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The Forsworn Retribution	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 60892 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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Iron-Heart

The Forsworn Retribution
Part IX - "Crownless Kings"
By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson
Original Date Written: April 17, 2016

Svetlana and Anya had barely been able to advance upon the emerging Frost Maidens before Moira’s call for the retreat blared over the din of combat. They watched with some confusion as the remaining horde broke off from the combat and ran, racing off towards the southwest, making for the mountain wall lining the encampment’s flank. Some were slower to disengage than others, perhaps as an intentional move to buy their fellows time, but eventually, all Forsworn in the immediate area had either been slain or had retreated. Svetlana looked around, glancing about to see if any of her comrades had fallen. The rush of victory was too great to bear. Rearing back and throwing her arms above her head, holding her axe high, she gave a bloodthirsty shout, putting wings on the feet of the Forsworn caitiffs.

Maximus held up Stonearm’s severed head until the Bretons had all vacated the area. Once they had, he let his arm fall to his side. Breathing heavy, he simply shrugged his arm out, discarding the head to the cold, hard earth, listening as it gave a meaty thunk upon impact. Sabrina, brow furrowing in a hint of confusion, brought a hand to the wound in her chest. As the gravitas of her injury dawned on her, she eased herself down to a knee, breathing slowly and deliberately. At the very least, Stonearm had ran her through with a smooth, sleek, steel sword, rather than the serrated blades usually fashioned by the natives. Bunny, tears in her eyes, pulled Elsa’s arrows from her body, one by one. Gabriella did the same with the broken arrows still embedded into her flesh, but as the rest grew quiet in the wake of Svetlana’s victory cry, it was Bunny who steadily grew more and more agitated.

So worked up did she become that each breath became a frustrated grunt. She was so injured that she could barely stand, but indeed, the diminutive Breton forced herself up to her feet, quiver empty and bow hanging heavy in her hands. As loudly as she could, voice choked up with pain, she ordered “Go after them! W-What’re you all waiting, for? Didn’t you hear? They’re going to the hags! If they all get in there, we’re fucked! C’mon!” Maximus looked over at her, watching her stumble towards the charred tents, just ahead. His eyes darted to each of his lady friends, judging their condition. Did he press their luck and give pursuit, or did he wait and allow them each to recuperate? Anya was silently watching him, awaiting his orders. She, at least, was no worse for wear.

Sabrina had taken a wound that’d be mortal to an ordinary man, while Gabriella had been pierced by more than a handful of arrows. Svetlana was clearly weary, but she, at least, appeared unharmed. Max, still weighing the situation, didn’t answer Bunny straight away. He raised a hand to the slash at the corner of his neck as Bunny looked in their direction, her one intact eye wide as she raised her voice further, nearly screaming with frustration as she shouted “C’mon! We don’t have a choice! It’s either now, or never!” Svetlana glanced over at Bunny, ready to tell her to calm herself when she noticed the young Forsworn’s grievous injuries.

She did a double-take just as Max noticed the blood marring Bunny’s face, himself. The priestess’ eyes widened before she slowly exclaimed “...By Mara, Bunny, you need help! What happened to your eye? How in Oblivion are you still conscious?” The others looked over, and Anya, in particular, seemed visibly surprised by Bunny’s resilience. Bunny stopped walking, turning to face the rest, who, in her agitation, appeared to be lagging behind and hesitating when victory was at hand. Impatiently, she blurted out “I, I don’t know, okay? We need to keep going-!” “No, most of us have taken a beating,” Max calmly spoke up, extending his arm towards Bunny and holding out his hand, gesturing for her to hold.

Finally decided on the matter, he coolly added “We take a minute to heal. Svetlana, start with Bunny, and hurry. She looks like someone tried making a pincushion out of her.” Bunny’s eye widened. “No, I’m fine, really-” “Stop it, no you aren’t,” Svetlana interrupted, hurrying towards the Breton. “Sit down, already. This is no joke, Bunny, you’re hurt everywhere. Do you have any idea how lucky you are not to be dead, with an eye wound like that? What hit you, an arrow? By Mara...” Bunny immediately stopped protesting. Svetlana’s scolding almost appeared to drain the energy out of Bunny, who began to wobble and deflate before she finally began kneeling, sitting down on the ground for Svetlana to tend to.

Sabrina didn’t wait for Lana to waste her Magicka, on her. Her stockings becoming caked over the knees with moist dirt, she dropped to her hands and crawled on all fours towards the nearest corpse. Without ceremony, she rolled the dead man over from his side, pulled his chin up to expose his throat, and dropped her head. It was a crude method of revivification, but it was one available to her alone, and would allow Svetlana to better spend her time and energies elsewhere. Maximus gave his damaged sword a glance, then sheathed it, walking over towards Gabriella. She was pulling the last of the arrows from her body when he reached her, too distracted to notice him, for a couple moments. When she realized he was there, he was holding out her Elven dagger by the blade, offering her the grip. She looked up, first at the dagger, then at his eyes.

Without a word, she reached up and took it, sticking it into her sheath before realizing his hand was still outstretched. She reached out, again, and grabbed on to him, and when he helped her rise, he pulled her to her feet hard enough to make her stumble into him. His free arm went around her to steady her, holding her by the small of her back. She grabbed him by the arm, just below his shoulder, catching herself with a soft, pained grunt. A cool look on his face, he quietly asked “You alright? That fight couldn’t have been easy.” She looked just as stoic about the whole affair as he did. With their close proximity, she spoke in a hushed tone to match, remarking “I’m fine. Looks like you ended up biting off the biggest mouthful, of us all.”

“Yeah, well, Stonearm was a bigger challenge than I thought. I had a plan, though. I always do. Still, thanks for evening the playing field.” He answered, watching the way her big, red eyes gently shifted back and forth between his. The two of them stood like that for several moments, remaining close together until she finally mumbled “...Sure you did. Don’t ask me to take chances, Max.” He smiled. “I did, Gabby, or didn’t you notice the way I broke his sword? I knew what I was doing.” Gabriella leaned in just as the last word was leaving his lips, signalling him to stop talking with a quick peck to his mouth. She put her arms around him, and after a moment, he did the same, in kind.

After a couple minutes, he began releasing her, prompting her to slowly do the same. He barely nodded in the direction of the others. Under his breath, he prodded her on, saying “You first. I can wait.” Gabriella’s eyes went a little confused, for a moment. “Come with me, you need to get looked at, too.” “I will, but I wanna check in with Sabrina. Lana’s probably going to need some more time with Bunny, anyway. Don’t worry, I need to check in with Bunny, too. She looked miserable.” His Dunmer consort gazed into his eyes for several moments, likely trying to think of an argument to push the issue, but finally, she acquiesced with a wordless nod. Finally taking their hands off of each other, entirely, she turned and started walking off for Svetlana. He watched her go for a few moments, then looked over at Sabrina, pacing off in her direction.

Her efforts to heal herself were noticeably silent, yet predictably messy. Max’s eyes roamed the horrendous, almost festering laceration that the silver sword had stretched across Sabrina’s back, marring her beautiful, pale white skin with an enormous patch of disintegrated flesh, surrounding a wound that, for lack of a better term, simply looked diseased. Slowly, however perceptibly, her skin healed itself the more she fed, rejuvenating itself until the afflicted flesh shrunk, the laceration filled. With a brief gasp, Sabrina bolted upright onto her knees, tearing her face away from the wet, meaty maw she had made of the corpse’s throat. Like some craven wolf feasting upon carrion, she had been gnawing at his meat to get to the juices inside, glutting herself until half her face was smeared with crimson.

Eyelids rapidly fluttering with ecstasy, she rolled her jaw around, then breathed out “I...I haven’t needed to heal myself, like this in...In months...” Maximus flatly remarked “...Doesn’t seem particularly efficient.” Sabrina started to rein in her breathing as she grabbed at the corpse’s fur tunic, tearing off a wide strip to wipe her face, with. In a quiet mutter, she answered “Of course it isn’t efficient, it’s messy, and...Shameful, but it does work. Lana should be focusing on you, next. I can save us time and energy by taking care of myself.” Without vacillation, Maximus quietly stated “Well, I respect your resourcefulness. Thank you for helping me deal with Stonearm, Sabrina. Your help made a big difference. He had me outnumbered, and I appreciate that you helped put him on even ground, with me. You opened him up, for me.”

