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The Forsworn Retribution	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 60895 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Blades of the Reach

The Forsworn Retribution
Part IX - "Crownless Kings"
By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson
Original Date Written: February 9, 2016

Nobody was around to notice the tent flaps ripple and sway, to hear the sounds of thrashing inside. Eventually, the night air went silent again, and the flaps went swinging open as Sabre came stumbling out. His eyes were glassy, dull. The new axe hanging at his side was kept in a white-knuckle grip, perspiration soaking the handle from the boiling heat of his palm. He simply stood there for several moments, keeping perfectly still in near-complete darkness, waiting, listening.

Mistress Sabrina’s desires were his needs. Her whims, his laws. She was the only other person, in his world. She was his everything. He could see her now, beautiful, terrible, eyes red like the blood she demanded, breasts heaving against her dress in the chance she had deigned to offer. His eyes slowly shifted around, in the gloom. His jaw rolled about, then began to hang. He could hear her, now. A voice without words, compelling him to commit the acts that would fulfill her wishes, flowed through his head like nectarous cream, echoing throughout his being. His head gave a little jerk to the side, then calmed.

He must comply. There was no other option. Not a single part of his subjugated brain could even imagine ignoring her dominating voice, let alone defying her. What she wanted overruled all else in creation. When Sabre heard the footsteps over towards his right side, his mouth immediately snapped shut, his foggy eyes darting over. He began walking towards them, making his way past a couple dark tents before rounding a corner, coming to a bit of a clearing at the northern edge of the encampment. His abrupt, rather quiet appearance startled the only other person there, who gave a light gasp of surprise.

The woman came to a quick stop, herself, briefly raising a hand to her chest, barely covered over by her pelt bra. “Spirits, you gave me a start. Who’s that? Sabre, that you? Oh, I thought you might’ve been William.” The realization that he’d look suspicious if he didn’t respond didn’t enter Sabre’s drained skull, right away. Luckily, the woman continued, giving him more time to remember how to interact with people who weren’t his new mistress. Dropping her hand from her chest, she had a cheeky little smirk on her face as she quietly said “We were supposed to meet up, here. I’ve been waitin’ for this chance for over a week, so if you don’t mind, could you be on your way?”

The look in Sabre’s eyes changed as the realization that he was required to speak filled his head. Raising his eyebrows, he spoke with convincing nonchalantness, commenting “Er, sorry, no can do. I have a meeting of my own to look forward to, and it looks like we picked the same spot.” The woman’s brow furrowed, but her smirk grew with playfulness. Cocking out a hip, grabbing it with a hand, she quietly said “No kidding? You got yourself a squeeze, Sabre? Huh! Didn’t think you had it in ya, pal. Who is it?

Sabre really needed to search his mind for a name, any name, that wasn’t Sabrina’s. Eventually, he muttered “...Phoebe.” The woman raised her eyebrows, her smirk stretching into a grin. Barely holding back her excitement, she managed to keep her voice to a hushed tone as she exclaimed “Phoebe Fat-Lips? Heh heh, yeah, I bet she’s fun to take a stroll with. You heard the rumour about her practicing on a horse, too, right? Good job landing her, Sabre.” The woman began walking past him, softly adding “Well, you have fun, friend. I’m gonna go find William and find another quiet spot, see you arou-”

He twisted around, swinging his axe out in a vicious arc. When the sharpened stone edge of the homemade blade crashed into the side of her skull, she didn’t even grunt. She simply collapsed into a limp heap, her hair already matted down in a large patch. Sabre didn’t stop there. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring with his frantic breathing, he stood over her, gripped his axe with both hands, brought it up, and sent it whipping back down in another merciless blow. It was hard work, separating her into as many segments as possible, but she patiently kept still as he did his duty. The messier, the better.

Of course, he knew the ruckus would alert others. After all, he was doing his work right behind somebody’s tent. People were bound to investigate. Even still, he got in a good couple minutes of work before someone in one of the nearby tents finally decided to check out what all the whacking was about. By then, Sabre was already soaked in sweat and wheezing. Despite the perspiration blurring his vision, he could see the figure lean around the corner, trying to make out what was happening in the dark. Sabre bared his teeth, breathing ragged through them as he kept swinging. Others were coming. Torchlight was closing in, behind the newcomer.

He wasn’t finished, yet. It would displease his mistress, dying before he had even completed his task. If he had any hope of feeling her naked, voluptuous body pressing up against him, he’d need to do better. He hefted up his axe once more, winding up a wild blow as he raced over. The figure shouted an alarm, stumbling back a few steps at the unnerving sight of an unknown figure running headlong towards him, in the dark. Sabre had no hesitation. With reckless abandon, he flailed his arm out, burying the edge of his axe into the young man’s forehead just as the torchlight came close enough to expose him.

There he was, wild-eyed and spattered with red from head to toe, tearing his axe back out of the felled man’s brainpan. William, face stunned, pointed with his torch, shouting at the top of his lungs “Sabre’s gone mad!” As Sabre charged him, he could see the realization dawn on the man’s face: his lover should’ve been here, already. Rage overtook him. As Sabre swung for him, he desperately thrust out his torch, shoving it against the man’s fur tunic. It was a futile act of defiance. All it did was char the fur a little, while the edge of Sabre’s axe bit into his shoulder in a bone-crunching blow.

It was simple for Sabre to tear the torch out of the man’s hand, especially so while he was busy trying to yank the axe back out of his shoulder. Whooping, hollering, Sabre ran back to the woman’s many bits of corpse, then shoved the torch against the tent nearest her, holding it there until it was alight. He could hear his former friends and family member mobilize to bring about his death, the alert rippling through the camp as more and more people reacted. One of their own had lost his mind.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care. They were nothing. All that mattered now was his mistress, and the sounds she would make as they did horrible, unspeakable things to each other. He just needed to please her, and rousing this rabble would gain her favour. He set fire to another tent, then another, all while the others chased the glow of his torch. Someone rounded the far end of the row of tents, doing their best to tackle into him. Sabre wove to the side, avoiding the grab, retaliating by ramping up his efforts. Now, he foolishly held his arm out at his side, extending the torch as he dragged it across the rear sides of the tents, threatening to douse it with so many things brushing against it.

