He slunk out the door like a cat, making sure to close it softly behind him, before gazing out into the night. The moon, or rather, both of them, one white and the other orange, hung in the sky, not a cloud to mask their presence. There was a chill in the air, and a slight wind nipped at His pant's legs. He waited before moving across the wooden deck and onto the grass, His eyes sweeping back for anyone who might have been passing nearby. Thankfully, the only other living thing near Him was the farm animal, and it was currently asleep near the cabbages. He moved on.
He slipped off the deck in a subtle amount of movement, nearly gliding on His feet as He stepped onto the stone road. He looked down towards the intersection, but would not approach it, rather going to the far end of the T in the opposite direction. The guards from before, while obviously being rotated out of shift, would be watching the main road, and if the small bouts of light were anything to go by, they had torches and were set at the gates. While He could definitely leave that way, the guards would no doubt be suspicious and questioning as to why He was leaving in the dead of night. Instead, He opted for rotating around the back of the farm house, until He was directly in front of the inside wall.
The wall was made of stone, but it was poorly made of simple rocks and cementing, leaving several exposed footholds. While none were quite large enough for Him, it would only take a decently positioned one before He could just grab the top of the wall itself and hoist Himself over the middle. The top part was covered by a simple wooden roof, and a long running, waist high rope to prevent falls. He slid under the rope, before swiftly turning himself about and lowering bodily down the opposite side.
Outside the walls, the wildlife of Skyrim rose to meet Him in the form of wild grass, large pines, and plentiful shrubbery. He lowered Himself to a crouch, slipping through the underbrush towards the road, away from the gate. He paced Himself, watching His feet as He deftly skimmed around pebble clumps and crossed over open rock formations. Large, low hanging branches were pushed out of the way with tender care before being gently returned to their natural resting place. He was several meters from the gate now, but the guards may have been able to see Him if He moved out now. taking care, He held to the side of the road, and moved His body sideways, carefully waiting for a bend to appear in the road that would mask his presence.
He eventually crossed it, several minutes walk away from the gates now but it let Him step onto the road without exposure. Gerdur had mentioned that there had been bandits plaguing travelers, but she hadn't a clue to their hideout, if anything, it would be up to Him to find out where the frequented and passed in the night, even with His sight and speed, it would have taken hours, but thankfully, He already had an idea to where they might have been.
When Ralof and Him had been walking down the road, they had passed a small dirt pathway leading off from the main road. They had continued on, but he had at least noticed the path, and the footprints that had marked it rather recently. based upon assumption, He could safely say that the Bandits were held up in some type of cave, just a few minutes off the road, but just hidden enough that it wouldn't warrant investigation from a passer by. That would be the best place to start.
Free from observing eyes, He broke into a sprint down the road, His limbs barely making noise as they pumped up and down, nearly flying Him down the path on their gathered momentum. He sprinted in a near blur of movement, and with barely a noise save for the scattering of wildlife in His presence. While not afraid of Him exactly, the natural world around Him was very close to the human world, a basic instinct to get out of the way of something so unnatural. It didn't matter to Him, as long as the other predator's stayed out of the way, it would be a hassle to have to deal with every spider or bear that may have crossed His way.
In less than thirty minutes with no interruption, He slowed down as the familiar rise in the road started to appear. In the dark, the pathway was nearly invisible, but it stood out as if it was still day time. He turned on to the path, and slowly trailed it at a moderate speed, His head looking about as shrubbery was parted and the path slowly wound its way in the direction of the mountain side. The path was well worn, a show of frequency, which was reasonable insurance to assume that there were more than a few bandits that harassed the road.
Five minutes of cautious movement rewarded Him in the form of a pair of doors. They were old, cast with iron hinges upon a heavy log frame. The frame itself was positioned and secured within the entrance of a cave. The outside was not much to look at, with a few extra barrels, an old chair, and a lamp holder, but the inside of the door, while with no windows, had a slight glow protruding from underneath. It was occupied, and only fools and renegades would hide in such a place. Moving forward, bent low, He rested one hand against the door as he listened. His axe hung freely in His hand, waiting to assail any foe on the other side. Seeing as there was nothing, He pushed the door open.