Sabrina went still, for a moment or two. Her hand, and the bloody rag she was using to clean her face with, paused over her mouth. She turned her head a little, but didn’t look at him from over her shoulder. In a significantly softer tone, she murmured “Of course, Max...You don’t need to say a thing. You know I’ll always be there, for you...When I saw you were in trouble, I needed to do something to help.” Looking back down at the corpse, she resumed wiping at her face, quietly adding “I don’t regret a thing. This dress is ruined, though, I’m sad to say.” Maximus smirked. “We’ll get you a new one. A dozen new ones.” Sabrina gave an entertained exhale, like a chuckle that didn’t quite make it. “I appreciate the thought, although you might run into a bit of difficulty with that, considering my measurements.”

“Then I’ll take you to Solitude, have them custom-fit with a seamstress,” he offered, smiling more at the thought. Now, Sabrina gave a little chortle. Dropping the rag to the corpse at her knees, she looked over her shoulder, and this time, he was able to see some of her face. Smiling, she murmured “I might hold you to that. I’m looking forward to it, already.” “How’s your back? What in Oblivion were you hit with, anyway?” Maximus asked, giving her back a nod. Sabrina gave a slow exhale, rising up to her feet as she nonchalantly answered “A dead man’s sword. I’m going to be fine, Max...I’m more worried about you, Lana should take a look at you.”

Still keeping her back to him, she raised a hand near her face, demurely gesturing towards herself with flattened fingers. “...It means more to me than I can say that you’re concerned for me, Max, but...I’m sorry, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I hate having you see me, like this. I still need another body, or two, to fully recover. You should go see Lana, I know you’re hurt.” “You don’t have to look at me, if you don’t want to,” he remarked, walking towards her. She turned her head a touch, letting out a quiet peep of confusion as he stepped right up to her. She stayed still, trustingly keeping put. He reached around her from behind, stroking his hand across her belly, feeling the soft material of her dress under his palm and fingers, her stomach barely recoiling out of surprise at the tender touch.

With the other hand, he reached up, cleared her long, thick hair from the back of her neck, and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, sending an electric current coursing through her body in an intense wave of shivers. She barely had time to rest her hand over his, holding his hand to her tummy before he was slipping away, walking his way towards the rest. She hated to see him go, but it was what she had asked for, in not so many words. Better nobody sees her like this, especially not him. When Max reached the others, he and Anya briefly met eyes. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement, which he returned in kind. When his eyes turned to Bunny, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, his mouth hanging open, a crack, at her condition.

He raised a hand, rubbing it around his mouth before putting his fist under his nose, crossing his other arm over his chest, resting one forearm under the other arm’s elbow. Quietly, he watched Svetlana work, his thoughts his own, even as Bunny looked up at him. She gave him a queer smile, tiredly remarking “I guess I’m a real sight, huh?” Maximus didn’t answer, which prompted Bunny to give a chuckle that descended into a brief coughing fit. She was in worse shape than he had realized, at first. He knew she had been hurt, but not quite to this extent. She looked like she had been hit by a dozen arrows, some of which had landed in nasty spots, not to mention the arrow that had made an awful mess of the left side of her face.

Svetlana was radiating golden, chiming Restoration Magicka from her hands, holding them over Bunny’s body wounds. With a light shake of her head, she looked over her shoulder, quietly remarking “I’m not sure what to do about her eye...I can’t heal the wound while it’s still inside, and I don’t know if I can pull the arrowhead out without completely destroying the eye, entirely. It broke some of the bone of her temple, too. Like I said before, I have no idea how she’s still even conscious.” “She’s stronger than you realize,” Maximus quietly answered, voice partially muffled by his hand. Bunny smiled from ear to ear, at that. In a small voice, she confidently asserted “If an eye was all I had to pay to see you get your revenge, and me get mine, I can live with that.”

Maximus’ eyes shifted to her uninjured one, locking gazes with her for several seconds. “...Maybe Sabrina can do something about it?” Anya suggested. “If she can cast a Disintegration spell on the arrowhead, she could destroy it, instead of us needing to pull it out.” Svetlana paused, for a moment, as she considered the idea. Excitement bubbling up in her voice, she chimed in “...If she could do that, I might be able to save the eye, it’s still not too late! The damage isn’t so bad that I can’t fix it, although...Bunny, you’re going to have a scar. No telling how bad it’ll be.” “I can live with that,” the Breton halfheartedly mumbled, barely shrugging.

Maximus turned to the side and gave a sharp whistle, prompting Sabrina’s head to pop up, in the distance. When she looked over, he gave her a wave over, to which she held up for a finger for a moment to compose herself. Maximus looked back at Bunny in time to catch her growing apprehension. Her expression steadily shifting as she turned her face towards Svetlana a little more, she slowly arched her eyebrows, her lips lightly pouted out, while her intact eye drifted off to the side, then fell down towards the ground. A subtle crack in her voice, she asked “...Will I be able to see with it, again?” Svetlana didn’t answer, straight away. She needed a moment, then gently answered “...I can’t say for sure, Bunny...I’m sorry.” Bunny dropped her chin, momentarily crushing her lips against one another.

After a pause, Anya calmly stated “They’ve retreated, and if they get into a defensive position, we’re going to have a genuinely problematic situation, on our hands. Orders?” It took Max a moment to realize she was speaking to him, so engrossed was he. Tearing his eyes away from Bunny, he raised his eyebrows and glanced in her direction, finally noticing the way she was staring at him. Looking back at Bunny, he quietly answered “I stand by my judgement. We all need a minute to rest. No sense going half-cocked, and Bunny needed immediate attention. Did they ever get at you, by the way, Anya?” “No, my armour served me well, and Svetlana and I made a good team,” she was quick to reply. “Thank you for your concern,” she formally added, seemingly as an afterthought.

Max simply gave a nod in acknowledgement. By the time Sabrina came over, Svetlana was almost finished up with Bunny’s arrow injuries, and upon being filled in on Anya’s idea, the sorceress was quick to express apprehension. Disintegration spells, she said, were ordinarily fairly large and cumbersome to cast. Although she believed she could condense it down to a touch application to avoid damaging Bunny’s gear, and in spite of the fact that Disintegration spells were harmless to organic bodies, she couldn’t guarantee that the damage wasn’t already done. Bunny didn’t seem to care, although it was Svetlana who spoke for her, urging Sabrina to do anything, if she was capable of doing so. If nothing was within her power, then she was wasting time, time that could be spent figuring out another way to safely remove the arrowhead from Bunny’s socket.

Sabrina quietly stepped closer to Bunny, squatting down by the young woman. She took Bunny by the back of her neck, gently bracing her head in place as she raised her other hand, pointing her index finger directly towards Bunny’s damaged eye. Sabrina tried telling Bunny to relax, but when she began easing her finger closer, Bunny’s breathing audibly escalated. The Breton simply had to grit her teeth and bear it as Sabrina held her still and began prodding her finger into the wound, causing fresh blood to trickle as she poked deeper, following the remaining bit of the arrow’s shaft with her digit. Svetlana had to avert her eyes at first, but eventually, she grabbed Bunny’s shoulder as well as one of her hands, watching her uninjured eye.

Gabriella watched with morbid fascination, silently observing the unorthodox procedure unfold. A tense silence filled the air. Bunny gave a soft whimper once Sabrina’s digit had gone deep enough. A wet trail ran from the corner of her other eye, her fist clenching at the grass at her side until her knuckles went white. Sabrina closed her eyes for a moment, and as she opened them again, a red glow began to emanate from inside Bunny’s wounded socket, as well as the break in her skin just beside, through her temple. The tip of the arrowhead, visibly torn through her temple, began to erode away, quickly consumed by the red light as if the very air were taking nibbles out of the material. In less than ten seconds, the entire foreign object had been removed from Bunny’s body, destroyed from within.

Immediately, fresh blood began to run from both sides of the injury, and Bunny couldn’t help but let out a grunt, baring her clenched teeth. Svetlana quietly squeezed Bunny’s hand, feeling the girl clench back like a vise. Sabrina carefully withdrew her finger, calmly stating “It’s done, try to heal her, if you can.” “Just hold on, Bunny,” Svetlana hastily said, bringing her hand over the girl’s face, blasting restorative Magicka into her, jolting her with several applications of Heal Other before falling back on a steady application of Healing Hands. Sabrina remained by the two, continuing to hold Bunny’s head steady, quelling her instinctual reactions to jerk her head away.

The horrible break in Bunny’s temple closed itself, once Svetlana manually pushed the broken bone into a close approximation of the proper shape. Within a few minutes, Svetlana stopped, stating that she believed the wound had finished healing. Max stared as Svetlana and Sabrina slowly stood up, then helped Bunny do the same. Bunny’s eye was still too caked in blood to judge her final condition, something Bunny herself was quick to point out, mentioning that she couldn’t open her eye. Svetlana reassured her that that was normal, and to not force it. She’d need an opportunity to wash her face, first, anyway. As Svetlana turned to Max, he instead pointed at Gabriella, directing the healer towards a more worthy patient.