He rounded the corner, putting the sparring area behind him, laughing breathlessly like a child as he left a sparse trail of flame behind him. Another shadow stepped out into the open, further ahead. Sabre was too drunk on the potential for Sabrina’s approval to care. Sabre didn’t see them hold up their bow until they were already loosing the first arrow. The force of the shaft biting into his abdomen jerked his hips back, but didn’t stop his charge. The second arrow hit his chest, and with some confusion, he registered a newfound difficulty breathing.

A third arrowhead pierced into his sternum, and he found himself slowing down. Every exhale became a cough, and blood quickly escaped on his breath. He could hear her annoyed growl as she notched a forth arrow, landing it into his stomach after barely a moment of aiming. Finally, the strength left his legs, and he simply collapsed, dropping hard to his hands and knees. The torch rolled away from him, flickering, igniting the ends of a few blades of grass like miniature candles. Sabre gave a few harsh, wet coughs, one hand fumbling at the wooden shafts jutting from his flesh. He couldn’t fail, not like this! His mistress would be so displeased - she’d abandon him!

He reached out for the torch, groping at the grass. The rest of his pursuers caught up with him, their footsteps pounding into the earth with how hard they were racing. One grabbed the torch, keeping it out of his grasp, while another grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to get up in a proper kneel. The illumination bloomed as the torch came away from the smothering ground, exposing in full Sabre’s ultimate deterrent. The silver-haired woman, half her face, throat, and shoulder a horrific, wavy pink scar, was notching one last arrow on her drawstring, aiming for somewhere soft on his face. Sabre just sat there, deaf to everything they shouted and accused, blind to their menacing snarls. He’d never get to experience what it was like in Sabrina’s tender, loving embrace, now. Moira let the arrow go with a snap of the drawstring, and then it was over.

Sabrina knew, even from a distance, that her thrall had perished. He had done a...Serviceable job, but that was about as far as her praise would’ve ever gone. He had succeeded in drawing a good deal of the more alert camp denizens to the far northern edge, but she had, perhaps optimistically, been expecting him to set half the camp ablaze. Unfortunately for Sabre, there was only ever one man whom Sabrina was interested in sharing her bed with, and that man didn’t happen to be one of the natives. Furthermore, she wasn’t about to make an exception if she needed to finish the task he had been assigned to, herself, and do the job properly. Oblivion take him - the tool had served his purpose.

Sabrina stood overtop a small boulder, barely peeking out from the earthen embrace of the mountain’s cold soil, just slightly outside a stone’s throw of distance from the camp. Her silhouette transparent thanks to an application of Chameleon, a less rigid, more accommodating sister spell to Invisibility, she stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, hands lightly raised before her. The others were still silently moving into position, but for better or worse, their attack had started. They couldn’t afford not to take advantage of Sabre’s disruption. Sabrina simply intended to do a better job at creating chaos, and hopefully strike some fear into their hearts as they awaken to find their tents burning down around their heads.

Flame erupted in her palms, licking around her fingers in hungry tongues. She clenched her hands into fists, agitating the Magicka, amplifying and concentrating it into a useable spell. She barely thrust out her arms as she opened her hands, allowing the flame to leave her skin, expanding into sizeable fireballs as they flew from her palms. The twin fireballs travelled in arcs through the black night air, their point of origin unseen in the darkness, passing far over the camp until they had descended low enough to strike their targets, crashing into two tents with violent eruptions that instantly set them ablaze.

Sabrina launched another two, immediately after. Her targets were random as she peppered the encampment with explosions, and she didn’t stop until the warm glow of hellfire filled the night sky. She watched as the Forsworn scattered like skeever, grinning to herself at the shouting and screaming. The vast majority of them were arming themselves for battle, still uncoordinated in the midst of the confusion and anarchy. Some, however, were struggling to douse the fires threatening to swallow their homes, but spare water on hand was scarce. Still others were trying to drag people caught inside their tents from the flames, often with limited success. Injuries were unavoidable.

It was intoxicating, the reddish fogs of their life forces darting around against the shadows and smoke. There were so many of them, Sabrina couldn’t help grinning with excitement, drunk on the thrill of inflicting large-scale destruction. There were even more of them than had been at Red Eagle, and this time, they didn’t have another band of mercenaries to team up with. She hadn’t been in a battle of this scale in two entire centuries! When a small group of like-minded individuals near enough to the southern end of the encampment to get an idea of her location decided to charge and face their unseen assailant head-on, Sabrina brought her hands together before her chest, the flames around her hands shifting to violently waving electricity.

When Sabrina thrust her arms out and let loose the Chain Lightning spell, the accompanying thunderclap was an ear-popping eruption. Of the five who had charged outside of the camp, coming within enough distance of Sabrina to actually see the blue light of her electricity bending impossibly around her transparent form, the one directly struck was slain instantly, while the rest were either knocked to all fours or sent sprawling.

The crackling electricity arcing between her fingers became a cold, swirling mist, which Sabrina quickly used to finish them off, with. Twice, she thrust out both arms simultaneously, each time launching an enormous pair of Ice Spears. The massive lances of pure, crystalline ice impaled the four remaining Forsworn with such force that they were pinned to the dirt, their bodies left at awkward angles, stuck in uncomfortable positions.

Maximus, Anya, Svetlana, and Gabriella weren’t far from Sabrina’s position, having opted for a slightly more northeastern spot to attack from. With Bunny at the other corner of the encampment, taking aim from the southwest, the entire southern front was accounted for, allowing them more time to thin the ranks after the distraction had drawn most of the more excitable Bretons to the northern side. As they hurried through the dark, Svetlana took the opportunity to bestow upon them blessings, steeling them for the trials ahead. Calling upon her prowess in Restoration, she imbued Maximus with greater strength, filling him with more natural energy to fuel his swings.