The inside of the cave was much warmer than the outside, and inspecting the cave it was easy to figure out why. The shaft of the cave, after the framing for the door, abruptly slanted downwards for several feet, supported every so often by wooden cross beams and intersected with a few lit torches. A wooden ramp rested upon the right side of the walkway, probably to allow materials to be pulled up rather than carried up the slope. The floor was dirt, but the surrounding walls and ceiling were a dark stone, and every so often a differential vein of some material would appear among the cracks. He slowly crouched as he took a step further, His height too large to stand fully in the cave, leaving His already massive appearance hunched and filling the remaining space. He put one hand to the ground to balance Himself, and moved down the slope, sliding down it smoothly with the rustling of falling pebbles and shifting dirt to accompany Him.
As the floor leveled out he spotted something of interest, in the form of a taut string and a metal stake in the floor. He walked forward, staring at the stake and then tracing the thin string as it stretched across the dirt path, went vertical against a support beam, and then went into a small wooden hole in the ceiling. Right before a suspiciously out of place doorway. It wasn't like the door from above, rather, it was much thinner and made with fewer boards, but He had already assumed its purpose. It was a simple trap, the string breaking allowing a hidden mechanism to release the doors and let fall what would most assuredly be boulders. What a barbaric and obvious charade.
It is not meant to kill, merely to alarm. A cunning distraction in the form of potential death. If only it had been that simple to find on Gora- The thought cut off abruptly, and now He was upset by the distraction. Not only was He occupied with engaging hostiles, despite being unaware of his presence, but the memory had nearly given him some information; A Name. While it may not have solved anything, it could easily be used to piece together what past he might uncover.
He left the trap be, ducking to the side and crossing around it upon the wooden planks. The trap had no use for Him, despite that it could possibly gather all His enemies together at once, which, despite His form and prowess, he was still un armored, and enough blades could put Him down. He could hopefully solve this issue tomorrow morning. Until then, it would be best to engage the enemy on His terms, alone, in the dead of night. The pathway rounded a sharp curve, and the torches disappeared. He slid His hand along the wall, before peeking His head out, inspecting the area beyond.
The pathway opened up into a sizable cave, the entrance He was in going from solid ground to a well made wooden bridge situated above a small underground lake of foggy dark water, in the shape of a T, at least, it would have been, if note for the drawbridge sitting in the middle area that was raised. Directly across from Him sat another entrance, and next to it was a raised out crop with several shelves, and most importantly of all, a rather oversized lever upon a rock pedestal. That would give Him access to the cave beyond, and His quarry. He made to step out onto the bridge, only to pause instantly at the sound of voices to His right. Frozen, He listened closely, selectively listening to the vocals despite the sounds of torches behind Him and what was most likely a fire to His right.
"I'm telling you, someone might just wander in here." the first voice said, carried off the walls of the cave, the man was nervous, and his concern was more than apparent about the rather revealed nature of their hideout. It was not entirely unfounded, it was almost child's play to find the path and follow it. A second voice merely laughed in the face of the first's concerns.
"Ha, as if." the new voice said, "We're fifteen minutes away from the road, not to mention that we have a look out during the day, as well as the rock trap to warn us if someone actually makes it in." There was a pause, followed by another chuckle. "You're just paranoid." A paranoid mind is an alert one.
That needed to stop soon.
The second voice spoke again "Still" he started to be cut off. "Forget it." was the reply it received, "Go to sleep, you've got watchin the morning." There was grumbling to that, before a large amount of shuffling. The fire was put out, the only lamination now from the fog on the water and the far wall mounted torch in the stone.