As Bunny picked her bow back up from the ground and began collecting a new bushel of arrows from the battlefield, Maximus directed Sabrina to sneak into the Forsworn encampment and see what she can find out about the clan’s position. If they had left behind any ambushes, she had his permission to engage and eliminate. With a nod, Sabrina cast Muffle and Invisibility upon herself, then set off into the camp. As one final preparatory step, Maximus returned to Stonearm’s corpse. With his sheathed blade too damaged to be reliable at this point, he claimed the veteran’s remaining steel sword for himself, looking it over as he returned to the others. It hadn’t been crafted or honed as well as his own, but it was in good condition, and had an intriguing flourish worked into the metal different from the usual Nordic style. It’d serve him well, in this conflict.

Sabrina returned shortly after Svetlana had finished healing Max’s injuries. Although her reaction was muted, he could tell she was surprised to report that there hadn’t been any ambushes lying in wait, nor any traps that had been left behind. The encampment had been utterly evacuated, with everyone having retreated to a narrow slot in the mountainside. Sabrina had only risked venturing close enough to get a sense of what the enemy’s first line of defence was, but it was enough for her to know that the team would genuinely have their work cut out for them.

There were at least three dozen men and women left standing, on high alert and at the ready near the mouth of their sanctuary, ready to repel the interlopers. The majority of them were individuals who had survived the earlier battle royale, including numerous berserkers, archers, and a contingent of Frost Maidens. She didn’t have the opportunity to spot Sun Eater or the second Briarheart Bunny mentioned, nor the Hagravens, which she supposed meant they must’ve been further inside the valley. With their backs to the wall, literally as well as figuratively, they were sure to fight tooth and nail, and they outnumbered the lot of them by such a wide margin...As well, putting themselves in that slot meant that the enemy would be forced to funnel in towards them, rather than attack unpredictably from any side.

Maximus calmly told her that he was aware of their tactical advantages, and that he applauded them for making the obvious battlefield choices, but that it wouldn’t be enough to protect them or dissuade him. They could do it, he assured her; no battle was insurmountable. It wasn’t numbers that won a conflict, it was individuals who rose to the challenge, individuals like her, like Svetlana, like Bunny and Gabriella, resourceful people who weren’t afraid to stand strong and defy the apparent odds. There wasn’t a one among the enemy’s number that could match their discipline, their dedication. They could win the day. He believed in each and every one of them, and would put his life in their hands, without hesitation.

Although his words started off as a personal reassurance to the sorceress, the rest picked up on his words as they grew into a speech, and the smiles it put on their faces spoke more than he had. Sabrina gave a nod, softly answering that she believed in him. She’d stay with him until the end, whatever that may be. They wouldn’t allow this clan to become a problem, for Markarth. Reaching into her cleavage, she slipped free her black soul gem, offered it to him, and told him whose soul had filled it. Who would make a better trophy than Stonearm, the man who had been so doggedly determined to personally slay Maximus? Maximus had to smile. First his soul, then his sword. He hadn’t been kind to the man, but then again, he was just paying him in kind, wasn’t he? He took the soul gem, slipped it into his armour, and told the girls to ready themselves. It was time to push on.

His plan was simple, but demanded more than a bit from each of them. When at last he got around to elaborating upon his own part in the battle, some of his lady friends glanced at each other. Bunny reached out and took Max by the hand, asking him if he was sure. He wasn’t concerned. Everything would go according to plan, and the rest of them would make sure of that. His way would give the rest of them the best possible chance to mop up these survivors, and overall, give them all the best chance of victory. Everyone had their specific targets and roles in mind, and after some kisses for good luck from his lady friends, they all quietly entered the encampment proper, making their way closer to the Hagraven’s brooding grounds.

Gabriella whispered that he better know what he’s doing. The twitch in her voice wasn’t something he was used to hearing. She didn’t approve, but he swore he was keeping his promise, to her. She didn’t think she believed him, and after a moment of sullen silence, repeated that he had better know what he’s doing, because she certainly didn’t. He pulled her close, a hug she was slow to embrace. Max didn’t put in the time or effort to bring her around, and it showed: he received the cold shoulder, from then on. Svetlana offered her blessings, Sabrina offered her fortifications, and ultimately, Maximus approached the ascent, alone.

He only loosely held Stonearm’s blade, allowing the weapon to hang at his side. The air cooled further as he climbed the path, chilling the sweat on his skin, quelling the flames continuing to rage within. He passed by a grand tent decorated with decapitated goat heads and dismembered skeever torsos, a sturdy bed lying within, along with a large, sealed chest. A second tent passed him by over towards his left, naught a few moments later: Sun Eater’s, no doubt, likely filled with hoarded goods, as well. The thought of plunder never even so much as dared to rear it’s head, in his mind. Nothing was more important than finishing this fight. For his own sake, as much as it was for his lady friends, this couldn’t go on any further.

He found it rather likely that nobody in Markarth would ever know about the threat he and his team had disposed of. No glory would go to them, no bards would sing of their tale. As far as Markarth knew, they had just been a few wandering mercenaries, now hunted by the Thalmor. At one time, knowing he wouldn’t be receiving any rewards or recognition might’ve dissuaded him. Now, it simply mattered not. He drew in a deep breath of the chilly air, failing to notice in the gloom how the frost on the grass quickly spread to the ground, growing into a thin layer of snow. When he heard their near-silent vigil, he quickened his pace. His nerves were silent, his mind calm. This would work.

As soon as they noticed him, the sharp whistle of over a dozen arrows filled the air. Maximus strode onwards, several of the arrows screaming past him. The rest rolled off of his body, shattered by the fresh coating of Ebonyflesh protecting his form, reinforcing his body firmer than the armour of kings. Another volley of arrows came to the same impotent result, prompting a man to shout for the berserkers to move in. Maximus raised his new blade, holding it ready with both hands on the grip. With little else besides starlight to illuminate the battlefield, his opponents were hardly even shadows, twisted black shapes that charged towards him with axes held high. Maximus came to a stop, standing his ground. They gave their war cries, ready to finish the job Stonearm had started.

When they crashed into Max, they knocked him straight off of his feet, throwing him down to the ground. Already, they were hacking at him like a pack of wolves, too cowardly to fight him one-on-one, let alone allow him a chance to defend himself. If not for his Ebonyflesh, they would’ve dismembered him in seconds. Their weapons were dull thuds against his body as he tried to rise. He swung out at a figure towards his right, hearing only the sharp scrape of metal against metal, in the process. Someone to his left slammed their foot into his side, knocking him back down, giving them all more time to pile up on him.

He blindly reached out and found someone’s foot, which promptly had them kicking away his hand. With Max now knowing precisely where they were, however, it was simple for him to slash the length of his blade up high between the figure’s legs, earning a bloodcurdling scream from the woman. Maximus rose to his feet and grabbed her by the shoulder, feeling the breastplate under his palm. Sneering, he lowered his arm and raised the point of his sword, thrusting his blade under the bottom edge of her breastplate, impaling her through the abdomen until the tip of his blade struck the rear side of her armour.

He pulled the weapon back out at an angle, and although she attempted to keep fighting, she wouldn’t have much time before her wound overcame her. He swung out again, high towards his right, catching someone else before a second individual blocked his weapon with their own. The injured individual gave a choked gurgle, stumbling away from the conflict. The pops of Magelight filled the air a moment before orbs of light flew towards the conflict, coming from the direction of the Hags’ brooding ground. A woman’s voice, the same as that which had called the retreat, boomed out over the metallic clangs, ordering “Finish this fool! His friends can’t be far!”

The twin orbs of Magelight came hurtling in, striking the ground on either side of the mob. Light burst into Max’s eyes as the spells took root, illuminating his surrounding with a white, heavenly glow. The figures around him, however, remained as black as ever as they faced him, hardly the edges of their faces becoming visible, even with the intensity of the lights at their backs. Maximus shoved back against someone who charged in from his left, and with his other arm, thrust out at someone standing before him. The tip of Stonearm’s sword was fine enough to pierce into the iron breastplate, but Max hadn’t attacked with the surety needed to penetrate deep enough in order to run the man through.

Instead, a second figure swung down in an arc, clashing their silver sword against his crossguard in a clear attempt at disarming him. Max kept his grip on his blade, chopping it to the side towards the offending assailant, catching them deep across the abdomen. Then, he was bracing his sword with both hands, thrusting out once more. He was immediately rewarded with the sensation of metal giving way, swiftly followed by flesh and bone, a shocked wheeze drifting out of his initial opponent. In the distance behind him, the pops and thumps of erupting Magicka echoed out, filling him with confusion. What in Talos’ name was Sabrina doing? It wasn’t time for her to engage, just yet! She was giving away her position!