For Anya, she blessed the woman with greater endurance, giving her the fortitude she’d need to keep standing after even the harshest of blows. Finally, she blessed Gabriella with greater agility, allowing her steps to be quicker, her leaps more dextrous. Max glanced over and checked the situation. Sabrina had already caused so much destruction, it didn’t look like Bunny would require the nearby immense bonfire in order to see her targets. Sabrina had spread so much flame from north to south, the entire place was glowing like a candle. Unfortunately, being so close to the residential area, as it were, meant she was directly next to the hornet’s nest as it was given a resounding punt.

Max and Gabby looked at each other, crouching across from each other in the little square the four of them formed. They both had the same thing on their minds. As she was leaning in, he was already reaching out. He took her by the back of her head, holding her close in a deep, passionate kiss. Anya and Svetlana could see their tongues entwining between their lips for hardly a moment before they were releasing each other, pulling free the vials of poison Bunny had provided. Anya was quick to follow suit, joining them in smearing their respective concoctions across the blades of their weapons. Svetlana thought to ask for a good luck kiss of her own, but didn’t go through with the words. Perhaps, she thought, she would’ve been intruding.

Max and Gabby met eyes, again, even as footsteps began to pound in their direction. “Good luck,” he offered. “Watch your back,” she answered. Keeping to a crouching run, she turned and took off, keeping beyond the perimeter of the fire’s glow as she separated herself from the group. Maximus gave Anya a hard, resolute look. Anya gazed back, breathing heavy with anticipation. The message behind his stare was clear, to her: “No time like the present, elf.” He stood up, turned, and jogged out into the light, entering the open just as another disorganized mob made for Sabrina’s location. Anya didn’t hesitate. She clenched her jaw and did the same, standing up before chasing after him, following her superior officer into the fray.

Bunny, positioned apart from the others, watched the assault begin. Crouching in a grassy patch by a Juniper tree, Glass bow held at the ready, she observed as Sabrina exacerbated the confusion Sabre had started, then executed the first small batch of resistance that came her way. The sorceress might need a minute to rest after so many powerful spells, but now, out came Maximus and Anya, racing to intercept another small group of looters and pillagers come to deal with the semi-invisible assailant. For a few seconds, Bunny’s stomach twisted with discomfort. Something felt off, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was.

Maybe she had expected things to start off more disastrously. The clan was several dozen strong. Wouldn’t a more organized resistance be formed, almost immediately? She reached over her shoulder, pulling open the clasp on the tiny alchemist’s satchel she wore, tightly slung over her shoulder. Reaching in, she pulled out her vial of poison, clasped the satchel back shut, and carefully set the vial on the ground before her, ready for her the instant she’d need it. She drew a homemade arrow from her quiver, one of multiple she had been able to fashion during her earlier excursion away from the group. She aimed down the length of the arrow, eyes wide and unblinking as she watched.

Maximus rushed into the light, brazenly putting himself directly in the path of another four Forsworn determined enough to deduce Sabrina’s location. He could tell by the looks on their faces that they hadn’t been expecting a melee combatant to rush out and face the lot of them, but it only gave them pause for a single second before one of them shouted “For the Reach!” As the two on the sides spread out to flank Max, one of the center ones raced forwards, one axe held over his shoulder, the man giving a brief yell as he wound up the brash attack. Max gave a small hop backwards, avoiding the heavy blow, but before he could retort, the woman trying to flank his right side darted forward, covering for her fellow with a swing of her own.

Max managed to pull himself out of the way, but in doing so, he ended up bringing himself closer to the man at his left. The other flanking Forsworn, grinning, thrust out his crudely made sword, piercing the long, narrow tip straight into Max’s biceps, all but disabling the arm as he tore his sword out to the side. Before anyone else could attack him, Anya had joined the fray, her platemail clanging as she ran in. She came up to the woman flanking Max’s right while she was still recovering from her swing, bringing her Forsworn axe down for the woman’s skull. The Breton, eyes wide with desperation at the sudden disadvantage, tried to pull her head out of the way, but Anya was quicker.

Brow furrowed, eyes wide, Anya crushed the axe’s blade into the back of the woman’s head, sending her down to the dirt in a heap. Although it was surely a mortal wound, the one who had tried to charge Max still went to her rescue, wildly swinging his axes over in an extremely undisciplined, simultaneous attack. The axes connected with Anya’s breastplate, and while the blunt kinetic force blowing into her ribs couldn’t have been pleasant, the stone blades of the homemade axes didn’t even dent the metal. As his axes scratched across the Moonstone, Anya bared her teeth in anger, answering the man by slamming her axe over until it found purchase in his waist.

Svetlana, hands awash with the golden, chiming aura of Restoration Magicka, brought them close together over her chest, then lightly thrust them out with a faint exhale of exertion. A golden sphere of wispy, almost gaseous Magicka flew out at a fairly brisk pace, hitting Maximus over the back shortly after his injury. She smiled as she watched his arm quickly become useable once more, but the smile swiftly vanished when she noticed even more Forsworn rushing out into the open, spotting the interlopers, and running over, obviously intent on swarming Max and Anya. When she spotted the archers, her eyes widened with panic.

The pain in his arm disappearing as a brief, swirling aura of gold surrounded him, Max gave a harsh swing for the man who had injured him. The man tried to parry, hoping to catch the edge of Max’s sword inside the serrated teeth lining the middle of the blade, but Max’s force was greater. Instead of catching Max’s sword, Max caught his, his swipe hardly faltering as he smashed the sword’s handle straight out of the Forsworn’s grip. Poor form, Breton. How could he let some self-taught Imperial disarm him, like that?

The fourth man, still hanging back, unsure of his openings, briefly went tense as an arrow punctured his neck. Tasting blood, eyes confused, he stumbled, then fell. Max, breathing heavy, stepped in, grabbing his quarry’s shoulder to keep his steady as he plunged his sword into his unprotected abdomen, running him through in one clean thrust. The man utterly deflated as the air was ripped from his lungs, wheezing against Max’s shoulder before he pulled his sword free, allowing the man to collapse face-first into the grass. He glanced over and spotted Anya finish off her own opponent, tearing her axe free from his stomach harshly enough that his innards were at risk of spilling free.