He moved. Crouching low from his position, He hesitantly began to reach His feet out onto the bridge, keeping pressure in the balls first, and then planting Himself firmly without a sound. he looked to the right where the voices had originated from, and found that the two men he had heard talking were now within bed rolls of harsh cloth and sewn leathers, facing away from Him. they were down below, next to the water, and the fire they had recently put out still emanated the glow of embers and a slight smoke that was waiving up towards the ceiling of the cave. On the far side of the bridge, a ramp lowered towards the floor where the men were at. He moved across cautiously, with the silence of a ghost, the only sign of His passing the displacement of air.
He slid down the ramp, axe held up at His side as he returned His feet to solid soil. He moved forward, raising Himself to full height as he approached the two sleeping men. As He closed the distance to a few feet, the first man's eyes opened and stared at Him.
There in the shadows of the dying fire, was a figure of horrors. It was huge, as tall as a house, it's broad form covered in nothing but a pair of ragged pants, armed with a vicious gleaming axe in it's hand. The man's eyes widened as the figure reached forward for him in a sudden burst of quickness. There was sheer fear in his eyes, and his mouth opened, squawking out a shrill scream that was swiftly silenced by the swift and firm slam of an axe pick lancing itself through the man's trachea. It was enough of a warning though, as the second man had woken up.
"huh" was all that was out of his mouth, before a fast moving blur slid next to him, and suddenly his left arm was gone from the elbow and below. He didn't even get the chance to scream before His head was grabbed and forcefully slammed into the stone wall, all but obliterating the skull of the man. The fight, or rather, take down had been rather messy, and both he and his articles were sprayed with blood, His free arm covered in pieces of gore. He shook what He could off, and instead moved back towards the ramp. he turned right, following the pathway at a crouch as the roof lowered suddenly. A turn later, and it was standing among the bookcases, and in front Him lay the lever. A quick push from His hand sent it reversed.
The drawbridge lowered sharply, and a much quicker pace, until it landed with a rather large thump. If the short scream had not alerted anyone beyond this point of an intruder, that most certainly did. He decided it would be in His best interest and wait for them to come to him. He grabbed the singular torch that was near the bookcases and threw it into the water, casting the overlook in darkness. His large eyes pierced the gloom and shade with ease. He thankfully did not have to wait long.
Three pairs of feet could be heard pounded down the hallway leading to the drawbridge, moving with a haste and the often clank of metal upon metal. Armored, and armed with what he could not know. The runners slowed down as they approached the drawbridge, before stepping out of the entry point. Two of them were human, a male clad in iron armor with a shield and a mace, and a female clothed in strange pelts and armed with a crude single handed axe, but the third, it drew disgust from within Him that he did not know He possessed.
It was clad in crude plate, similar to the male's but where that man carried a mace and shield, this creature had opted for a double handed war hammer, and held it at the ready as it crossed the bridge slowly. It had a single band of hair, tied back into a large tail atop it's bald head. Tusk exposed from a large under lip jaw, spittle glinting upon them as it stared at Him with beady, red, hate filled, eyes. It opened it's massive mouth to scream at Him in anger and rage, a mighty roar that it's kin repeated in vicious uproar in preparation for the coming blood shed.
No.
The creature in front of Him was not the same of the un-unnervingly clear memory. It had two tusks, but a regular jaw set, and only a small pony tail of black across it's head. it's eyes were not hate filled and read, He could see them from here, and it wasn't opening its mouth to scream at Him. It merely walked cautiously across the bridge behind the two humans. Still, despite the differences, He felt a rage building within Him, speaking, no, yelling at Him to destroy the xenos in front of Him with a single minded intensity. It was well deserved, no matter the differences it was still a Xenos. The thought compelled Him, and with a split second to formulate a plan, He sprung from His hiding spot and flew onto the bridge.
He landed between the humans and the Xeno with a cataclysmic shake that threatened to destroy the wooden bridge. Thankfully it held despite the shaking, though mainly due to the wide spread position of His feet spanning across it. All three of the bandits yelled out in shock as they were sent reeling backwards, lowering themselves to the bridge or in the woman's case, falling over. He turned within an instant towards the green skinned monstrosity, His eyes eyeing the primitive plate and where best to strike. Joints were covered by simple cloth, the waist was bound by a leather belt, the neck was highly exposed, no knee guards. His axe was hard swung, wide, to leverage enough force to sever the knee in twain. The beast screamed aloud, falling down, but it still resisted it's imminent death, raising it's warhammer up at the return swing. The swing was reaching its zenith when He heard the air displacement behind Him from the quick movement of a rather heavy object.