Begrudgingly, Gabriella followed Maximus’ orders to the letter. Having snuck away from the rest, she had climbed the mountainside just next to the brooding grounds, getting a better look at the area as she made for the rear side. Even before one of the Frost Maidens threw Magelight into the conflict, she could see her consort, swarmed by over a dozen berserkers. If she had had things her way, he never would’ve gone through with this. He would survive, so long as Sabrina’s fortifications lasted. The rest of them needed to play their parts before he ever exceeded that point. Not far behind the berserkers, a row of archers stood, arrows drawn as they watched for anyone else who might come in from behind Maximus, in order to aid him.

Just behind and beside the archers were a collection of Frost Maidens, the pale blue glow of Frost Magicka glowing in their hands. At the very rear of the mountainous slot were her targets: a handful of figures keeping well away from the conflict. Sun Eater was easy to pick out, thanks to the Flame Magicka glowing red in his hands. Another figure was with him, as well, but in the gloom, Gabriella couldn’t hope to discern who, precisely, it was. The closer she snuck, the clearer she could make out the raspy, raggedy breathing of the Hagravens, the bones of those hideous monstrosities audibly creaking as they shuffled about. Gabriella could only imagine how eager the twisted beasts were for the conflict to end; likely, nothing had ever threatened them, to this degree.

Rounding the far edge of the valley, she began to descend as silently as she could, taking as much time as she felt she could get away with. “Cut off the head,” Max had told her, “and the snake will die.” She doesn’t need to subject herself to the mob, like he does. All she has to do is eliminate the leadership from behind the enemy formation, and the realization that they’ve lost their best and brightest will shock and demoralize the underlings. That was to be her role in extricating Max from the situation he’d be putting himself in, and although it was incredibly dangerous, she was the only one he believed in to see it through. As she reached the base of the mountain’s wall, she, too, heard the unexpected explosions of distant Magicka. For a moment, she wondered if she had been too slow, if Sabrina was already playing her part.

The thought quickened her footsteps. In a low crouch, she crept out from behind some kind of stone formation at the rear of the valley. It was too dark for her to see what, precisely, it was, although it smelled absolutely atrocious, no doubt entirely thanks to the filth of the Hagravens. In the near-absolute darkness, she had to rely more on sound than sight. She could hear the Hagravens as clear as day, with the three of them pacing about as loudly as they were. The figure who could only be Sun Eater stood not far, facing towards the conflict as still as a statue, observing the battle as it played out. The black silhouette she could make out against the starlit sky, by his side, was just as still and silent. Could they be the second Briarheart, perhaps?

Gabriella’s brow furrowed in concentration. She might only have the opportunity to quietly finish off one of them before the others noticed, and if she’s already taken too much time, she can’t very well weigh each target too carefully. Recklessly, she moved a little too quickly towards the nearest Hagraven, silently sliding free a dagger from her first sheath. She followed the sound of the creature’s heavy, gasping breathing just as much as she followed the abomination’s stench, and once she came close enough, she stood up and struck. The Hagraven grunted in confusion at the last possible second, noticing the soft sounds of someone coming too close for comfort.

Gabriella grabbed a fistful of the creature’s thin, greasy hair with one hand, instantly earning a disturbing cry from it as she secured it’s head in place. Before the monstrosity could lash out at her with it’s razor-sharp talons, she reached her arm around and plunged her dagger into it’s throat, tearing it to the side to widen the wound. The Hagraven’s gurgling cry instantly alerted the others. The figure next to Sun Eater cast Candlelight over himself almost immediately, banishing the cover of darkness, exposing Gabriella to the outraged, murderous eyes of everyone present.

Gabriella didn’t waste time, sprinting over to the next closest Hagraven. Fully exposed by the light, she had no choice but to admit that the freaks looked worse than they smelled. True to their name, the Hagravens appeared to be some horrific, utterly unnatural fusion of woman and bird. Thanks to their permanently hunched posture, they were shorter than she was, but if they ever stretched themselves out, they’d likely be a full head taller than her. They had the faces of positively unsightly old women, complete with boils, black eyes, and an oversized, visibly hooked nose, complete with clearly yellowed teeth between their thin, cracked lips.

They were both emaciated, with black tufts of down and feathers sprouting from their pale, dirt-smudged flesh in various spots, most prominently along the outer sides of either arm. Their hands had been transformed into crude approximations of bird’s feet, with their flesh turning into a tough, almost scale-like material, their fingers having each elongated until they ended in lengthy black talons. Their legs did a better job at being facsimiles, with their flesh from below the knees turning into a dark, hard material, more closely resembling the long, narrow feet of birds of prey. Their toes had transformed until, like a bird, they only had three toes on the front as well as one at the rear, each sprouting a vicious talon to match their hands.

Some small semblance of humanity was reflected in the Hagraven’s queer desire to wear scraps of clothing. Although their breasts had shrunk to virtually nonexistence, one of them wore what could only be described as a very loosely-fitting leather bra, while the other wore a rather clumsily-fastened leather corset. Both of them wore long pelt skirts decorated with the bleached bones of small animals, as well as bundles of their own black feathers alongside diced bits of Taproot. Gabriella managed to reach one of the Hagravens before anyone could intervene, although the screeching, squealing beast wasn’t afraid to defend itself. With a wretched, guttural cry, it swung out an arm with surprising swiftness, catching Gabriella across the arm. The beast-woman’s talons sheared straight through Gabriella’s leather armour, slicing deep across the flesh underneath.

The Dunmer didn’t let it, or the following blows, dissuade her from entering the beast’s personal space, coming so close she could smell the creature’s rancid breath. The Hagraven’s dark eyes widened as the dagger came plunging down, her mouth opening in a silent cry before the tip bit in. The blade plunged into the soft space between the Hagraven’s collar bone and the side of her throat, causing the beast to howl in pain. Gabriella twisted the knife, pulling free her other dagger with her second hand, ready to slash the Hagraven across the throat when a flash of white light filled her peripheral vision. The resounding boom of a thunderclap nearly deafened her. For the first instant, there was no pain, but by the time she had been thrown to the side, knocked clear of the Hagraven before slamming into the ground, a fire was quickly spreading across her nerves, shooting up to her brain from her left hip.

She had tried to keep her grip on her dagger, but it had been torn out of her grasp, left embedded in the Hagraven’s shoulder. Gabriella, gasping at the unexpected assault, looked up at them from the ground, quickly rising to a knee before struggling to get to both feet. The second Briarheart, the arcs of Shock Magicka filling his hands, slowly walked over, putting himself between his Matrons and the assassin. He was a surprisingly lean man, with a skinny body no more muscular than someone like Bunny. He wore a mask-like fur hood over his head, decorated with antlers and bones, giving it a roughly helmet-like shape that sat squarely over his skull. Only his mouth was visible, twisted into a scowl.

Beyond that, however, he only wore a pelt loincloth along with a pair of fur boots, displaying much of his unnaturally pallid, snowy skin, as well as the very visible hole in his chest, only loosely stitched shut to keep his replacement heart inside. The Hagraven she had injured reached up and grabbed the dagger, quietly growling as she yanked it back out of herself. In a raspy, dry voice, so distorted Gabriella had to wonder if the creature was even suited to human speech anymore, the Hagraven remarked “Foolish little cretin! I’ll cut out your red little eyes, with this thing!”

Gabriella’s jaw tightened. Her eyes darted to their Briarheart bodyguard before she flung her arm up, letting go of her weapon at just the right moment for a perfect arc. None of them expected the move. Her dagger went twirling through the air as fast as an arrow, striking the Briarheart blade-first over his stomach, biting in for about half the length of the edge. Stupid move. You never throw your weapon, especially if it isn’t something that’s meant to be thrown. It almost never causes harm, and even when it does, you usually only succeed in losing your damned weapon and putting it squarely in the hands of your enemy. If Max was short on time, however, she was willing to take risks, no matter how ridiculous they might be, so long as they had some chance of success.

She took off in a wild sprint towards the injured Hagraven, causing the creature to give a shrill cry, raising her talons near her chest. The second Hagraven shuffled away like an old crone going for a boiling tea kettle, flame Magicka appearing in her hands as she sought an opening large enough to lob a fireball through. The Briarheart looked down in surprise, quietly grabbing the handle protruding from his stomach, pulling it back out with a subdued grunt. The injured Hagraven tried slashing at Gabriella, but this time, the woman avoided the swipe with a duck, grabbed the hag’s other hand, and twisted. The Hagraven gave a cry as her wrist bent too far for comfort, opening her fingers enough for Gabby to pull her dagger free.