The man feebly tried swinging one of his axes into Anya’s skull, but she moved first, cleaving her own into the side of his neck at a diagonal angle. His legs gave out from under him, nearly tearing the axe from Anya’s grasp as he fell. Anya looked up at the rest of the camp as she planted her sabaton against the kneeling man’s chest, tearing the axe from his flesh as she kicked him down to his back. Another group of Forsworn were rushing to face them, and it was clear to see, based on their equipment, that Sabre and Sabrina’s distraction had worn off. These must’ve been some of the more prepared fighters, ready for combat at a moment’s notice. If not for the flames, this lot would’ve been with the first few packs of resistance, which would’ve easily made for overwhelming numbers.

Out of the nine, three of them, two men and a woman, actually wore more than mere animal pelts for armour. The three of them wore iron breastplates of somewhat crude, yet entirely serviceable, craftsmanship, while one of them gripped a steel axe shaped in the traditional Nordic style. Another four were archers, one was a rather standard combatant with a sword and the typical pelt armour, and the last one was a Frost Maiden, the frigid mist of Ice Magicka unmistakable as it slowly drifted off of her hands. When the first volley of arrows came, Anya simply stood there, unshaken as two of the arrows simply shattered against her chest.

Svetlana came to such a quick stop by Max’s side, she nearly tripped and fell over her robe. She shoved her arms in front of him just in time for the other two arrows to come for him, allowing her Ward, sustained between her two hands, to shield them both. One arrow was deflected and slid off to the side, while the second broke in two, the shaft cracking apart against the protective Magicka. At the sight of the archers and Frost Maiden, Bunny, Sabrina, and Gabriella all knew they’d need to act fast. There were already enough melee combatants to outnumber Max and Anya, but with more than enough archers, and even a mage, to provide pressure from afar, they each knew they needed to intervene, and fast, before even more came to repel them.

Sabrina’s Chameleon spell wore off shortly after she had stepped down from her roost, expression resolute. The rush of bloodlust had passed, and now, her mind could more easily focus on her responsibilities. Fearlessly striding towards the thick of combat, her hands momentarily came together before her bosom, her Alteration spell taking form as a cyan block between her palms. When she gave a controlled sweep apart with her arms, the block burst, the light spreading before coalescing about her silhouette in an aura. Brow furrowing, she briefly extended an arm up above her head, creating a pink mist that swirled about her body before fading. With Ebonyflesh and Spell Absorption working in tandem, she was prepared for anything.

The first thing she did was finish off the two people Max and Anya hadn’t, a task she was sure to keep brief. Although the two Forsworn had been mortally wounded, they both clung to life, and could’ve been resuscitated...Or, reached for their weapons once more in a desperate bid to eliminate their sworn enemies, the despised occupiers of their independent kingdom. Hands joining together in a quick, focused application of Thunderbolt, Sabrina lightly thrust her hands out, firing an explosive blast of electricity into the woman whose skull Anya had cracked. The stunning force of the miniature lightning bolt was strong enough to send the woman flipping over her side, to say nothing of the current igniting her clothing as it erupted through her body, jolting straight into the dirt.

She did the same to the man Maximus had ran through on his sword, charring the man’s skin as he slid a foot across the grass. Running low on Magicka, Sabrina decided that the best thing she could offer the others while she regained her strength was another melee combatant to even the playing field. With only the Magicka to summon a single decently competent creature, Sabrina again brought a hand up, a fatigued grimace on her face as the purple-black light pushed out between her fingers. When she thrust her arm out towards Max’s side, a matching eruption of light appeared, briefly swirling around in a violent lightshow before a rather large shape began to take form, materializing from the planes of Oblivion.

Svetlana deflected another volley of arrows with her Ward, this time coming from all four archers at once. Sweat was already making her brow shine - putting her all into this Ward, concentrating it with both hands as dual channels for extra strength, was quickly draining her. Max hissed “Keep your distance!” just before Sabrina’s Conjuration came into effect. The eruption of light couldn’t help but draw everyone’s eyes, and what was left in it’s wake uncontrollably drew the enemy’s attention. Standing at easily over six feet tall was, to the uninformed, something that looked like a horrifically overgrown monstrosity from the heart of Blackmarsh.

For all intents and purposes, the Daedroth looked like an oversized crocodile standing upright, it’s beefy, powerful frame covered in a thick, rough hide of serpent-like scales. It’s immense hands ending in a set of intimidatingly large claws, the creature’s beady little red eyes dimly locking on the nearest prey, the creature gave a yawn with it’s long maw, standing more upright as it gave a swish with it’s thick, lengthy tail. Now closer to seven feet tall, the Daedroth started making it’s way towards the Forsworn with a steady, lumbering gait, massive feet vibrating the ground as they pounded against the earth.

Meanwhile, Bunny was frantically tearing the cork out of her poison vial, holding it steady as she pulled an arrow free from her quiver. Sticking the arrowhead inside the vial, she notched the other end against her drawstring, heart pounding in her ears as she took aim. She had the Frost Maiden in her sights for not even a moment before Sabrina’s Daedroth came into life, completely blocking Bunny’s line of sight. Bunny bared her teeth, growling in agitation. She needed to wait precious moments before the Daedroth began to move, opening up her line of sight. The Breton held her breath, then released the arrow.

Maximus had to smile at the Daedroth. Svetlana was quick to separate herself, but the Frost Maiden had none of it. Taking charge, the Frost Maiden shouted “Focus on the healer!” before throwing out an enormous pair of ice spikes, one from each hand. As the four archers drew arrows from their quivers, Gabriella struck. A dark figure quickly rushed up behind the archer furthest to the left, just across from the Daedroth. The young man never had a clue that she was there until it was much, much too late.

The Dunmer was merciless, raising one Elven dagger over the back of his neck for a split-second before slamming it down, punching her knife into his spine. The other arm went over his shoulder even as he was still going rigid, brutally slicing into his throat as it whipped from one side to the other, setting free a small waterfall of red as she opened his precious arteries. As he went limp and collapsed, her dagger simply came free from the back of his neck, painted crimson in victory. Her expression was stony, cold. He hadn’t even had a chance to defend himself, and that suited her perfectly fine.

