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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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Vengeance's Final Reward, Part One

The Forsworn Retribution
Part IX - "Crownless Kings"
By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson
Original Date Written: May 29, 2016

When Maximus could finally open his eyes, the stars, above, greeted him, twinkling in the black abyss as if the very Aedra were watching. Svetlana was kneeling by his side, looking down at him with concern written plain on her face. The golden glow of her Restoration Magicka, as well as the blue light of her Greater Ward, radiated throughout his peripheral vision. Nearby, he could hear the explosions of Magicka, the shrill eruptions of Frost from the enemy matched by the booms of Sabrina’s Flame. Svetlana looked to the side as Moira shouted something in the distance, something he couldn’t catch.
When Svetlana turned her head back and looked down at him, the combination of blue and gold lights streaking across her beautiful face was surreal, doubly so whenever black shadows occasionally filled the contours of her features. Her blonde hair hanging down like curtains on either shoulder, she smiled down at him and, surprisingly calmly, urged “Max, it’s time to wake up, now. You have to get up, c’mon, we need you.” He gave a groan, opening his eyes a little more as he attempted to raise his head. He looked down at himself, noticing the bloody breaks in his scalemail vest. Each was a spot where the arrows and swords had tried to end him. Each had been a failure.
Svetlana gave a subtle sigh of relief, her smile growing wider. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder as a few Frost Maidens tried cracking her Ward, launching a few javelins of ice her way. Her Ward held strong, and as she looked back down at Max, he was sluggishly attempting to sit upright. Still just as calm as before, although now giving off a hint of urgency, she said “Thank Mara, when I saw the poison on those arrows, I almost thought I’d be too late. Can you stand? Sabrina and Bunny are dealing with the archers and Frost Maidens, but Anya can’t find a way closer without everyone ganging up on her. We-”
An eruption of Magicka against Svetlana’s Ward cut her off, making her grunt as she struggled to maintain the spell. Max’s brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate. The world was only slowly sliding back into proper focus. He felt like death. His hearing was muffled, as if cotton had been wedged into his ears. His whole body felt as heavy and stiff as wood, while the rear sides of his eyes ached. He briefly curled a lip up and grunted as a terrible tenseness in his abdomen resisted him, his eyes shutting as he darted a hand to his stomach. Svetlana dropped off her application of Healing Hands, shooting her hand around his shoulders to catch him before he lost his balance and collapsed back down.
Barely audible over the shouts of Frost Maidens and eruptions of Magicka, Svetlana raised her voice and continued her previous thought. “We haven’t broken through, yet! We don’t know how Gabby’s doing!” Max’s brow abruptly sank deep, his eyes opening right back up. He looked up into her eyes in a sharp stare, the hand over his stomach promptly going for her shoulder. His voice a little ragged from the phlegm caught in his throat, he ordered “Help me up, I’m good to go, again! Number one priority: smash through that line and get to Gabby!”
“You got it,” Svetlana answered, still holding up her Ward as she helped him rise. As Maximus struggled up to his feet, leaning heavily against his nurturing lady friend, Moira audibly roared “That damn Imperial’s still alive, break down that Ward and finish him off!” Maximus couldn’t help but smirk, staring darkly at the loose line of archers and Frost Maidens scattered out in the near distance. He had no idea that Bunny’s mother would be so determined to eliminate him. It was clear that she was the one calling the shots, over there. If she wanted a fight, he’d give it to her. Commander against commander, leader against leader; pound for pound, he knew that he and his soldiers were superior to her and her’s.
He started grinning once he had gotten to his feet, grabbing his trophy-blade, in the process. When a small avalanche of Icy Spears came hurtling their way, Max grabbed Svetlana around her waist and lunged to the side, pulling her with him in a sharp hop. They came completely out of the way of the enemy spells, clearing themselves from having to even so much as endure the sound of them impacting the Ward, the wind at their sides whistling as the lances went hurtling past. Max immediately began shouting, raising his voice so that his lady friends could hear him over the din of combat. “Sabrina, hit them with lightning! Knock them to their damn knees! Bunny, finish off the ones to the sides! Anya, move in while they’re stunned!”
“Right,” he heard Bunny call back, at the top of her lungs. Sabrina said nothing, although if the escalation in the ferocity of her attacks proved anything, she was relieved to hear him well, again. “Affirmative,” Anya called out, from somewhere behind him. Max felt one of Svetlana’s hands find one of his. The devoted priestess held tight, squeezing, ensuring her charge remained safe behind her Ward. Maximus watched as bolts of Chain Lightning came hurtling out from towards his left, blasting through the ranks of the archers. Each affected individual either went stumbling from the force of the attack or was briefly taken over by convulsions, effectively breaking up their firing pattern.
Max could hear Anya behind him, taking advantage of the disorganized archery fire to barrel towards the two of them, keeping cover behind Svetlana’s Ward. Bunny, meanwhile, was firing arrows at the ones yet untouched by Sabrina’s Magicka, particularly the ones who had spaced themselves further out at the sides, the ones who might get the bright idea to try and move forward in a pincer formation. By that point, Sabrina had been struck with several arrows, yet such wounds were trifling against her constitution. Indeed, even the toxins Moira had slathered upon the arrows found little purchase in the vampire’s veins, doing naught to slow down the undead sorceress. Electricity arced and popped between her fingers as she threw out bolt after bolt of Chain Lightning, but within moments, she was stepping up her aggression.