The injured Hagraven cried out for Sun Eater to do something, but nobody had enough time to prevent Gabriella from swinging her arm back out, slashing the hideous hag across the throat. Gabriella didn’t have the chance to observe the fruits of her labour. The second Briarheart grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, jabbed his fist into her abdomen, tore her away from his Matron, and threw her to the side, putting her so off-balance that she nearly collapsed to her hands and knees. It was only by the grace of fast footwork that she managed to steady herself, having to pivot around on a heel to keep her balance. Still, she was gasping for air, her stomach feeling crushed inwards by the force of the tainted man’s blow.

The beast tried to remain standing, but with the dark red flowing freely from it’s throat, the Hagraven was quickly losing strength. It stumbled to the side, tried to steady itself, and slowly fell to a knee, weakening further and further as it bled out. In short order, the creature collapsed. Each of it’s comrades knew they’d be incapable of doing anything to save it, in time. The damage was done, and a second Matron to the clan had been claimed - by a lone occupier, no less! Gabriella had barely turned back around to face them when she realized that the light in the area had intensified, the crackling of flame filling her ears. When her eyes found Sun Eater, she found his body ablaze, the man utterly immolated with a raging inferno until he was little more than fire, filling the silhouette of a man.

She tried not to let it distract or surprise her, but she went still for one second too long. Without warning, Sun Eater raised his arms and thrust them out, launching a concentrated fireball straight at her. Her jaw clenched as she tried to pull away, but it managed to catch her, erupting against her arm. The gale-like wail that filled her ears was surreal. The heat was enough to dry her lips and mouth, forcing her to close her eyes and turn her face away as the flames expanded, erupting around her head and torso in a flash of pain. She stumbled back, but didn’t collapse, regaining her balance in short order before charging to the side. Her hair, singed though it may be, swung about behind her, smoke trailing from her cooked leather armour.

The remaining Hagraven feebly gesticulated with an arm, throwing out a fireball of it’s own. The flames erupted near Gabriella’s feet, but again, aside from causing a stumble, she refused to fall. Even the flames seemed to fail to cling to her, barely burning her armour. “Die, maggot!” The final Hagraven screeched in frustration, throwing a second fireball to the same impotent effect. This one, Gabriella evaded, darting to the side just far enough for the fireball to whip past her back, exploding in a flash of light, far behind her. “Felix!” Sun Eater urged, his deep, rumbling voice like a rolling boulder. The second Briarheart caught on to what Sun Eater was getting at. If flame was ineffective against the elf, then lightning would be better suited. He only had time to throw out a single Lightning Bolt, however, before Gabriella was too close for comfort.

He launched it out low, hoping to shatter her legs with the tempestuous force of his finely-honed Magicka. Instead, he missed, Gabriella diving forward through the air in a graceful arc until she caught herself, rolled over her shoulder, and jumped up to her feet, directly in front of the Hagraven. The Lightning Bolt struck the dirt behind her with such resounding strength that a small cloud of dirt was ripped straight out of the ground and thrown up into the air, complete with arcs of residual lightning filling the area in a brief cloud. He had blown his one chance. Now, Gabby was too close to his Matron for Magicka to be safe.

Gabriella was silent, an intense frown on her face, her eyes left wide with adrenaline. The Hagraven, meanwhile, screeched, just as angry that this assassin had killed her two sisters as she was that her two Briarhearts had failed to snap off the elf’s head like tinder. The two of them struck each other with the same intent. Gabriella plunged her dagger into the creature’s chest, while the Hagraven plunged her talons into Gabriella’s abdomen, punching her long claws straight through Gabby’s armour. The air wheezed straight out of Gabriella, her eyes widening at the agony. It were as if numerous knives had all been stabbed into her belly at once, shocking her system so badly that her limbs very nearly locked up. The twisted hag, meanwhile, simply took it, finally grinning a snaggletoothed maw as a sense of triumph came over her.

Felix marched towards her, intent on snapping the impudent Dunmer’s neck, now that she was occupied. The Hagraven howled in her face, trying to dig her talons in deeper, even as blood ran along her fingers and poured down her hand. The assassin bared her teeth in determination before pulling the dagger back out. She slammed it back in, withdrew it, and plunged it once more, repeatedly stabbing the Hagraven until Felix finally came up behind her. She felt one arm abruptly loop around her neck, the other pressing to the back of her head, bracing her between his wiry limbs. He squeezed as he pulled her away from the Hagraven, sliding her off of the Hagraven’s long talons.

Blood poured down the exterior and interior of Gabriella’s armour, flowing down and into her leggings. The Dunmer could hardly let out a choked grunt as her windpipe was compressed, cutting off her flow of oxygen in an instant. The remaining Matron, wheezing gurgling breaths, one arm limply clutched to her chest like an injured wing, shuffled closer, coming deeper into the light until ominous shadows filled the pits of her features. Baring her teeth, blood beginning to run from her mouth, she snapped her jaws between hacking inhales, ordering “Hold her sti...Still, Breton. I’ll have this...Wretch’s eyes for what...Huaww...She’s done to my sisters!”

Gabriella’s brow furrowed, her clenched teeth bared as she tried her best to tighten up her neck, resisting Felix’s crushing headlock. She raised her arm, plunged it down, and stabbed him in the stomach, plunging her dagger in up to the handle. Aside from a slight flinch, he didn’t react, and if anything, his hold on her tightened. Gabriella’s heartbeat dully rang in her ears as the circulation to her head was cut off. She had to close her eyes to avoid witnessing the perimeter of her peripheral vision fail into black fuzz. The Hagraven came close enough to lash out. Purely out of spite, she gave Gabriella a quick, darting slash across the face with her own dagger, cutting her from just next to her left eyebrow, down past the corner of her eye, and into the middle of her cheek, instantly sending blood running down her face.

Now, her heavy breathing almost made it sound like the hag was getting off on torturing the restrained elf. She gave a wet gurgle, followed by a harsh cough, and finally brought the tip of Gabriella’s dagger to her eyelid. If she was going to do something, the time was now. Gabriella pulled her dagger free from Felix’s stomach, flipped it around until the blade was protruding from the top of her fist, and threw her arm up over her shoulder, aiming for Felix’s throat. In a flash, he snapped his arm over, grabbing her wrist so quickly and tightly that a loud clap filled the air, thanks to his palm slapping into her leather vambrace. Gabriella’s eyes opened, in a flash. The fool fell for it.

With one arm off of her, Gabriella was wide open to escape. She jerked her head back, bashing the back of her skull into Felix’s nose. In nearly the same motion, she pulled her legs up and planted them against the Hagraven’s chest, pushing her away as she “ran” up the creature’s body with a few short, harsh stomps. In the process of turning horizontal in the air between her two opponents, she twisted her shoulders, slipping her head out from Felix’s weakened hold. Twirling, she unintentionally snapped a foot into the Hagraven’s wrist, knocking her dagger straight out of the creature’s clumsy grip in a lucky strike. Felix’s continuing grip on her forearm nearly ended up dislocating her arm during her acrobatic manoeuver, and indeed, one good twist from the man could’ve broken her arm in at least one spot.

Thankfully, she moved faster than he could analyze. As she fell to the ground, landing on a hand and knee, she twisted herself back around in the opposite direction, sweeping her free leg out until she kicked the feet out from under Felix. Without his feet planted against the ground, he lost just enough gripping power for Gabriella to wrench her wrist out of his fist, setting herself free as he fell. The Hagraven extended her arms and unleashed a gout of Flames from both hands simultaneously, screaming shrilly in rage. The inferno raged into Gabriella’s front from barely a foot away, forcing her to close her eyes, preventing her from breathing as the flames consumed the very oxygen from within her nostrils.

As the fire wrapped around her body, she continued forward, even as the searing pain in her flesh betrayed the threat that her armour might cook to her body. Once she was close enough, Gabriella smacked aside the Hagraven’s claws. It all happened so fast, neither Felix nor the conspicuously detached Sun Eater could do anything to prevent it. Gabriella zipped around the Hagraven, brought her dagger to the creature’s throat, but refrained from delivering the killing blow. Her other arm wrapping around the creature’s body, she clutched the freak close until her wretched hide acted as a shield. Gabriella glared at the two Briarhearts from over the Hagraven’s shoulder, her teeth on edge as she snapped “Call your men off! Disperse them!”

For a moment, nobody moved, leaving them in a tense silence. Felix, staring at Gabriella from his prone position, eventually gave a dark chuckle, brow furrowed as a wide grin split his face. The lone assassin, charred armour smouldering to the point where black smoke was drifting into the sky, taking a mortally wounded Matron hostage? He glanced at the burning form of Sun Eater, as if Gabriella’s demand were a jest. Slowly, he began to rise to his feet. The Hagraven struggled against Gabriella’s hold, giving an altogether unpleasant, guttural squawking before snapping “Kill this fool! Rip her apart! Take her spine!” Gabriella pressed the dagger so tight against the Hagraven’s throat that the edge split skin, sending blood down the beast’s throat. Eyes widening, Gabriella was about to mention Maximus by name and repeat her demand when Sun Eater abruptly jerked to the side.