Quicker than a serpent, His hand lashed out behind Him, snatching the half of the mace as it began to descend upon His turned back. He rested His palm heavily upon the steel shaft, and began to squeeze. He paid no attention as the metal beneath his hand slowly bended to His strength, nor the yells of the man as his hand was caught partially in the incredibly strong grip, and neither the wild beating of the wooden shield upon His wrist, where the wood was beginning to smash and crack against iron hard flesh and stone wrought bone. He finished the Xenos off with a bow that caved it's skull, and sent it flailing into the waters below, it's weapon dropping to the bridge in a clatter. He turned to face the warrior with what remained of his useless lump of steel that was once a mace. He was paused momentarily by a small pain in His side.
He looked down, and was thoroughly surprised to find that the woman who had fallen early had risen to a crouch and had planted the axe in His side with both hands. She smiled at the blow, and He was forced to respect that, it was His mistake after all. He had focused fully upon the swiftest death for the greenskin menace, and His free hand had stopped the second most noticeable threat. His focus would not be impaired again, He swore to Himself, but first, to avenge this blow dealt by those who would rather stay silent than truly fight. The smile on the woman's face disappeared as soon as His piercing gaze turned upon her.
He released the mace, pushing against it in an unexpected turn of force. The man was sent several paces by the force of the motion. She was slightly pushed away by the shield in her ally's arm, her face in horror as He simply reached down and removed the axe in a smooth motion, the awful sound and squelching of steel leaving a wound. there was little blood, but even that was dark, thick, and already congealing on the axe blade. It was not these factors that made her and her partner tremble in their boots, but the stare that He had locked on to her, dark, brooding, and above all, uncaring. it was just inhuman to see that the giant hadn't even flinched at the blow, nor when He removed the axe. He gripped the shaft of wood, encompassing it in His gigantic grip to the point that it looked like a bladed iron knuckle guard. She didn't even have to scream as he was suddenly in front of her, hand raised into a harsh fist.
Suddenly there was a pain in her chest, and she was at a loss for words, she looked down slowly, as if she was moving through a swamp. There, within the confines of her bosom, rested the axe head horizontally, the blade completely sunk into her ribcage to the point that the angle and pressure of the blow was squirting blood onto the axe handle. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, a soundless scream implanted upon her features as she slowly stumbled and toppled off the bridge, trying to clutch at the axe. She splashed into the water unceremoniously, joining the other corpse there as her blood filled and mingled with the orc's in the dark water.
There was no retaliation from the shield bearer for the death of his second comrade, only the sound of a weapon being thrown into the water and of iron boots clomping across wooden boards as he ran away from the Giant. There would be none of that. He reached back, gripping the wooden haft of the fallen war hammer in his open hand. Bringing it to bear with His own axe, He lunged across the bridge in three steps, closing the distance with the running bandit. The war hammer rose behind Him, and came in at a high angle. The hammer fell.
The man's leg snapped forward as he was sent onto his rear by the force of the swing, yelling out in pain. He landed heavily, but despite the pain, the man still managed to prop himself up on his arms, and was about to start backing away before the reverse swing of the hammer shattered his other knee cap. The yell was replaced with a roar, tears welling up in his eyes at the now, unfunctional legs, he looked up with blurry eyesight. The man saw the shine of the axe head despite the blood coating it, he already knew what was coming next, but still persisted, raising one of his arms and shaking it in a stopping gesture. "No, no, no, no!"
"Die in silence, Traitor." He spoke as the axe descended towards the man's neck. The exertion behind the blow caused the blade to completely sever the head, and implant it into the dirt floor. That final kill would not be tallied, for the man had run, leaving behind a noble death as his comrade's died. Cowards die in shame.