Spacing her feet shoulder-width apart, she closed her eyes, her lips set in a hard line. Brow furrowed, she gesticulated with her arms, slowly and briefly waving them out by her sides as she mustered up the might needed to cast the awe-inspiring Master Destruction spell. Moira shouted for the Frost Maidens to focus on the sorceress, something that made Sabrina’s eyes snap open. Sabrina couldn’t resist a smile as the Frost Maidens visibly turned their attention towards her, more openly separating themselves from the archers in order to fling their Ice Storms and Icy Spears her way.
Sabrina didn’t ever stop her ritual. When the small cloud of pink, mist-like Magicka spontaneously wafted off of her body, the Frost Maidens saw no reason to stop. They threw their massive lances of ice, their miniature blizzards, but when the spells struck Sabrina’s form, they instantly vanished, disappearing in tiny puffs of pink mist. Sabrina’s Spell Absorption spell, cast innately without the need for hand gesticulation, instantly dismantled the offensive spells cast at her person down to their base energy, adding that power to Sabrina’s own pools of Magicka. The Frost Maidens continued their efforts for several moments more, seemingly failing to realize that even if their spells weren’t bolstering Sabrina’s flagging reserves of Magicka, their effect upon her would still be limited.
Sabrina noticed Moira angrily step forward from the rear ranks, bow in hand. She let loose her arrow with a smart flick of her fingers, letting the drawstring snap over to the body of the bow. The arrow impacted the center of Sabrina’s chest, just in the very center of her cleavage, mere inches from her heart. Although the force was enough to jerk Sabrina’s shoulders back, she shot a foot behind herself and steadied her balance, preventing herself from collapsing. Moira instantly recognized the kind of trouble that was coming. The older woman darted off to the side, ducking low in a crouching run just as Sabrina brought her arms closer and thrust them out together, before herself.
Arcs of blue electricity abruptly ripped through the air around Sabrina, volatilely crackling around her body in a dense cloud. The eruption of the thunderclap was like a triumphant cheer from Kynareth, Herself. With her arms joined close together before her, a continuous, truly massive geyser of lightning exploded from the palms of Sabrina’s hands, as thick as a tree with dozens of errant arcs branching off on all sides in every direction, tearing up the earth if ever they struck the ground. The force of the Master Destruction spell briefly sent a rush of wind back against Sabrina, causing her dress to momentarily whip about behind her, her twin ponytails thrown over her shoulders.
The first archer struck by the Lightning Storm didn’t even have the chance to scream. When the electricity hit him, he was catapulted off of his feet, thrown down to the ground with a large section of his torso having instantly been charred black. Sabrina slowly twisted her shoulders, moving her arms to the side, dragging the thick column of raging electricity over towards a second archer, then a third, each cast down in an instant against the torrent. At first, archers on the far side of the ranks tried to focus on Sabrina and end the threat she posed, but swiftly, the Frost Maidens and archers both fell into chaos, hoping to avoid the deadly stream as it passed towards them.
Sabrina kept up her spell until she had cut a swath through half of their previous formation, leaving them scattered and disorganized. All the while, Bunny had been firing arrows into the enemy’s side of the battlefield, cutting down anyone who stayed still for too long, or whose path she could anticipate. However, Sabrina could not maintain such a powerful spell, indefinitely - absorbing the Magicka of the Frost Maidens during the initial ritual had been a boon, but by the time she had cut across half of the valley’s width, her pools of Magicka had run dry, and the spell simply faded as it failed.
Immediately, Moira was roaring “Regroup! Focus on the mage, bring her down before she can do that again! Somebody kill that fucking Imperial, already!” Maximus immediately roared “Sabrina, take cover! Bunny, keep firing!” Anya’s sabatons clunked against the dirt as she moved in further and raced past Max’s side, sword at the ready as she moved to smash herself into the enemy line. Svetlana, by then panting with exertion, had no choice but to let her Ward fall, a second later. Max immediately let go of her hand and started off for the combat, himself, trailing behind Anya. His legs, still stiff, slowed him down. His poison-weakened heart, racing with painful thuds, threatened to betray him. Still, he raised his sword and let loose a war cry, the fury of combat finding it’s way back into his breast.
Svetlana, not one to be outdone or left behind, raised her Forsworn axe and charged after him, bellowing a battle cry of her own. Inaccurate spears of ice from frenzied Frost Maidens flew past Maximus on all sides, and up ahead, at the peak of the valley, he could see flashes of light, each accompanying a vibration in the dirt beneath his feet, a mighty boom that filled the air. The flaming silhouette of Sun Eater stood in plain sight, seemingly observing the battle unfold. For whatever reason, he had not yet involved himself.
Gabby. Good gods, Gabby.
He willed his legs into loosening up, forcing himself to become more limber. An arrow struck him over the stomach at an awkward angle, failing to penetrate his scalemail vest, instead snapping itself in two against him. A Frost Maiden threw a javelin of ice his way with unsettling accuracy, but a quick jerk to the side had it whipping past his body, zooming off into the distance. In the gloom, he could see Anya up ahead, charging into one of the remaining archers before running the man through on her sword. When Max reached the battlefront, he was immediately beset upon by a bright, white-blue glow, a howling wind blasting through his ears as his flesh chilled beneath his armour, his nerve endings screaming in agony as the cold pinched and tweaked them.