In all the chaos, the four melee fighters didn’t even realize that one of the enemy had appeared behind them, leaving the archers and Frost Maiden easy pickings for Gabriella. Even if they had, they probably would’ve considered the Daedroth and two enemy soldiers more of a threat than a lone fool with toothpicks for weapons. The four of them tried circling the Daedroth, but Max and Anya were quick to come to the creature’s aid, bringing up it’s flanks. The Frost Maiden tried shouting, again, for the rest to focus on Svetlana, but she cut herself off with a grunt as an arrow abruptly pierced her abdomen.

The Frost Maiden looked downwards, in surprise. A wooden shaft of peculiarly familiar craftsmanship jutted from her skin, buried deep into her stomach. She looked back up, her stomach feeling hollow as her veins turned to ice. The intrusion into her mid section made her want to double over, but she managed to remain upright, albeit with considerably quicker breathing. Her hearing seemed to fade as her eyes locked on Svetlana’s form, keeping her distance. The Frost Maiden bared her teeth, icy mist billowing off of her fist as she raised it by her face.

Even as her vision blurred, she could still see Svetlana well enough to launch Ice Spears. The first went out like an enormous lance of solid glass, flying in Svetlana’s direction quickly enough to make the woman cry out in surprise. Svetlana barely raised her hand in time to get her Ward going, but she didn’t have enough time to charge it to full strength before the Frost Maiden’s javelin was crashing into her, only partially shattering against the incomplete Ward. The remaining two-thirds of the Ice Spear overpowered the Ward and bashed into the left side of Svetlana’s chest with bone-crushing force, then exploded into splinters of ice, erupting against her body like shrapnel.

Svetlana collapsed. The Frost Maiden grinned, charging up another Ice Spear. One more, unobstructed would easily finish off the downed priestess. As she threw it, a second figure appeared out of the darkness, coming between the two. The Frost Maiden’s foggy eyes widened. When her Ice Spear struck this other woman’s chest, the entire spell simply vanished in a puff of pink smoke, the woman’s skin seemingly swallowing whole the Ice Spear in the blink of an eye. Instantly, the vampire’s pools of Magicka flooded with a resurgence. Sabrina couldn’t deny a small smirk. It hadn’t been a particularly big gamble, but it had paid off, nonetheless.

Even had her Spell Absorption cloak not reduced the spell to consumable Magicka for her to revitalize herself with, as a vampire, it naturally wouldn’t have done much to harm to her, anyway. However, eliminating the Magicka aspect wouldn’t have removed the fact that being physically struck over the chest by something of that size, moving at that speed, could’ve been lethal, even for her. Still, it had been a risk she had been willing to take. The Frost Maiden, eyes wide in confusion, stared and panted as she tried a different spell. This time, instead of an Ice Spear, she threw out a miniature blizzard, with arctic winds swirling around in about a meter’s worth of space, blasting around tiny shards of ice and frostbite-inducing powdery snow.

Sabrina stood her ground, priming one bare foot against the ground behind herself, steadying herself for the incoming spell as she prepared her retaliation. The Frost Maiden watched as her tiny ice storm struck Sabrina, causing her cyan aura to blow off bits of light as it helped absorb the brunt of the spell’s effects. The rest, Sabrina’s inborn resistance took care of, her dress hardly covering over in frost as the blizzard passed around and behind her. Svetlana’s prone form was passed over by the miniature blizzard, but she, too, seemed largely unfazed by it, considering she began to sit upright a moment later. The Frost Maiden stuck out her arm and pointed at Sabrina, ordering the archers to finish her off, but when she looked over at her allies, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

Gabriella had darted up to the second archer, repeatedly stabbing him in the stomach with both daggers, one after the other, puncturing his innards with smooth jabs. As he fell and she moved in for the next one, the third archer tried taking a swing at her, desperately tossing out a wild hook for her face. Gabriella moved like water, ducking her head down while still moving in, bobbing her head back up by the outside of his arm, his fist having passed harmlessly over her shoulder. Teeth bared in rage, she smashed one dagger down into his arm, anchoring herself to him, preventing him from escaping before her second dagger could pierce the side of his skull.

The fourth and final archer, waiting for her, fired his notched arrow. With Gabriella still attached to her last victim, she couldn’t hope to dodge the arrow. Her face twisted up in pain as it bit through her leather armour and into her stomach, near the side of her waist. Once she had pulled her daggers free from the falling corpse of the other archer, she moved in for the last, but to her surprise, he threw his bow down to the grass, curling his lip up at her with eyes ablaze in rage. With both hands, he waved her in closer, widening his stance. The challenge nearly had her seeing red, but she managed to maintain her composure.

The Frost Maiden stumbled back, a few steps, as a second arrow bit into her chest, jutting up from the bottom of her peripheral vision. The Daedroth had already finished off one of the melee fighters - the unarmoured one had taken a swipe from the creature, which had ended up with one of his arms being severed between the shoulder and elbow. Ignoring the other three melee combatants, the Daedroth had leapt over and raked both hands across the downed man’s head and torso, the resulting mutilations swiftly bleeding him dry. Max and Anya traded blows with the three Forsworn wearing breastplates, standing their ground, refusing to give an inch as they looked for openings in the enemy’s defence.

The Frost Maiden didn’t even realize that her spirit was crushed. This wasn’t a battle the bunch of them could win, clearly. They needed the rest of the clan, now! She turned to flee, trying to throw a Frost Atronach behind herself to cover her escape, but she couldn’t find the strength to muster up the summoning, not with Bunny’s poison coursing through her veins. With nothing to protect her exposed back, Sabrina’s Thunderbolt struck her near her spine, charring her skin into twisted, wavy patterns before her carcass had even hit the dirt.

Svetlana was the first to notice the changing tide. One eye blinded by blood, she sat there, casting Close Wounds on herself over and over again to try and get herself back into fighting shape. As Sabrina finished off the Frost Maiden, however, she noticed a glow abruptly appear out of her peripheral vision, not too far in the distance. At first, she thought it was no different from the fires now threatening to consume the encampment, but even in her groggy state, she thought it odd that the red glow had appeared to simply pop into vivid life, out of thin air. When she looked up, it took her a moment to register it, but she eventually realized that the unusual flame was in the shape of a man.