Gabriella’s keen eyes spotted the arrow shaft jutting from his back, quickly ignited by his flames, burned away in seconds. He turned around and, with a faint whistle, a second arrow struck him in the chest. Felix’s jaw visibly dropped as Sun Eater stumbled backwards, letting out a grunt. Had the arrow struck him in the heart? The flames around his body faltered, weakening until they were a flickering blue, his body clearly visible beneath. The arrow jutting from the center of his chest lit up with his flames just before the poison coating the arrows consumed the last of Sun Eater’s Magicka, making it impossible for him to sustain his incredibly intense Flame Cloak spell.

As the flames fell, Sun Eater grabbed the arrow in his chest, still burning, and yanked it out, followed by the one in his back. Gabriella couldn’t get a good look at him now that the light coming from his flames had disappeared, and with his back to Felix, the other Briarheart’s Candlelight only revealed one side of the warlord’s form. He looked like a great bear of a man, tall and burly, his body thick and rippling with incredibly defined musculature. Brown hair was sprinkled across his arms and back, while the hair on his head was long enough to reach his shoulders, wild and messy. From the looks of things, the only thing he bothered to wear was a long loincloth, noticeably well crafted from the yellow pelt of a sabre cat. The thick belt girding his waist was made from black leather with inlays of pure gold, decorated in a style foreign to the Nordic craftsmanship of Skyrim.

A surprisingly outraged voice bellowed out over the lingering sounds of combat, nearby. “Faaatherrr! I’ve come back! Face me, I’m the one you want! Do you even remember who I am, anymore? I’m not afraid of you, any more! I’m not afraid of any of you!” Gabriella’s eyes shifted off towards the darkness, out of confusion. The Hagraven angrily blurted out “Breton! Kill this one, already! Cut out her eyes, rip out her damned tongue! Take her heart!” He didn’t seem to hear her, prompting Felix to shoot glances back and forth between the two parties. Sun Eater’s hands clenched into fists, at his sides. He pulled to the left very suddenly, narrowly avoiding a third arrow.

Gabriella glanced at Felix and, with a cold smile, executed her squirming hostage. He darted forward a step or two, snapping “Don’t-,” but stopped when he realized it was already too late. Mercilessly, she dragged her dagger across the Hagraven’s throat, cutting her off mid-growl, turning the noise into yet another wet gurgle. His mouth twisted into a snarl before he roared with rage, the thin muscles in his lithe frame visibly coiling up. Gabriella allowed the limp body to callously fall from her arms, leaving herself exposed, and Felix answered by simply thrusting his arms out towards her, flinging a concentrated Lightning Bolt in her direction...

While Maximus was leaving for his lone confrontation with the Forsworn, buying everyone else enough time to get into their positions and wait for their openings, Svetlana, Bunny, Anya, and Sabrina all hung back, keeping far to their leader’s rear. Gabriella needed a fair bit of time to get into position, as well, considering she was to be the assassin that removed the enemy leadership. The rest were to wait until Maximus had drawn in all of the melee combatants, leaving the archers and Frost Maidens exposed to Bunny and Sabrina, who could engage them from afar without unnecessary bodies presenting a meat shield. Then, before the Ebonyflesh Sabrina had imbued Maximus with could subside, Anya and Svetlana would go to his aid and help clean up whichever berserkers he had yet to slay, preventing their leader’s high risk, high reward tactical decision from turning into a needless suicide run.

Still, in spite of disapproving of his idea, none of them had been able to think of a better alternative. Maximus had known that an individual would have a better chance of creating an opening than a whole group would’ve. Rushing to face the entrenched Forsworn as a group simply would’ve gotten them all killed, as Maximus and the readied hail of archery fire he had walked into had proven. However, as they watched and waited, observing for their chances to enter the fray, Bunny’s ears pricked up. Her eyes narrowing, she looked over her shoulder, looking off into the black abyss stretching forth scant twenty paces before her. Sabrina, too busy staring at the conflict ahead, hastily whispered “I think now’s our chance. Bunny, come, I can see the archers and-”

Just as hurriedly, Bunny shushed her, hissing out a “Shh” as she lightly gestured near her mouth. Sabrina raised an eyebrow, glancing over as the petite Breton, still staring suspiciously into the distance, muttered “...I thought I heard something.” Anya, crouched not far, glanced over. Sabrina looked over her shoulder and, hardly a moment later, her pupils shrank to pinpricks. Without a word, she jumped to her feet, Magicka roaring into life in the palms of her hands. Anya glanced behind herself, a flash of wrath forcing her to wonder why Sabrina was willing to ruin their cover and expose them to the enemy. What could possibly be so important?

From each hand, a raging inferno boiled into life, quickly cast down into the encampment, exploding against the ground several yards away. A few shouts of pain echoed out, and against the flash of light, several black silhouettes could be made out for a fraction of a second. Bunny gasped, her eyes widening as she urgently stuck an arm behind herself, so anxious that she tore an arrow out of her quiver. She couldn’t even think to speak the name, she simply drew her arrow taut on her Glass bow and fired it off into the darkness. Anya clapped Svetlana hard over the back, loudly ordering “Get some light down there, now!!” Svetlana turned around, clearly a little lost in the sudden confusion. What was happening? What was going on?

Balls of crisp, white light appeared in her fists, and after but a moment of charging the spells, she threw out twin orbs of Magelight, followed by another pair. Before they had even touched the ground, a familiar voice in the distance yelled “We’re spotted, rip ‘em apart!” When the Magelight hit the ground and popped, the entire ordeal was laid bare for the four sellswords. At least fifteen Forsworn, most of whom were pillagers and looters, had quietly congregated in a small mob, uncomfortably close to the group’s rear. Where they had come from, only one of them could offer a guess.

Standing front and center was the familiar figure of Straight Arrow, her massive, impractical greatbow erect in her hands. About four of the pillagers had been licked by Sabrina’s fireballs, but of the four, only two had been engulfed badly enough that they were panicking, one dropping his swords as he patted himself down, the other dropping to the dirt and rolling against it, hoping to extinguish as much of the flame as possible, as quickly as possible. The rest sprang into action immediately, charging towards the four of them with weapons raised and battle cries loosed. They were gleeful to spill blood - this time, the ambush was on the interlopers, rather than their innocent compatriots.

Bunny saw her sister grin as she raised her greatbow a foot above the ground, quickly slamming it back down until the bottom end bit into the dirt, anchoring itself in. The two of them drew arrows at the same time, Bunny pulling one of her salvaged arrows, Straight drawing one of her oversized, sword-like great arrows. Straight’s narrow, muscular frame tensed up as she steadied the arrow against her forearm for but a second, bringing the enormous rear end of the shaft to the long, thick drawstring. She inhaled as she pulled, aiming upwards at Bunny as best she could with what was essentially a handheld ballistae, ready to spear her sibling on an oversized skewer.

Her sister was quicker, and showed the same lack of hesitation. Her arrow was smaller, swifter to aim. Her bow was more practical, easier to handle. Her lithe form went rigid, the small muscles in her arms flexing as she pulled tight her Glass bow’s firm drawstring. She fired with a satisfying fwip. Straight abruptly yanked her greatbow out of the dirt, hopped a foot to the side, slammed it back down for an anchoring, and resumed drawing, as if nothing had happened. Bunny’s eyes widened, the Breton scrambling up to her feet as looters came running within meters of her, swords drawn as they closed in on the defenceless, traitorous archer.

Sabrina, the flames in her hands turning into electricity, threw out concentrated blasts of Chain Lightning, but there were so many of them, they were already so close, that her efforts had limited effect. She struck out once, twice, and even a third time, each blast of electricity arcing between four of the nine-strong mob, stunning multiple thanks to their close proximity to one another aiding in varying the stream of Magicka; by the same token, that variability prevented Sabrina’s flurries from killing more than a single one of them. The two she had temporarily disabled with flame had recovered, by that point, and the remaining three, archers all, spaced themselves out by Straight Arrow’s flanks, drawing homemade arrows on their crude bows.

Anya ran to Sabrina’s aid as the sorceress retreated in a hurry, eyes wide as a woman came too close for comfort. Before the woman’s axe could drop into her shoulder, Sabrina blasted the woman with Lightning Surge with both hands, causing the woman to break into a fit of convulsions as the current blew through her body, down into the dirt. The ends of some of her hair ignited in flames as the flesh of her axe arm charred black, and a moment later, she simply collapsed like a sack of bricks, dropping to the ground in a limp heap. A man swung his axe over and managed to clip Sabrina across the inside of her hand, easily shattering a couple of bones as he swatted her arm off to the side, forcing her to retreat further as he pressed his charge.