He raised a hand before his face, doing his best to keep the Frostbite spell from catching him any more than it already had. Baring his teeth, he fearlessly marched straight into the fountain spell, sword held high by his side. The Frost Maiden who was casting the arctic blast put her second arm into it, intensifying the spell into a gale-like outpouring of Magicka. The wind was torn from Max’s lungs as the ice embraced his torso, freezing an increasingly thick layer of water and snow to the metal pieces of his armour. Without warning, he lashed out with his sword, twisting his body to the side before swinging straight into the howling gale. The spell immediately weakened as he caught the Frost Maiden across her left hand, immediately slicing through the knuckles of two fingers before catching on the third.
With a cry, she pulled her maimed hand off of the edge of his blade, eyeing her injured third digit with teeth bared in agony. Maximus opened his eyes, ignoring the frost growing across his face. He peered straight into the frigid gale for a single second, giving himself just long enough to aim for her throat. When he next swiped his sword over, he hit his mark, causing her to cease her spell, entirely, as she grabbed at her gurgling throat. Anya, better protected by her armour than Max was by his, more recklessly charged archer after archer, cutting them down one after the other. They tried to fire arrows through her Elven platemail, but none found purchase, not until Moira drew a shaft and fired.
Anya grunted as a second arrow finally broke through her armour, punching into her right hip. She looked over, face cold even as she panted through her mouth, the woman trying her best to pick out her assailant in the dark. When Svetlana unexpectedly threw some Magelight of her own into the arena, it was mere seconds before Anya spotted her enemy. There she was, maybe three dozen paces ahead, ebony arrow drawn tight on her steel-reinforced Forsworn bow: Moira herself, Bunny’s mother, Sun Eater’s wife, the clan wisewoman and shaman. She was a far older individual than much of the rest of the clan, her weathered face further twisted into a severe scowl of pure malice.
All of her lengthy hair had long gone silver, and an immense, intimidating burn scar covered her left shoulder, her throat, and the lower half of her face, turning her fair flesh a repulsive, wavy pink. She wore a fairly standard pelt tunic, although she also had on numerous pieces of apparently salvaged armour, given their mismatched makes and materials. Among them was a small cuirass of intricately engraved steel plate that conspicuously wrapped around only a narrow section of her chest, protecting the vital organs in her rib cage. On her left arm, the arm she held the frame of her bow with, she wore a long, dark green gauntlet, clearly fashioned from Orichalcum in the traditional Orcish make.
Over the face of her right thigh, she wore a piece of the fauld to a Dwarven breastplate, strapping the thick, golden plate of reflective metal to her limb through numerous leather sashes, each tied taut. On her legs from the knees down, she wore the steel cuffed boots and greaves of a Nord warrior, keeping her nimble of step in combat. Anya curled her lip up, barely pulling the first arrow from her side before Moira was firing another, landing it directly in the right side of Anya’s chest. The crudely shaped ebony tips were nonetheless potent enough to overpower the Moonstone of Anya’s armour, punching holes through the material until the toxin-coated tips could find her flesh and blood.
Anya was already charging when Moira was drawing her third arrow, baring her teeth in rage at the Altmer. Anya failed to feel the poison coursing through her veins until she had already reached Moira, the wisewoman unafraid to fire her third arow into her opponent even within arm’s reach of her. When Anya gave a vicious sweep of her sword for Moira’s head, the wisewoman instantly ducked, then lunged forward. Ramming the Dwarven plate over her right thigh straight into Anya’s leg, she managed to knock the soldier off-balance, throwing her leg out behind her and forcing her to stumble forwards in an attempt to regain her balance. Moira, sweeping past Anya’s side, snapped out a leg and stomped her foot into the rear side of Anya’s other knee, knocking the soldier straight down to her knees with a hard thud.
Anya had to grit her teeth, not out of pain, but out of defiance towards the poison she now felt in her body. Her muscles were growing heavier, stiffer, and the fog of sleep was abruptly threatening to consume her, even as her heart throbbed with agonizing intensity. Moira, standing over Anya from the rear, reached behind herself, pulling free a Glass dagger from a sheath hidden at the small of her back. She wasted no time in reaching over Anya’s shoulder, prompting the Altmer’s eyes to widen. In a flash, Anya had grabbed Moira’s arm with both hands, fighting her with all of her might, narrowly preventing the slit throat she had been about to receive. Moira grunted with frustration as she tried to pull, doing her best to push Anya’s head into the knife without letting go of her bow.

Without warning, Anya jammed a leg out behind her, falling forwards in the process. Her leg slammed into one of Moira’s, and with her hands gripping at Moira’s arm like a vise, the woman was pulled straight off of her feet, slamming down over Anya’s back with a rough grunt. Anya viciously pulled at Moira’s arm until she had slid the woman clear across her back, throwing her down to her own just in front of herself, leaving the human prone in the dirt. With a cold, wide-eyed look on her face, Anya silently twisted Moira’s arm and hand in a wristlock, trying to wrench the dagger from her grasp. Moira held firm and even lashed out at the soldier, throwing her other arm out until she crushed Anya straight over her left eye.
