with another intention. "Of course, you wanted to avenge your family. To avenge the innocence your poor sisters brutally lost...and your unfortunate mother..." Zirath persuaded, nearly taunting the poor farm boy. "Where is your chief?"

Astrid watched as the young man glared toward the head of the table, where a large, muscle-bound Nord sat slumped over. "T-there..." the boy pointed a shaky finger in the bandit's direction.

Zirath paced slowly over to the bandit chief, pulling him up by the hair of his red mane. "You do realize that they are all still fully aware? That you have complete power over every one of these men? Astrid, come over here, dear sister..." he summoned her, pointing to another bandit seated beside the chief himself.

She hesitantly walked to the other man, noting that the chief's eyes were still darting about in horror as the rest of his body remained limp and powerless. Raspy gurgles and breaths came from his chest, as if he wanted to scream in agony and horror. "You see, young man, the chief sees everything. He understands everything. Astrid, take that man's hand." Zirath instructed, as Astrid slowly gripped the other bandit's hand.

"Ah, very good...Now, when I say so, remove it." Zirath continued, as Astrid felt her stomach begin to churn. She watched as Zirath glared into the chief's eyes, locking with them. "Watch very closely, for you are next." he smiled viciously into the Nord's eyes, as Astrid swallowed hard, pulling out her dagger. Zirath turned to Astrid, his eyes as cold and cruel as the bitter winters of Skyrim. "Remove it."

Astrid took a quick, deep breath and brought the dagger down will all her strength. The bandit gasped and sputtered in terror, unable to express his pain or do anything to relieve it. Unfortunately, her blade had only sliced halfway through, being stopped by his bone. Feeling strangely panicked, she looked to Zirath, who simply smiled. "Remove it by any means necessary." he spoke softly, staring into her eyes before handing her his own blade. "Here, it's much sharper. Saw it off if you have too. I want our leader here to have a full preview of what is to come when the farm boy releases his anger on him..."

Astrid dropped her own blade on the table, taking the Blade of Woe and eyeing it. Her heart was beating wildly and sweat began to form on her brow. She was a killer, true, but torture wasn't something she particularly liked, and she was unfortunately finding the fact out from experience. The man beneath her hissed and gurgled, making her feel strangely ill. However, when she looked to Zirath, he seemed so fixated on her - so satisfied with her that she simply lowered his blade and began to saw.