For him, it was a truth that could not be questioned. It was etched within Him, as much a part of him as his physical body, alongside the hate.
That hate was questionable however, there was a driving force behind it, more than a simple idea could ever produce. The memory was His, that was most assured, but where had it been and what fuel such a conflict against such creatures, was it better not to just avoid them? Because in the end, you cannot avoid the inevitable. And the human humans who fight alongside those of tusk and green skin? Those who do not stand with you, are an enemy to be crushed. Already has it been decided their names, a just one to those who betray their own species, whether in comradeship with xenos or for simple gain; Traitors
He had His answers.
He turned and sprinted, armed now with axe and hammer towards the drawbridge's entrance. The hallway around it was lit with a few torches, but nothing nearly enough to remove the shadows. The hallway itself was more of an open room., blocked off to a singular walkway due to a small cordon of wooden barricade wall and a pair of iron doors. One of the doors was the entrance to behind the barricade, where a table and chair reside, alongside a few cloth sacks, a rather large and embroidered chest, and a series of weapon racks. The door opposite however, was a mere blockage to a small coven in the stone wall, where a singular bedroll lay. The purpose of such a thing was clear, and thankfully there was no current occupant left to the hands of these brigands. He moved on, heading downwards and into the next area.
He was surprised, that was for sure.
The path opened up into a cavern, even larger than the last. He was in the back hand left side doorway, the main entrance, on an outcrop, framed by a rail and wooden walkway in front of Him a few feet ahead, that lead left and upwards to a second alcove with continuous railing, that lead to a small, single person bridged that crossed to a natural walkway on the opposite side of the room. At the end of the walkway lay an underground waterfall. To the left of His position it led downwards further to another level and yet another underground lake filled with shallow black water and a foot length mist of fog. The floor below was home to a large stone fire pit with a bellows and wooden mechanism attached; a forge. Both the room and the forge were occupied.
There were three bandits within, none on His current level, and none seemed reasonably armored. They all were armed in leathers and hides, the man occupying the forge didn't even have a shirt on, the heat being so intense. The two others, female alike were above, one upon the alcove, the other across the bridge. Both of the women were armed with bows and small sheaths at their sides for dirks or daggers, whereas the man was busy with the hot metal, but there was no doubt a weapon down there for him as well. The only threat that presented itself was the singular archer on the far side of the bridge, simply because there was no way to reach her. The bridge would most likely fail to support his weight, and the gap was too large to cross for even Him.
The path forward was laid out for Him.
He sprinted forward hard, His pace eating up the ground to the walkway in three large bounds, he raised the axe in his right hand silently, as soon as His foot hit the floorboards on the fourth step the axe reared back and by then they were very aware of His presence. Both of the archers made to un-sling their bows, shouts of alarm raising from them at the foe in their midst, the man at the forge dropping the heated bar of metal he was holding and reaching for a great sword on the table behind him. On the fifth step, He let go.
The axe was released from His hand with all the force of a hurricane, and spun a full six times before it collided with it's target. The throw was imperfect, and He could tell as soon as He released the axe. The weight of the axe was mostly in the head, but the length of the wooden shaft and leather bound handle evened some of the leverage out, making it somewhat miserable for throwing. Still, He had calculated the range correctly, and the axe landed head first in it's target, unfortunately, not due to a fault of His own, but by some perverse luck, the hand landed in the woman's shoulder from where she was drawing her bow instead of her chest. It was not a kill hit, but if the agonizing screams were anything to go by, then she had been thoroughly incapacitated.
He raised His shoulder and carried on, stomping up the ramp with a charge towards the other archer who had finally unslung her bow, alas, she found out that she was too late even as she instinctively reached for an arrow. In the narrow confines of the alcove walkway where she had stood, there was no room to dodge the near impossible speed of the charge from a four foot wide behemoth. As His forearm collided with her jaw, she was aloft, all of the speed carrying her as He led her head first into the stone wall three feet behind her previous position, and with a mighty slam, obliterating her skull. He lowered His now gore caked arm and turned about, prepared for the final bandit who was now attempting to charge up the ramp, war cry upon lips and great sword rearing back in mockery of His own precise and silent form. He strode thrice in return to intercept. The great sword reared up, and His foe's face twisted into a feral smile.