Anya’s strength was rapidly diminishing, but still, she mercilessly twisted Moira’s hand until she dislocated the woman’s wrist, throwing the dagger out of her hand. Her vision blurring, Anya drew in a breath and shouted Svetlana’s name, calling for aid as loudly as she could. Moira twisted against the ground until she was in a better position to wrench herself free. Finally, she pulled off an acrobatic move that Anya never would’ve seen coming: on all fours, minus her restrained arm, Moira tipped herself over until all of her weight was over the one arm, leaving herself coiled up in a tight, pseudo handstand. Without warning, she straightened herself out, brutally slamming the underside of one foot straight into Anya’s nose.
The donkey kick instantly broke Anya’s nose, sending a brief spurt of blood down through her nostrils. The stunning force of the attack forced Anya to let go of the writhing woman, but she was quick to chop out with her sword before herself, trying to protect herself even as tears blurred her vision, leaving her defenceless. Moira rolled over her shoulder, putting some distance between herself and Anya, dropping her bow in the process. Once she was up to her feet, she bared her teeth and turned to face Anya, grabbing her dislocated hand with the other. Without more than a second of hesitation, she twisted her hand back into place, realigning her limb back into the proper positioning.
She gave a faint, pained exhale, breathing heavily as she darted forward, racing for her dagger. In the background, Anya could hear Maximus shout “Sabrina, Bunny! Move up! Get to Gabby!” Moira paused, abandoning her dagger in exchange for her bow. Picking it up, she quickly drew another arrow from her quiver, utterly ignoring the still-blinded Anya as she tried to pick Max out of the fray. Roaring, herself, she shouted “Kill the Imperial giving orders! End him, already!” Anya lunged forward with a furious shout, sword poised to run Moira through the torso. Instantly, Moira pulled her bow to the side and let her arrow fly. The ebony shaft punched straight into Anya’s chest, precariously close to her heart.
The shock of it all was enough to slow Anya down, blood running into her mouth as she gave a hard, hacking cough. Moira gave a frustrated growl, raising a leg before shoving her foot into Anya’s stomach, nearly tipping the woozy soldier over as she went stumbling backwards. Curling her lip up, Moira knelt over in a flash, grabbing her Glass dagger as she venomously spat “Make peace with your gods, elf!” The footsteps racing towards the two of them from Anya’s rear became audible even before Moira tried her coup de grâce, holding her dagger up, ready to plunge it straight down into Anya’s forehead. Anya feebly raised her trembling sword to defend herself, yet before she even had to, Svetlana was sweeping around her, lashing out with her axe.
Moira was quick enough to pull her extended arm out of the way, but Svetlana’s assault was so furious that Moira had no choice but to distance herself, giving quick hops backwards to avoid Svetlana’s wild charge. Anya was quick to blurt out “Poison, Lana!” Svetlana never took her eyes off of Moira, but her jaw tightened at the words. She broke off her charge and rushed backwards, axe still at the ready. Anya was already hurriedly pulling free the two arrows still embedded in her body when Svetlana reached her, her free arm extended behind herself. Once she touched Anya, she cast Cure Poison upon her comrade, followed by a quick application of Heal Other.
Moira, visibly enraged at her advantage having been nullified, swiftly sheathed her dagger, pulled free another poisoned arrow, and notched it on her drawstring. Svetlana narrowed her eyes, thrusting her arm back in front of herself as she projected a Greater Ward, immediately preventing the crafty Breton from wasting the arrow. Anya, her strength no longer diminishing, took a more confident hold on her sword’s handle. Without words, Svetlana began charging, and Anya remained close behind her. Moira tried darting to the side, keen eyes aiming sharply down the shaft of her arrow, hoping to get just far enough to the side to slide the arrow past Svetlana’s Ward.
Instead, Anya fearlessly detached herself from Svetlana’s protection, closing the distance between herself and Moira in a brief sprint. Moira turned her bow upon Anya, but to her surprise, the soldier was quicker, chopping her sword straight into the frame of Moira’s bow, catching it on a section of exposed wood. The force of her swing knocked the bow straight out of her hands, but she was quick to reach behind herself, stumbling a step back as she unsheathed her dagger. In that exact moment, Svetlana was pressing the advantage, swinging her axe into Moira’s forearm as soon as the dagger came out. The bone-shattering force of the stone blade ramming into her arm knocked the dagger straight out of her grasp, sending it, too, to the dirt.
Before Moira could try to flee, Anya thrust her iron sword downwards. The Dwarven plate over Moira’s thigh prevented Anya from making the disabling strike she had intended on, but she obtained the same effect by jamming her sword straight into Moira’s knee, sliding in above her kneecap. The sheer pain of the injury was enough to make Moira go wide-eyed and scream, although she tried to maintain her composure by crushing her lips together and stifling the vocalization, even as the injury dropped her to her knee, making the agony all the worse. Anya pulled her sword free from Moira’s leg as she collapsed, then expertly draped the edge across Moira’s throat, ready to spill her open and finish the fight.
Svetlana had a more sadistic idea, in mind. She tried leaning in and reaching around Moira, hoping to pull free one of her poisoned arrows. Nothing would suit Moira more than to have one of her own poisoned arrows plunged into her heart, ensuring a swift, painful death, all at the hands of her own concoction. Instead, however, Moira fought on to the bitter end. Anya reached over and grabbed Svetlana’s shoulder in the nick of time, pulling the other woman back just as Moira wildly thrust her dagger upwards, very nearly plunging it straight into Svetlana’s stomach. The distraction gave Moira half a chance to escape, which she desperately made use of.