The figure’s arms began to shift, briefly going out to the sides before drawing back in. All at once, Svetlana understood. Her blood ran cold as she fought to stand up. She shouted as loudly as she could, yelling “Look out! Sun Eater!” Maximus’ entire team looked over in the direction of Sun Eater’s tent, elevated along the eastern edge of the camp. The figure in the distance, like a man made of pure flame with an inferno swirling about his person, abruptly swung his arms together, narrowing his bright body. A bright sphere of light, like a star falling from Aetherius, ripped through the air towards the skirmishers, rocketing towards the greatest threat observed.

At first, it wasn’t particularly clear to most of the combatants who the fireball had been aimed at, but to said target, it was as clear as daybreak. At the sight of the immense flame heading straight for her, a deep, instinctual fear gripped Sabrina’s heart. Her mouth eased open, a crack, as her pupils shrank to pinpricks, the vampire momentarily locking up like a deer realizing it’s been stalked by a hunter. She backed up as quickly as she could, too terrified to turn her back on Sun Eater and try to flee. Max watched the fireball zoom past the melee fighters, mere feet above their heads. When he realized where it was headed, he shouted for Sabrina to run.

She finally turned and tried to bolt, but by then, it was far too late. When the fireball struck the ground, maybe a meter away from the vampire, it erupted, exploding outwards in tongues of flame. Her back to the flames, Sabrina covered her head by instinct, dropping to her knees as the explosion struck her rear side. Max had to squint at the sudden burst of light, and when one of the Forsworn slammed his axe down against his shoulder, he was forced to turn his attention back to the fight. Sabrina was screaming. He had never heard her like that, before - terrified, panicking. It took a great deal of determination not to separate himself and check on her, but he wasn’t about to abandon Anya in the middle of a fight.

Svetlana got up to her feet, rushing over to Sabrina as quickly as she could. Sabrina’s Ebonyflesh spell was trying in vain to cope with the Magicka, causing cyan sparkles and bits of light to waft off of her entire body. The vampire’s back was alight with flame, something she quickly tried to extinguish by rolling over, gyrating in a mindless bid to slam her shoulder blades against the dirt. Whimpering, screaming, she looked down at her legs. Her stockings were on fire, causing flame to eat at her feet, visibly spreading up her calves like her flesh was little more than papyrus.

Out of desperation, Svetlana prepared an application of Heal Other, not remembering in the heat of the moment that her Restoration would have a limited effect on an undead being. Before she could waste the Magicka, Sabrina took matters into her own hands. Kicking her legs against the ground, she thrust an arm down across her body, her hand opened wide as a gout of Frost erupted from her palm, billowing down past her legs like an arctic breeze. The flames were swiftly doused, and Sabrina’s screaming died down to harsh, whimpering breaths, tears in her eyes as she breathed ragged. Svetlana tried to help her up, but Sabrina seemed too out of it to even realize she was there, forcing herself up to her feet on her own.

The archer whom Gabriella was attempting to finish off took advantage of the momentary distraction. Pulling an arrow from his quiver, he attempted to use it like a long, slender dagger, gripping it halfway along the shaft before jabbing the arrowhead against her stomach. The surprise attack managed to puncture her leather armour, but it could only bite a couple inches into her flesh before his fist impacted with her stomach. Giving a grunt at the pain, Gabriella looked back over at him and swung a dagger down for the soft spot between the base of his neck and his left collar bone. The man deftly leaned back and out of the way, avoiding the harsh blow for a more manageable slash across his chest.

Over the din of roaring flames, they all heard a man’s voice boom out, coming across the encampment in a firm, authoritative shout. “Forswooorn! The occupiers have come! Ignore the flames, take up sword and axe! They strike from the south! Overwhelm them, they don’t even number a full score! Bring me their heads!” Bunny was already dipping an arrow into her poison as he spoke. Brow furrowed deep, jaw clenched tight, the young Breton notched the arrow on her drawstring, pulled it back as tight as she could, and aimed at the flaming figure on the distance. She held it for a few seconds, simply staring at him, listening to him until he finished. It took her a moment, but she finally let the arrow fly.

It whipped through the air in Sun Eater’s direction, screaming towards him like a descending eagle, and shot right past his face. Bunny’s breath caught in her throat. She had missed? No. What? But how? She had missed! She could just barely make out the twist in Sun Eater’s shoulders. Her eyes slowly began to widen. He was looking right at her. But, he couldn’t see her, right? She was in complete darkness! Oh, what foolishness was she thinking? It didn’t matter, she had given herself away, anyway.

She already knew what he was about to do before he had even opened his mouth. He raised an arm, pointing in her general direction. “Archer in the hills, separated from the rest! Kill them!” Her father’s roar for her head rattled her, making her hands tremble as she tore another arrow from her quiver. Holding her poison vial as steady as she could, she nonetheless missed with her arrowhead, pricking her hand a few times before she finally managed to get the arrow inside. As she notched the arrow on her drawstring, she looked up and, to her horror, realized that he was already gone. Was he coming for her, himself?

Max, Anya, and Sabrina’s Daedroth did their best to handle the three Forsworn in breastplates, but with legitimate armour protecting their center mass, Max and Anya didn’t have as much ease at dispatching them as their brethren. That mattered little to the Daedroth, whose powerful swings and razor-sharp claws could likely cleave through iron like a hot knife through butter, but even with a breastplate weighing her down, the Daedroth’s chosen opponent was agile enough - or perhaps lucky enough - to avoid the bulky creature’s limb-cleaving swipes.

Inevitably, the woman had simply outwaited the summoning, and the Daedroth vanished with a crackle of purple electricity shortly after collapsing. Now, it was just Max and Anya facing the three of them, outnumbered and without clear aid. However, little did the Forsworn know, the two of them were playing a waiting game of their own; the men that had been trading blows with Max and Anya quickly found themselves bizarrely exhausted, a condition that seemed aggravated simply by holding up their weapons. The poison coating Max’s sword and Anya’s axe had worked it’s way into the men through the slashes and bashes they had thus far endured, and if either of them realized what was happening to them, it didn’t discourage them from battle.