That blasphemous smile turned to unkept shock as His open hand caught the sword mid swing, by the blade itself.
The blade sunk into His palm, held away from his face, the tip a mere half foot away in the swing, and He returned the previous smile with His own. It was dark, showing perfect teeth that shined in the half light of the cavern. A singular drop of blood streaked away from His hand and coursed it's way down His wrist, but the blade did not move. The man began to tug, first slightly, and then wrenching backwards, attempting to remove the steel from an impossible mortal grip, His arms transfecting upon the hand as His pulls became more and more desperate. The bandit's eyes widened significantly as His gore stricken arm flexed, veins appearing and a sharp crack echoed from the center of His palm. The sword shattered as His hand fully clenched, the upper three feet of the blade falling away into the waters below as the bandit flew backwards from His exertions to remove the now broken blade. The blade nearly fell out of His hands as he landed at the bottom of the ramp, and he watched in horror as the Giant approached, His hand opened to inspection to find that the wound was already healing itself.
He leaned down as he approached the man, who feebly attempted to scramble backwards, picking him up by the shoulder with His hand. He looked into the man's eyes and inspected him. They were conflicted with emotions, but they were all of the same variety, an unhealthy balance of unbelief, of callousness, of hate, and most of all, present above all those, fear. Fear was the killer of men, and here it was most present. He did not bite back the slight frown of disgust that placed itself upon His features. He held the bandit out at arm's length, the war hammer held, underhanded rearing back behind His side. He swung forward, and as it sang forward, released the man onto it. The bandit flew, the war hammer carrying the man up by the chest until he smashed against the rocks above. He let the hammer fall, and the man fell with it with the grace of a bag of rocks, landing on the floor with a deep groan and several muffled crushing sounds. The bandit was unconscious, and soon enough, he would be dead. Seeing as there were no further enemies about, He turned about, and slung the hammer upon His shoulder.
He had traversed the cave in a clean sweep once more, checking for any bandits that may have fled or perhaps arrived after the combat. Though he frowned upon looting, feeling that such a thing was beneath Himself, it felt as if a dishonor to the dead, however, what renegade has honor in life? He began in the first cavern, the only thing worth taking was a rather small bag of coin alongside the skeletal remains of an unfortunate fellow who had been caught in a minor cave in. The journal that resides next to the decrypted body spoke of the figure being a captive of the bandits, used to toiling away in hopes of expanding their hideout. Nothing besides watered down alcohol remained in the alcove with the lever. He moved on into the hall with the barred store room.
Funnily enough, the iron door had been unlocked, most likely occupied by one of the bandit's that lie in the water. The table, while not exactly clean, was occupied by a book that was titled Clairvoyance alongside several coins and an iron dagger that was buried into the wooden boards. The coins were added to the pouch with a swiftness as he inspected the weapon racks, only to be met with a slight disappointment at their occupation of strictly one handed blades that would be ill fitted for His hands. The chest however was an entirely different problem.
It was large and heavy, coming up to His waist in height. It was heavily endowed with golden and copper livery, and had an ornate crest and lock set upon it. Unlike the door, it was still locked, and did not appear as if it had been opened in a long time. He kneeled over it, checking the seams and the lock for a simple way in, but the chest remained amazingly sealed tight, an impressive feet from what He had seen of this place. He did not wish to go fishing for keys among the bodies, so resolved the problem with a much more brutal approach. A solid kick, right to the side of the lock mechanism. If He had been a lesser man, His foot would have broken and He would have been hobbling away curses upon His lips. Instead, He merely grunted at the pain, and kneeled back down, to inspect the damage done. The chest had not opened fully, but it appeared that the lock mechanism had somewhat weakened, leaving the lid to crack and wobble with an inch of opening. It was enough for Him to gain a grip upon the inside and wretch it open with sounds of tearing metals, revealing an inner sanctum filled with riches.