Another man tried to follow the leader, but Anya intercepted him with a brutal thrust to his stomach, running the man clear through his gut as quick as a flash. In the blink of an eye, she had torn her sword back out, shoving the man to the side until he collapsed in front of several of his compatriots. One of the remaining seven was able to react in time to leap over the man’s tripped body, while another had been too fast to be affected, allowing the two to continue after Sabrina. The remaining four turned their attention to Anya and Bunny, splitting themselves up until two went for the enemy archer, while the other two went for the Altmer soldier.

Their level of discipline was a surprise, even for Anya. After seeing their compatriots recklessly pile up like amateurs on anything that moved in the earlier battle royale, seeing these ones naturally show some coordination had her impressed. That mild sense of admiration was swiftly quashed from her mind when, without warning, a sharp, piercing pain punctured her left side, prompting her to glance downwards. An arrow had actually managed to punch through her breastplate, giving her her first real injury in the entire conflict. She could barely glance over at the archers by Straight’s side before her two opponents were swinging out for her, hoping to bury their stone axe blades in her forehead. After pulling back, she kept the two of them at bay with a couple swift horizontal slashes.

Mid-swing, she abruptly pulled upwards, catching one of them across the chest. Recklessly, Anya moved back in while the man was stunned, running him through the soft target of his abdomen. The other man, failing to expect such a move, crashed right into Anya, slamming shoulder-to-shoulder with her. He and Anya had the same thought, the two of them rearing their heads back and crashing the corners of their foreheads against one another, headbutting each other so hard that their skin split, sending blood trickling down into their respective eyebrows and eyes. Baring her teeth, Anya pulled her sword from the one man and stepped back from the other, but rammed back into him when she noticed the archer still aiming at her, through her peripheral vision.

The man, yelling in his throat, raised his axe behind her and jammed it back against the rear of her skull. The explosion of pain that rocked through her head turned portions of her vision black, but the pain was enough motivation for Anya pay him in kind. Grabbing her iron sword with both hands, one at the tip, she raised it up behind him and, with a shout, jerked her arms back as well as her body, cleaving the edge of her blade into the back of his neck deep enough to hew into bone. A brief spatter of blood popped from between his lips, striking her face as he went limp, promptly dropping to his knees. Once she had pulled the edge from his neck, he collapsed, limbs lightly twitching out of confusion as his final few moments were spent in paralysis.

Bunny notched an arrow as fast as she could, aiming at the first woman to come running. She gave a quick jerk on the arrow shaft, prompting the clever woman to duck and weave to the side in a quick hop, hoping to evade the arrow. When the arrow never left Bunny’s pinching fingers, however, and Bunny simply aimed a foot to the side, the woman knew she was in trouble. Bunny let the arrow fly, and with the woman still momentarily immobile as she recovered from her own agile manoeuver, she couldn’t avoid it. The arrow bit her in the torso, but she refused to fall, and when a second woman came bursting past the first woman’s side so fast that she nearly knocked her compatriot to the ground, Bunny could only gasp.

The woman raised her sword over her shoulder, but before it could fall, a massive Icy Spear came spearing out from the side, blowing into the side of the woman’s torso hard enough to knock her off of her feet. She was dead before she even hit the ground. Bunny looked over in time to catch Sabrina finish off her second opponent with true brutality. With the man’s legs disabled by Icy Spears, she was free to fling another into his mouth from point-blank range, tearing the man’s head asunder in an instant. An arrow whizzed by Bunny’s side and the heavy clung of Straight’s drawstring filling her ears, reminding her of the opponent left before her in the nick of time. When the injured Forsworn swung for Bunny, the young woman jumped back at the last possible second, the sword merely grazing her across her chest.

The missed swing threw the woman off-balance, and in her badly injured state, the weight of her weapon twisted her shoulders to the side, sending her toppling to the ground. Bunny didn’t hesitate to stomp on the woman’s throat until she stopped moving, then drew an arrow and allowed her eyes to find her sister. Svetlana had raced in, using her Ward as a shield to deflect one of the two subordinate archers’ fire. Once she had come close enough, the archer had turned and ran, prompting Svetlana to sprint after her until she had finally chased the woman down and cracked her skull with her axe. The final bit of the conflict happened so quickly, it was practically a blur, for Bunny.

She drew an arrow and aimed at the second archer, but when she noticed that Straight was aiming off to the side, she had to shift her target. Straight finally let her second great arrow go, sending what was essentially a catapulted spear flying out in Anya’s direction. Anya pulled to the side, but the massive arrow still rammed into her shoulder, sending an ear-splitting screech into the air as her pauldron and part of her breastplate were deformed and sheared. Anya was sent twisting down to the ground. Bunny fired her arrow into Straight’s stomach, watching her elder sister’s long, auburn hair jerk about as her head recoiled. She stared, perhaps surprised by the reality of what she had just done. It felt like ages before she finally drew a second arrow. Straight pulled free another great arrow of her own.

When Sabrina threw a Ice Storm in Straight’s direction, the young woman just stood her ground and fired her arrow in Sabrina’s direction, the immense lance of an arrow punching straight through the Ice Storm, dispersing the spell. Sabrina’s eyes widened. It was only by the grace of her quick thinking that she managed to save herself from being impaled, just barely catching the great arrow with Telekinesis. She thought to throw it back, but the arrow was too heavy for her spell to handle, and it feebly fell out of her ethereal grasp, clunking down to the dirt. Bunny fired another arrow, this time hitting Straight dead center in the chest. Her older sister stumbled back a step, but still, she refused to fall.

The remaining archer dropped her bow and fled, abandoning her friend as a lost cause, taking off into the darkness. Svetlana charged for Straight’s rear with her axe held high, letting loose a bloodcurdling war cry in the process. Straight drew one more great arrow, then abruptly spun around, catching Svetlana off-guard as she swung her great arrow like a club. The weapon hit Svetlana’s under her upraised arm, striking her ribs from just under her shoulder, cutting off her war cry while crushing bones and sending Svetlana stumbling down to the dirt. Straight, eyes wide and wild, teeth bared, was panting with exertion as she notched and finally drew her arrow. Bunny watched as the thick point of the arrow turned in her direction. She thought fast, moved faster.

She drew an arrow so swiftly, she nearly notched two. She pulled, she released, and watched the arrow pierce into the side of Straight’s neck. A brief, bone-chilling scream filled the air, Straight’s head thrown back as she unhanded her great arrow, sending it flying in her sister’s direction. Bunny’s eyes barely widened. Her toes clenched at the grass so hard that they nearly tore off. She pulled herself to the side in a restrained dive. Mid-collapse, Straight’s massive great arrow tore past Bunny, flying between her arm and stomach, cutting through the space her torso had occupied a fraction of a second earlier. The roar of the great arrow punching into the dirt behind her nearly deafened her, and a small shower of dirt scratched against her back, thrown at her skin like fragments of glass from the force of the impact.

Bunny watched Straight’s hands limply let go of the greatbow, her body tilting backwards until she collapsed down to the dirt with a great, resounding thud. Bunny didn’t waste any time. Face flush and burning from exertion, she jumped to her feet, loudly ordering “Sabrina! We can’t leave Gabby to my dad! Come on!” Sabrina had to tear her eyes away from Straight’s body, but quickly gave a nod, although answered monosyllabically: “Max!” Bunny, panting, pulled an arrow from her quiver, notching it as she and Sabrina took off in runs towards the nearby conflict. Over her shoulder, Sabrina called out “Lana, look after Anya, then catch up! We can’t do this alone!”

Svetlana, wincing and groaning, pushed herself up from the dirt with the arm on her uninjured side. She looked up at the two of them, in such a rush to aid Max and Gabby that they left their other friends behind. Groaning, she looked over in Straight’s direction. She wasn’t moving. The arrow in the side of her neck as visibly protruding into the air. Her eyes fell from the sight. It had cost them, but they had survived the ambush. It could’ve cost them all a whole lot more. Her eyes shifted to Anya as the soldier stirred, reaching an arm out as she clawed at the dirt. Svetlana got up to her hands and knees, groaning out Anya’s name. “Hold on...Let me, nngh, Mara...Take a look at you...We can’t waste any time, the two of them are gonna need us for Max!” Anya gave an audible sigh, heavy and hard with disappointment. She had messed up. Her platemail, so protective, had been too bulky for her to move quickly enough to avoid the great arrow. Now, she was weighing Svetlana down. What good soldier ever allowed themself to become a burden?