With their eyes off of her, the wisewoman rolled backwards over her shoulder, getting herself away from Anya’s blade, but when she landed back down on her knees, the torture of crushing her injured kneecap only made her scream and collapse, falling face-first into the dirt. Anya wasted no further time, not even to honour her opponent. A cold look on her face, she pitilessly executed the woman, giving her little more than a dog’s death. Standing over Moira, she plunged her sword down into the woman’s back, impaling her through the torso. When the blade broke through her armour and passed through her heart, Moira swiftly locked up with a choked gasp. When Anya pulled the blade back out, Moira gave a light jerk, then went still. The blood poured from under Moira’s fur tunic, spilling into the dirt. Another veteran of the attack on Markarth, the acting commander of this last stand, had been slain.
Shortly after ordering Bunny and Sabrina on to find Gabriella, Maximus quickly took stock of the situation while Svetlana’s Magelight was still illuminating the battlefield, picking out how many of the Forsworn remained. Most of the archers had been slain, leaving what could’ve only been a handful of men and women, scattered and disorganized by the enemy’s charge. The Frost Maidens, on the other hand, had been trimmed down to three or four individuals, equally disorganized and evidently waiting for their pools of Magicka to replenish themselves after the bout of frantic combat.
Max’s eyes wandered until he found her, busy staring at the fallen form of Moira. The woman was visibly older than the rest, with silver hair pulled back into a high ponytail. The vivid blue tattoos covering almost her entire face set her apart from the less experienced Frost Maidens, and her garb was complemented by several pieces of iron gear, clearly marking her as someone of import. Besides the usual fur bra and loincloth that most Forsworn women wore, this older woman, whose body was clearly still as toned as any warrior’s, wore a pair of iron gauntlets as well as greaves and boots, a couple different thick necklaces of bone hanging loose over her chest.
When Max spotted her silver hair, he started smiling. Holding his sword steady with both hands, he began rushing towards her. He barely noticed when the two Frost Maidens at the woman’s side actually retreated, realizing they were defenceless without their Magicka to protect them. The elder Frost Maiden, however, spotted Maximus approaching and immediately bared her clenched teeth in a furious snarl, her eyes widening in blind rage. The pale blue glow of Frost Magicka disappeared from her right hand as she shot it behind herself, and when she had brought it back around, she was now brandishing a silver dagger, the plain length of metal wrapped around the handle with leather to afford her a proper grip.
Maximus just gave a bloodthirsty laugh, raising his sword up higher as he came close enough. She tried to back up and dodge his swipe, but he threw his sword down with greater range than she had anticipated, slicing her clean across her left shoulder to the center of her chest, unintentionally cutting one of the straps to her fur bra, forcing the garment to fall open from one breast. The woman gave a subdued grunt in pain and, contrary to Max’s expectation, did not continue her retreat. Instead, she tried to nullify the advantage that his sword’s length gave him, ramming her uninjured shoulder straight into his chest, momentarily locking the two of them against one another. With one arm, she grabbed the crossguard to his sword, fighting him for control, trying to keep the flat of the blade harmlessly pressed to her side, preventing him from using it.
The icy chill of the Frost Magicka still sitting ready in the palm of her hand cooled Max’s fingers, making the handle of his weapon nip at his skin. He felt the woman’s other arm shift and, without warning, a blinding flash of pain erupted through his back, exploding throughout his abdomen. With an angry shout in his throat, he shoved the woman away, forcing her to let go of the dagger embedded in his back, pierced through his scalemail. Before Max had even reached behind himself to pull the dagger back out, the woman was thrusting her arm towards his face, unleashing a gout of Frostbite. She had barely struck him with the Magicka for more than two seconds before he had dropped his sword, reached out, and grabbed her wrist.
He pulled as hard as he could, yanking the woman over, her breathing escalating into panting. His eyelids temporarily glued shut by a frozen layer of his own ocular fluid, his face flush red thanks to the cold, he snapped out a leg as he pulled her over, slamming his foot into the side of her knee. She fell like a sack of bricks, grunting as she hit the ground over her back. Max mercilessly dropped to a knee right over the center of her chest, causing the woman to lock up and spasm as not only the wind was knocked from her lungs, but as a couple ribs cracked beneath the sudden collapse of the full weight of his body. Bringing up his other knee, he followed up by forcing her arm down against it the wrong way, snapping her arm back at the elbow.
The woman finally screamed, sucking in a deep breath before wailing it back out. Max’s eyelids began to open back up, again, as he reached his other arm behind himself, grabbing the dagger she had left in his back. As he jerked it back out of his body, spittle began to bubble up from her mouth, the woman panting through clenched teeth as she gave him a burning glare. “F...Fucker!” She gasped out, just before thrusting up her free arm, more Frost Magicka billowing in between her fingers. Max immediately grabbed the arm and slashed her dagger deep across the underside, digging deep between the bones of her forearm. The Magicka swiftly disappeared from her hand, and as the limb limply flopped back down to the ground, Max finished her off. He was less than humane about it.