The chest was filled with several hundred coins, alongside quite a few shining gems. Ancient scrolls were piled within, perhaps containing knowledge of this world, and amongst it all were two distinctive items. The first, was a handle, a very simple thing, made of glinting steel and polished wood about eight inches in length and one thick topped by a small six inch cross guard, and perforated on the bottom by a curved counter weight to frame the hand hold. It was a handle of astounding make, and all along it were ancient runes and scripture, a work of art in pristine form.
The other item was by no means dull in comparison. it was a double handed axe, made of a fine steel and a haft made of smooth pine wood, dressed up by leather strips from pommel to tip in leather strips, in a swirling symmetrical helix. The axe, unlike His previous one, was double sided, and with a much larger blade, larger than the length of His hand. It was held in a large leather brace, combined with a singular thick strap meant to be slung across one's back. With a few modifications like a buckle, He could more than likely make it into a belt holster. He left both items within the chest, and went about to the final cavern.
The forge area below was barren save for a few clumps of iron and some very shoddily made weapons that not even a merchant would sell, leaving the only thing of interest a small leather bound book that was inscribed Light Armor Smithing that found its way into His hands as he continued to search, heading to the alcove above. The alcove was not incredibly large, but it was divided, the first part of the room acting as a sort of kitchen or preparation area, if the hanging peasants, the keg of ale, the large pile of skinned hides and furs, and the small fire pit were anything were to go by. A table was occupied by several plates and bowls of wood, a few pieces of food residing upon it. The second part of the room, separated by a natural made door frame, led into a store room, the side wall was stacked high with crates and barrels upon wooden shelves. The far wall had been granted a singular table, with nothing but a few musty books, more gems and coins, alongside a singular bronze key. The coins and gems found their way into His side pouch, and the key was left into His hands, it was a simple, rather unremarkable, brass key. He held on to it as he walked out onto the walkway, when He noticed something a bit more important.
A small, rocky pathway leads behind the waterfall at the back of the room. He slowly traversed over the balustrade, and onto the jutting rock formations, testing the path way with one foot in front of the other, cautiously preparing for the inevitable shake and crumbling of the rocks as His massive frame set His weight about. But it never came, instead, He continuously traversed the path until he was directly behind the face of the waterfall, to find a small chest, a much more conservative, wooden version than the one in the other room. He looked down at the key within His hands, and with a shrug, inserted it. Miraculously, the key turned the lock and the chest groaned open, revealing a few more coins. He nodded, throwing the pouch upon His belt into the chest, before reclosing and locking it. He crouched down, removing it from it's mossy stone confinement, and put it upon His shoulder, creeping back amongst the path. He passed by the swordsman and the archer, gathering His broken sword and her dirk respectively, depositing them within the chest.
He returned to the store room, and passed the handle, axe, and the coins into the chest as well, garnering a healthy weight upon the already sizable load. He summarized a good four hundred lay accumulated within, a decent size no doubt. The book had found its way in there as well, but He knew, by no means, was he a smith. He picked it up, inspecting it again, before skimming through the pages. His attention was perked by the mention of hides as a visible means of clothing, while barbaric, could be very resistant against the elements, and inexpensive if one were to acquire the resources themselves. He thought back to the pile of hides in the cooking area, alongside what the archer and her sword wielding companion were wearing similar attempts of barbaric clothing. Those would suffice no doubt.
When He exited the cave, a full hour later, The chest upon His shoulder was well and truly fit to burst from it's contents. The moon was still high in the sky thankfully, leaving Him plenty of time to return to Riverwood. He moved at a slower pace than a full sprint, as to avoid making noise. He passed by the guards in the same manner as before, sliding the chest up first upon the wall and then climbing up after it. He slowed His place again and moved towards the house, making sure to minimize the rattle of the coins as he opened the still unlocked door, and moved inside it, making sure not to alert those sleeping within. A profitable night by no lesser means.