The battle had been more intense than anything Maximus had experienced, in his life. The berserkers refused to give him even an inch of breathing room, swarming him, barely missing each other as they tried to break through his Ebonyflesh. The glowing cyan Alteration spell kept him safe, but he knew it was only a temporary measure. Once it subsided, he’d be dead. The shadows around him fell, slowly, one after the other. He had tried to face this calmly, to keep a cool head in order to stay lucid. As the fighting wore on, however, he rapidly gave in to rage. A berserker’s wrath filled him, spurred on by the misguided sense of invincibility that the Ebonyflesh gave him, making him roar with bloodthirsty laughter as he ignored the strikes of his enemies and felled them with harsh strokes of his new trophy-blade.

A pair of silver-haired men were the greatest threats, by far. They seemed to realize that breaking through Max’s protection was a futile endeavour, and that they simply needed to wait him out until he was vulnerable. To that end, they conserved their energy. Instead of lashing out at him, they deflected his blows and tried to parry him whenever he struck out at someone near them, but even enraged like he was, Maximus was more concerned with thinning the herd than dealing with the most skilled enemies present.

As the mob began to clear, he knew the archers would be trying to take aim. When opposing arrows began to rip out at his back, he was too lost to wrath to realize someone was coming to his aid. One of the archers was dead before the rest even knew there was an enemy, Moira shouting as she coordinated the archers into a defensive formation. The Frost Maidens moved in, but blasts of Chain Lightning kept them at bay, forcing them to pay attention to a different foe than the courageous Imperial facing their berserkers. At last, the Ebonyflesh keeping him alive dissipated, leaving him vulnerable. The two silver-haired veterans finally struck, and the few still standing found a second wind, lashing out at Max with all their might.

Three different axes smashed into his scalemail vest with bone-crunching force. The serrated middle of a sword crashed down on his shoulder, tearing to the side to slice the side of his neck. The veterans thrust their swords into Max’s scalemail, angling the curved tips just so, managing to pierce through and stab into his flesh. Teeth bared, eyes wide, Maximus threw both his arms down, knocking the swords straight out of the veteran’s grips. When a woman to his left tried swinging her axe into the back of his head, he twisted to face her, swung his arm up, and sliced her across the underside of her arm, shocking her into dropping her weapon. Darting closer towards her, he mercilessly ran his sword through her torso, catching her between two ribs. He pulled her to the side and sent her sprawling into the others, knocking one man to the ground.

The veterans picked up their blades in time for one of them to slash for Max’s midsection, as he pounced upon the downed man. The kinetic force of the blow may have knocked the wind out of Max, but it failed to stop him from plunging the tip of his sword straight into the man’s throat, all but beheading him in one pinpoint thrust. Maximus moved like a blur, laughing with wide-eyed glee as he split flesh and severed limbs. One of the veterans tried to blind him with a high slash, but merely missed, diagonally cutting Max from his chin up past the left corner of his mouth. Maximus simply laughed at the man’s attempt, slaying the last of his underlings with a heartless slash across the throat.

He could barely see the second veteran snarl before he thrust his arm out, opening his hand. When something flew into both of his eyes, he had to grunt and recoil, his eyes shutting as he stumbled away. For a moment, he curled his lip up, but then he was grinning barbarously, once more. Raising his voice, he was laughing as he shouted “Is that the best you can do?! Blind me?!” Something pierced through his scalemail vest again, making his body jerk to the side as something ran him through. The pain was extraordinary, but it wasn’t enough. Max simply grabbed the man’s wrist, locking him to his weapon before blindly sticking his arm out. He didn’t stop until he felt the edge of his blade touch something, then pulled it to the side. Whatever he sliced made the man’s grip go slack, and the thud shortly after suggested the attack the been lethal.

He barely heard Moira shout for the archers to focus on Maximus, not the enemy archer. Just a few seconds later, one arrow, then two, bit into Max’s torso, punching through his scalemail. The first received no reaction, from him. The second made him stumble. The remaining veteran berserker took advantage of his loss of balance by viciously ramming into him, knocking him down until he collapsed over the pile of bodies he had left in his wake. When the Imperial went down, the man stomped down upon his sword arm, preventing him from defending himself with his weapon. He was at the berserker’s mercy.

Max could barely open his eyes, the dirt under his eyelids making it impossible to see without peering through a wet, muddled haze. He was about to pull away when the veteran pointed his sword down at his face, stopping him instantly. Breathing heavy from the combat, the much older man stared down at his enemy, an alien, unrecognizable look in his eyes. Max, his brow furrowed, stared defiantly up at the man. Within seconds, he was grinning, again. “...Do it.” The veteran just kept silently staring, and now, the look in his eyes suggested he wasn’t sure what to make of Max’s reaction. Max’s boiling blood quickly had him snapping. Raising his voice, he shouted “Do it! Fucking do it, coward!”

The man pulled his sword back. Max’s eyes narrowed.

Bunny screamed his name. “Max!” An arrow bit into the veteran’s chest. A massive Icy Spear came hurtling out from behind Max, impaling the man clear through the chest with enough force to knock him off of his feet, throwing him backwards through the air from Maximus so hard, so suddenly, that he dropped his sword with a clatter. Max’s grin died. A sigh drifted out of him as his head fell back against somebody’s corpse, his fluid-filled eyes closing as the dirt continued to irritate his eyelids. He could hear his heartbeat throbbing, filling his ears as the shouting and eruptions of Magicka grew dim. The sensation of a sword handle in his grip, of earth beneath his body, numbed. It felt like the world was passing him by for hours before someone called his name, hurrying closer towards him from behind.

Svetlana dropped to her knees by Max’s side, pulling the arrows out of his body. Eyes wide, she eyed the arrowheads, still slick with a viscous cocktail of venoms. She threw the arrows aside, then patted the side of his face. “Max? Max! Can you hear me? Wake up!” He didn’t answer, his eyes rolling about under his eyelids, insensate. The golden chime of Restoration Magicka filled her hands as she brought them over his chest, casting cures for poisons upon him before flooding him with the power of her Healing Hands. She gave a jerk as an archer landed an arrow in her side. After a quick grunt of pain, she angrily tore the arrow from her side, glaring off at the archers before thrusting her arm out, raising a Greater Ward to shield the two of them.

Max quietly groaned, raising his sword as best he could. After a moment, it fell from his fingers, and his hand landed over her’s, over his chest. Looking over, Svetlana thought she could see a smile growing on his face. He knew. He knew one of them had come for him. Everything according to plan, right?

(Author's Note - Hey guys, here you are, another chapter:). For anyone looking for naughty sex scenes, I’m sorry, but we kinda don't have much space, at this point^_^". We’re wrapping up the plot:D! In an earlier chapter, I mentioned the idea of bonus standalone chapters, just for fun, to show off extra sex scenes, but the idea must not have been all that appealing, since there wasn't much in the way of interest. If you guys don’t want the story to drag on any longer than necessary, even for extra sex scenes, I can get behind that. Better than overstaying the welcome, right:)? I believe the next chapter will be the last one, and the epilogue will likely be in an additional, smaller chapter. I’ll probably take the time to write both and release them simultaneously, so that there’s no wait for you guys to have and read the full ending:).

So, in this chapter, the battle continues! After taking a moment to recuperate, Max decides to offer himself as a sacrificial lamb, hoping to create a diversion potent enough to open the enemy up so that his lady friends can strike decisively and with relative safety. Again, things don’t go quite as planned - Straight Arrow finally returns with her posse, conspicuously late. Is it possible that she might have an ulterior motive? The group, sans Maximus and Gabriella, have to fight off Straight’s group in a quick, tense skirmish before rushing to Max’s aid.

In a queer encounter, Sun Eater seems unwilling to engage Gabriella, leaving Felix the Briarheart alone to try and fight off the assassin as she slays the Hagravens. Even Felix seems incapable of stopping Gabriella, although as Bunny and Sabrina move on to her, she leaves herself open to retaliation from the Briarheart. Presumably, Maximus, Anya, and Svetlana are mopping up the remainder, unless Bunny and Sabrina rushed ahead to aid Gabriella. Out of the eight veterans still alive from the days of the Markarth Incident, only three remain: Bunny’s parents, Sun Eater and Moira, as well as a third individual. Against all odds, the clan is close to annihilation, and if Max’s team can finish the job, Markarth will be safe from the assault Sun Eater’s clan were planning.

Nobody will know what they accomplished, but for once, Max is more interested in altruism and the greater good than personal wealth and glory. Can they hide from the Thalmor, forever? Will they even survive this final confrontation? I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, stay tuned for the conclusion:)! See you then!)
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The Forsworn Retribution