Gabriella had the same fortune. The tenacious archer she was facing began to tremble, a condition which quickly escalated into uncontrollable convulsing. Gabriella could see the fight leaving the man as he, alone against her, steadily lost his ability to defend himself. Fearful for his life, he tried mounting a wild offensive to keep her at bay, hoping to buy himself time to overcome the poison eating away at him from inside. Instead, he simply opened himself up for counterattack. As he threw out wild haymaker after hammer punch, putting his heart under more and more stress, Gabby avoided, dodged, and finally struck, whipping in close like a serpent.

Curling her lip up, frustrated that this one man had taken so much time and effort to finish off when the other archers had been child’s play, she punched one dagger into his clavicle, then jabbed the other into his temple, ignoring the droplets that struck her face as a result. Using the knife in his chest for grip, she pulled him closer towards herself, toppling him over towards his front side. She wasn’t finished with him yet, however. Even though she had already dealt him a fatal injury, as well as a rather ugly disfigurement, judging by the way his eyeball bulged from the socket she had stabbed into, she gave him another heartless stab over the crown of his skull, ensuring his quick passage to the beyond.

As he collapsed in a heavy heap, she refused to let go of her daggers, forcing her to go down with him. Svetlana, who had by then healed herself enough to eliminate the ice shards scattered across her body, left Sabrina to recover and fearlessly ran deeper into the conflict, making her way to Max and Anya. On the way, she grabbed the discarded axe of one of the dead, making sure she took it on her good side, rather than the one affected by her still-broken ribs. Feeling like she could barely breathe thanks to her damaged rib cage, she was nevertheless prepared to throw herself into the fight and even the odds for her friends.

Maximus could hear the rest of the clan approaching them in one small, condensed horde, no doubt arming themselves as best they could before dealing with the interlopers. He and his soldiers had had a strong start, so far, but compared to what was to come, this had just been a skirmish. Even with these few dead, they had only succeeded in thinning the clan’s numbers, a little. Every man, woman, and child were now mobilizing to slay the six of them. If Straight and her band of hunters brought up the south flank, they’d be completely surrounded. There’d be no escape. Death would be inevitable.

“Kill them before the rest arrive!” Max shouted, deflecting his opponent’s axe with a hard swipe of his steel sword. Anya, her opponent sweating profusely with exertion as he desperately tried to deflect her axe swings, never relented, brutalizing the man with harsh blows from every which way, keeping him permanently on the defensive. Eventually, the man was broken. Hyperventilating, he slowed down until he just couldn’t raise his axe to block her’s, anymore. His sister-in-arms, the third pillager in a breastplate, tried to distract Anya and protect him, but the woman’s sword merely scraped across Anya’s pauldron and gauntlet, hardly dissuading the Altmer soldier from her target.

With a steady hand and sure purpose, Anya gave the man his coup de grace. The weight of the axe’s heavy stone blade rammed into the side of his jaw hard enough to split skin and separate bone, raising up a sickening crunch. One side of his jaw was knocked free, causing the other side to twist at an unhealthy angle, the freed side hanging limply by his throat. The man’s mouth grotesquely torn open on one side, blood gushing down his chest, the Breton stumbled to the side, then fell with a heavy thud. The woman, clearly enraged, tried to do the same to Anya, hoping to bury the jagged center of her sword into the soldier’s mouth.

Instead, Svetlana came charging in from behind Anya, doing a considerably better job of protecting her ally than the Forsworn woman had. Shouting furiously, Svetlana swung her new axe down in a vicious arc, slamming the homemade weapon into the woman’s elbow so hard that she shattered the woman’s bones, rendering that arm entirely useless. The woman gave a short scream of pain, but managed to keep her hold on her weapon long enough to grab it with her other hand, allowing her to keep attacking as her broken limb hung limply at her side. She swung in wide, controlled movements, trying not to leave herself open as she kept the two at bay.

When an arrow whistled out of the darkness and struck the woman over the center of her chest, her torso briefly jerked back from the force, her head snapping forwards for a brief moment. She immediately stopped breathing. A second arrow was quick to join the first. The woman looked downwards, clearly stunned. A squeak caught in her throat as she tried to suck in air, she stumbled backwards, her swings at her two opponents becoming more wild, reckless.

Anya waited until the woman’s arm was thrown past her side before raising her axe higher, swinging it down as hard as she could into the woman’s shoulder, striking true the precise spot where her arm connected to her torso. Svetlana finished off the disabled woman by crashing the sharp spike on the reverse side of the axe’s head into the top of the woman’s skull, instantly crushing in a large section of bone. If death wasn’t instantaneous, it was nonetheless assured.

Maximus had traded blows with his exhausted opponent to the point where he had prevented the man’s ability to flee. If he couldn’t run the man through, Max had thought, then he’d hit the man everywhere else that mattered: the muscles in his arms that allowed for grip, the muscles in his legs that allowed for strides, the muscles between his legs that allowed for pride. It was all fair play, for the enraged Imperial. His opponent had managed to land some solid hits of his own, of course. A mistimed block with his sword had cost Maximus a blow to the gauntlet, which he believed had resulted in at least one fracture.

At one point, when he had stepped in to punch the man in the stomach, the Forsworn had answered in kind, rocking a vicious hook into the side of Max’s head. A particularly savage strike to the stomach had nearly cost him his head, as well - the one and only time thus far that the native Breton had almost defeated him, compared to the numerous close calls Maximus had already given him. Eventually, Max just grinned, dropping his arm and letting his sword hang by his side. The man stared at Max for a moment, confused, wary of whatever ploy the Imperial might’ve been trying. After that moment of trepidation, however, the opportunity just seemed too sweet to ignore. He was too exhausted to allow this battle to go on, any longer.

It wasn’t until he had grabbed his axe with both hands and brought it up over his head that he realized why Max was grinning. With his underarms exposed, Gabby was free to thrust her daggers into his armpits, digging them into him before twisting. The axe nervelessly fell from the man’s hands before she kicked him behind his knees, forcing him down into a kneel. Finally, Max raised his sword back up. Still grinning, he swept it down as hard as he could with both hands, and when the man fell, he did so in two pieces. With him slain, all the Forsworn in the immediate vicinity had been dealt with, although that hardly gave Max and the rest a brief chance to catch their breath before the rest arrived.