When he left her behind, her own dagger violently protruding from her nasal cavity, he was confident that he had slain yet another veteran of the attack on Markarth, all those years ago. Instead of mopping up the remaining Forsworn, he left them to Anya and Svetlana, and instead began racing up the rest of the valley, making for the ascent. Over the sound of his feet pounding into the frost-covered grass, he could hear Bunny shouting, the diminutive Breton finding the strength to furiously roar out “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, anymore! I’m not afraid of any of you!”
The blazing glow of Sun Eater’s Flame Cloak had faded. Seconds before Maximus reached the top of the brooding grounds and entered the Hagraven’s clearing, a bright flash of light popped across the area, accompanied by the sharp boom of thunder. When the light flooded the area, Maximus saw Sun Eater, standing about a dozen meters towards his right side, facing the rise towards the brooding grounds. In that split-second, he couldn’t discern where Sun Eater was looking, but he didn’t think the man was looking for him. Perhaps the voice of his prodigal daughter had stirred something in the Briarheart, captivating his attention. Maximus couldn’t be sure.
When Maximus reached the top of the incline, the smell of burning hair and cooked leather began to seep into his nostrils. In the gloom, he could make out the shapes of several bodies on the ground, but it was too dark for him to make out who they belonged to. When Felix the Briarheart heard someone racing into the brooding grounds, he threw out orbs of Magelight, tossing them out from either hand, casting them towards his left and right sides. Maximus briefly winced at the intensity of the lights, but he wasted no time in looking around the area. To the left and right sides, massive thickets of thorned vines grew wild, lining the base of the mountain walls, decorated in numerous spots with the bloodstained antlers of wild elk.
On the far side of the brooding grounds, at the rear section that Gabriella had snuck in from, there was a bizarre stone construct, one which Maximus had never seen the likes of, before. It was easily around a dozen feet tall, overall. It appeared to be a monument of sorts, although the object it depicted was nonsensical to Maximus, little more than a sort of homunculus. It had been shaped out of crudely hewn blocks of a dark, granite-like stone, unpolished and rough. A base had been made by stacking the blocks together, and by alternating between vertical and horizontal positions, the blocks had grown upwards into the approximation of a human being’s form. Numerous additional blocks had been stacked towards the homonculi’s left and right sides, creating short walls that turned the monument into more of a nest.
An enchanting table, as well as an alchemy bench, were positioned inside the small clearing before the monument, alongside three heaving piles of hay, presumably the bedding to the three Hagravens. When Maximus’ eyes roamed the center of the clearing, he quickly spotted the three corpses of the resident Hagravens, lying in small puddles of their own blood. When his eyes landed over the smouldering figure towards the left, his eyes subtly widened. There she lay, unmoving, her armour charred and smoking. The blood-soaked dagger in her hand hung loosely from her fingers, on the verge of slipping free from her limp hold. In an instant, the Imperial was seeing red.
Max’s body visibly tensed up as his eyes shifted to Felix, his brow furrowing as his hold on his bloody sword tightened. Slowly, his jaw tightened. Time seemed to slow as his peripheral vision lost focus, transforming his stare into tunnel vision. He wasn’t afraid of the Briarheart, but if Gabriella needed aid...Felix stared back for naught but a couple seconds, seemingly waiting for Maximus to make a move, before Max felt someone step in close, behind him. A soft voice whispered “Go,” and he instantly complied, racing towards Gabby’s prone form. Felix started to smirk, a nonverbal taunt which slowly grew into a full-blown grin. He raised his hands by his chest, electricity exploding into life in the palms of his hands.
Without warning, a figure abruptly appeared out of thin air, standing squarely between the Briarheart and the Imperial. Felix went stiff, for a second. An opponent who could cast Invisibility? His grin withered when he saw the Shock Magicka filling Sabrina’s hands, the voluptuous sorceress standing tall in her wrecked dress, a fearless combatant of his own stripe and caliber, silently daring him to a duel of wills and sorcery. A tense silence filled the area for a good, long moment, with Felix and Sabrina simply staring each other down, gauging each other’s capabilities. Each waited for their dangerous opponent to make a move, neither wanting to underestimate the other by leaving themselves open.
Sabrina’s heart raced in her ears, throbbing on either side of her head. She stalled for time until Maximus had reached Gabriella, and then, without warning, she darted towards her right side. Flicking her right hand close to her hips, she cast a Lightning Bolt straight for Felix, sending the tumultuous lance of electricity straight for his abdomen. He ducked low in the same instant that she moved and ran towards his own right, narrowly avoiding her spell. The Lightning Bolt she had cast struck the earth behind him with such earth-shuddering intensity that it tore the ground upon impact, ripping open a fist-sized hole in the dirt before firing the detritus up into the air.
Felix responded in kind with an angry shout, throwing a thick lance of pure lightning in her direction. He came within inches of catching her side, but ultimately, he missed, and the Lightning Bolt shot past Sabrina’s hip, firing off into the sky. Sabrina came to a very sudden stop, then ran in the opposite direction, racing towards her left while moving closer towards Felix, hoping to keep him focused on her and not Maximus, now closer to Felix than before. Felix’s attention remained locked entirely on their duel, and he, too, swerved in the opposite direction as before, evidently unafraid of engaging Sabrina in hand-to-hand combat, should the two come close enough to clash.