Max, breathing heavy, stared off into the distance at the nearby tents surrounding the camp’s sizeable dinner bonfire. They were mere seconds away, and from the sounds of the clamour, they could’ve easily been several score strong. Gabriella, pulling the two arrows from her abdomen, watched Max begin to quickly step backwards, his brow furrowed deep, grit teeth bared. Loudly, he ordered “Fall back! We’ll be overwhelmed in an instant!” Svetlana couldn’t help but look a little baffled. A retreat? To where? Gabriella gazed intently at him, gauging his intentions. He wouldn’t make this call without good reason.

“You heard the man! Fall back!” Anya loudly repeated, grabbing Svetlana by the arm before hurrying her away from the glow of the fire. Max watched Gabby’s eyes, his grin turning decidedly sadistic. He waved for her to follow, then held out his hand. He almost sounded like he was holding back a laugh as he, more quietly, added “C’mon, we haven’t even started with these bastards.” Gabby started to smile. She hurried over as best she could with stomach wounds, briefly taking him by the hand before he let go, bringing his arm around her to touch her back, ensuring she went ahead of him.

Footsteps, behind them. Close.

Loudly now, letting everyone hear, he said “Sabrina, cover the exit!” The emotionally recovered Sabrina glanced at him, expression resolute. No need to tell her twice. Once he and Gabby were out of the way, Sabrina raised her hands, electricity crackling around her fists. Forsworn were just then erupting from the woodworks like frenzied termites, emerging from around the nearby tents, rushing towards the enemy with battle cries. The sight of a few of them covered in soot only made Sabrina smile. She thrust her arms out, firing blasts of lightning against the ground over and over again, slowly spreading apart her efforts.

Every time her spells struck the ground, they vomited upwards and exploded into bigger shapes, spreading out across the grass and dirt in veritable walls. The leading Forsworn all stumbled to a stop, recoiling and pushing back as the ones in the rear ended up running into the group. Now, the lights flooding the area were a deep blue, rather than crimson. As Sabrina’s Walls of Lightning spread wider and wider in a thick barrier, growing like the very ground were an unstable conductor, she could hear Maximus laughing to himself somewhere behind her, apparently highly entertained by the concept of harassing the Forsworn and then simply slipping away. By cutting them off, Sabrina was providing the perfect escape.

One of the lead Forsworn must’ve heard Max over the crackling and raging of Sabrina’s electricity, because the sound of a man’s furious roar abruptly filled the air before a behemoth of a Breton leapt through the blue tendrils arcing into the sky. Sabrina raised an eyebrow, her smile falling into an annoyed frown. The extremely muscular Breton slammed into the dirt in a squat, quickly rising back to his feet as he held his dual steel swords at the ready, teeth bared in an enraged, bloodthirsty snarl as he looked around for his opponents. Even as electricity arced across his body, he was ready for a fight.

At the sight of the warlord, Bunny’s blood ran cold. If she wasn’t motivated to make a quick, quiet exit before, she certainly was, now. When the warlord spotted Sabrina, he began sprinting towards her. She just smiled, one eye narrowing. She stood her ground and threw out a couple extra spells, ensuring no other fool would attempt to follow his example. If they did, they’d simply leap straight into the Lightning Runes she was signing into the ground, directly in front of her Lightning Walls. Then, in the blink of an eye, she completely vanished from view, utterly disappearing from the area. The warlord raced over to her position, anyway.

As soon as he reached where she had been standing, he blindly swung his swords around, cleaving through empty air. Breathing ragged, he just stood there, looking around, listening. It was impossible to hear anything over the din of Sabrina’s Lightning Walls, but he hadn’t reached his rank by being complacent with the occupiers. If the clan had had more archers on hand, perhaps these upstarts could’ve been wiped out without the entire encampment needing to be stirred up. Where in blue blazes was Straight Arrow, or the rest of her friends, for that matter?

(Author's Note - Hey guys, here’s another chapter! Hope you enjoyed seeing the first bit of the conflict:D. I enjoyed writing everyone working together and tackling their opposition through their different roles. So far, the group’s attack on Bunny’s clan has gone surprisingly well, but then again, it easily would’ve been a very different story, had Sabre and Sabrina not opened with a hectic distraction. Still, the group managed to kill over a dozen fighters from the clan with minimal injuries, then escaped before the full, organized fighting force could stampede into them and overwhelm them. If they can get away with these kind of hit-and-run guerilla tactics, they’ll be able to whittle the clan’s fighting force down to a more manageable number...Although, no doubt the clan will adapt. Straight Arrow and her reinforcements are still an unaccounted-for threat, as well.

I also wanted to take the opportunity to let you guys know that if you’re ever interested in hearing about updates to Forsworn Retribution or any of my other stories, I always post in my writing thread on the Hentai Foundry forums when new things go up:)! More importantly than that, though, it’s an easy place for me to let you guys know when chapters will be late due to unforeseen issues, like that bad computer trouble I recently had, since I don’t really keep up with social media. It’s also a good place to shoot me a private message, if you want:D.

I had an idea that I wanted to run by you guys, something I’ve previously done in a story after the plot was finished. In a story like this, usually a lot of ideas for sex scenes don’t end up fitting smoothly into the plot - like that suggestion from way back that I wanted to do for a rough Max, Sabrina, and Anya threesome, where the self-important ice queen, Anya, is taught a little something about humility by a couple angry Imperials - so it can be nice to do those scenes in self-contained bonus chapters, afterwards. I haven’t forgotten the great support you guys showed for Anya, or the requests for her to get another good sex scene:D. Anyone interested in a couple bonus chapters? If I went with that idea, I’d largely be relying on suggestions like I did when the story was first starting, so I’d be even happier to listen to your feedback than I already am:). Hope to hear from you guys!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I’ll see you in the next action-packed one!)
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The Forsworn Retribution