When Maximus reached Gabriella, he immediately dropped to a knee by her side, touching the side of her face, turning her head towards him. Quietly, hurriedly, he spoke her name and patted her cheek, checking to see if she were still conscious. She didn’t respond. His jaw tightened, his throat visibly tensing as he swallowed. She had mild burns on large sections of her face, and much of her hair had been singed. Her leather armour was cooked, turned black from some raging inferno. Worse of all, however, was the bloody pit in her stomach, a hole the size of his fist that had been violently torn through her armour. A horrific gash, thick and round, had been stabbed into her abdomen, as if someone had tried to impale her with a pole. The flesh around the injury was burnt, and while some of the injury appeared to have been cauterized by whatever had struck her, it still oozed blood at an alarmingly steady rate.
“Gabby...Gabby, c’mon, say something...” Max quietly urged. He slipped an arm beneath her head, lifting her head up off of the ground until he could take her shoulders from the frosty grass, as well. He glanced up, making sure Felix was preoccupied with Sabrina, and likewise Sun Eater with Bunny. Raising his eyebrows, he looked back down at her and added “Don’t be calling it quits on me yet, not at this point...We’ve come too far, for that. Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t take chances? What happened, huh?” A moment passed. He spied her eyes lightly shift under her eyelids, and then she was softly groaning, sharply whimpering out of pain.
He smiled, a little chuckle drifting out of him. As her eyelids flittered and opened, he leaned in close, whispering something into her ear. She smiled widely and gave a chuckle, which quickly became another harsh groan of pain. Weakly, she warbled “Is that a fact? Oh, gods, urgh, don’t make me laugh!...Azura, it feels like a bear took a bite out of my stomach...” When Max raised his head back up, she was gazing up into his eyes. He could practically see his own face reflected in her big, crimson eyes, her placid smile lingering intact as she ventured to ask “How do I look? As bad as I feel, right now?” Raising one eyebrow a little higher, Max agreeably said “Uh, well, put it this way...It’s a damn good thing you’re a Dunmer, or else these burns would’ve been a whole lot worse. Just hold on until Lana gets to you, okay? She should be getting up here, soon.”
“So, I look like shit, then,” she dryly remarked, raising her eyebrows back at him. He gave a little chuckle, stroking his thumb across her cheek. “No more than usual,” he retorted, which earned a prompt “Bastard” from the Mer. A weak grin came onto his face as he laconically remarked “You told me no risks.” Gabby blinked, dew collecting at the corners of her eyes. “I thought you were in trouble,” she answered. He gave another chuckle, which made her smile. Looking deep into her eyes, he reassuringly said “Just stay put, okay? I’ve gotta go deal with the guy who did this to you, but Lana’ll be here, soon. You did a good job, so you better be there for the celebration. Just take a breather, you’ve put in enough work, for one fight.”
“Yeah, sure feels like it,” she remarked, audibly fighting back a chortle. He smiled, but before he could reply, she added “It wasn’t Sun Eater. The other one.” Max gave a nod of understanding. One hand still to her cheek, he leaned over and pressed his lips to her’s. She kissed him back with surprising strength, briefly closing her eyes. When their lips parted, she whispered something against his mouth, which only made him grin. “Just hang in there,” he answered, gently easing her shoulders back down to the ground. He rested the back of her head down on the grass, the woman looking up and watching him the entire time, an untroubled look to her. He stood up, grabbed his sword, and turned around, eyes shifting to Felix. This was the second time a Briarheart had incapacitated his Dunmer lover. The outcome would be precisely the same.
Bunny drew another arrow, pouring the last of her poison over the tip. She notched it, drew tight, and fired, but again, her father seemed to anticipate exactly where it was in the air, a quick sidestep preventing him from enduring the intended injury. Bunny’s jaw clenched with frustration. Boldly striding towards him from her position in the shadows, she drew another arrow and fired, but yet again, he avoided it. She ventured a third, but it came to the same useless result. Finally, Bunny was stepping out of the darkness, entering the glow of Felix’s many Magelight orbs. When father and daughter met eyes, they never broke contact, openly glaring at each other with the wrath of lifelong enemies.
Bunny came to a stop, her arms hanging at her sides, her Glass bow clutched in her left hand. Sun Eater’s long, wild hair was accompanied by an equally thick, unruly beard, the man’s mouth just about hidden under the long, brown hairs. Wicked black tattoos stretched across his face, like blade scars. His once-green eyes had gone brown and foggy, glazed like a dead animal’s, a sad development made all the worse by the vivid dark circles around either eye. With clear outrage, she let her eyes dip to the poorly-stitched hole in his chest, then snapped “What have you done to yourself? Was it all worth it? You really wanted to take back Markarth that badly?”
“Silence, child. Everything you say, everything you do, just goes to show how little like us you always were,” Sun Eater remarked back, brow furrowing deep as he raised a hand and chopped through the air, gesturing for her to shut her mouth. “You always had so much growing up to do, so much maturing and learning to do. At least your sister understood our cause.” “Straight’s dead. I killed her,” Bunny interjected, eyes widening as her brow sank back at him, just as deeply. Sun Eater gave a slow blink, and after a second of a pause, Bunny angrily added “And, I’m not a child, anymore. Don’t talk to me like I’m just a little kid, you can’t push me around, anymore. What sort of father were you? You were happy to make me miserable! I’ve learned more from Maximus over the last month than I learned from you in the last ten years, combined!”
“You little shit. How dare you. What sort of father was I?” Sun Eater repeated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous mutter. His eyes narrowing, he lightly turned his head to the side. When now he spoke, he roared, his voice booming as it echoed across the valley. “I was a realistic father! I was the leader of a clan whose people had had their culture raped, their land stolen from them by a kingdom of arrogant, inbred snow-backs! What did you expect me to do, coddle you? This is what I mean, you always were a child, everything was always about Bunny and her feelings!” “My name is Tiger!” Bunny indignantly roared back, baring her teeth in rage.
Sun Eater seemed to ignore her. “I raised you the way you needed, the way we all need! I was harsh, I expected the best of you, the same way all of us are raised in the Reach - and it was too much, for you! I was harsh because I had to be, I expected the best because that’s the only way we become strong enough to survive, to have a chance of taking our kingdom back! The others understood that, and that’s why they treated you like a spoiled brat!” At this, Sun Eater’s tone turned decidedly belittling. “But, it was all too hard for Bunny to understand, it hurt her feelings too much, she wanted pats on the back for every little thing she was demanded to do, wanted constant feet-kissing just for existing! You sickened us all, that’s why you were treated the way you were! You were the overgrown baby of the clan, always pissing and whining, never trying to actually prove herself and make herself useful!”
With an unsettling chill, Bunny snapped back “I have a new clan, now, and I’ve proven myself to them. That clan has just about wiped out your’s. Who’s really the weak one, here?” Sun Eater’s hands clenched into fists by his sides, his face going dark with murderous intent. Bunny briefly arched her eyebrows, twisting the proverbial knife by adding “I’m an adult, now. Nothing you say can change that. I’ve proven myself to my clan, and my new name is Tiger. You’re just the leader of a dead people. You’re already nothing but a corpse, yourself, anyway. Why not just lie down with the rest of them?”
Sun Eater’s nostrils flared for a split-second before he abruptly threw his arm up, tossing a surprise Fireball in Bunny’s direction. Just as quickly, a writhing, navy glow appeared around Bunny’s body like an aura, and when her father’s Fireball erupted against her, her Dragonskin completely absorbed and nullified the Magicka. Tongues of blue light popped off around Bunny’s body as her inborn strength saved her from the exploding flames, and without hesitation, she began marching even closer towards her father, drawing another arrow on her bow. She loosed it faster this time, striking before he knew the attack was coming. Finally, she landed another blow, this time dangerously close to his replacement heart.
Sun Eater didn’t give her a chance to insult him with yet another arrow. He barrelled towards Bunny in a rush, and the young woman was momentarily stupefied, not thinking quickly enough in the available second she had to know how to react. When her father reached her, he backhanded her Glass bow out of her hands, sending it to the dirt with an annoyed snarl. Bunny could barely gasp and stumble back a step before his other arm was shooting out, grabbing her by the throat in a crushing vise of a grip. Her eyes bulged out as the pressure in her head mounted, and as he displayed his unnatural strength by lifting her up off of her feet, practically turning his grip into a noose around her neck, she flailed and kicked at him, trying to pull herself off of his hand.
Gritting her teeth, her eyes barely open, she desperately tried to pry his fingers open from around her throat, but the burly man’s fist was able to reach nearly all the way around to the nape of her neck. Sun Eater glared up at her with wide-eyed rage, baring his teeth as he snapped “What happened, “Tiger?” Where’s all that strength you were bragging about? All I see is the same coward that could never swing an axe to save her life - literally, in this case!” The realization that this was as much an attack as it was a way to display his dominance made Bunny’s brow furrow, her eyes screwing shut. She kicked at him, trying to stomp one foot into his face, trying to jab the other into his heart cavity. Eventually, with another growl of annoyance, he slapped her legs away, then grabbed and pinned her ankles together.
Bunny’s face was already beginning to go pale from the lack of circulation to her head when a mighty boom filled the air, around them. Bunny felt Sun Eater’s hands open up around her neck and ankles as he gave a shuddering shout of pain, Bunny collapsing a couple feet before landing on her legs, nervelessly collapsing down to her rump before she caught herself. She looked up with wide eyes, her mouth hanging agape as she witnessed her father convulsing, his arms twitching in the air as electricity coursed through his body. His teeth clenching tight enough that his gums were going pallid, the ends of some of his hair began igniting before the electricity had finally passed through his system, ultimately leaving him standing there, panting, a large section on the right side of his torso charred black from the unexpected Lightning Bolt.
Other than that brief agony, he had survived the sneak attack, enduring a blast potent enough to slay most mortals. Bunny’s eyes darted to the side. Sabrina was staring at Sun Eater, but it lasted only a second before she was turning her attention back to Felix, rejoining Maximus in the battle. Bunny’s eyes shot back to her father before her lips settled into a hard line. Reaching behind herself with both hands, she pulled two arrows from her quiver, one in each hand. She jumped back up to her feet, panting to catch her breath, brandishing her arrows like short swords. She was about to lunge in and stab Sun Eater in the abdomen with her arrows when she noticed that he had recovered. With an intent glare, he advanced towards her.
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The Forsworn Retribution