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"Sir stormcloaks approaching-""

Lorgar cut off the soldier,

"I see them..."

There was three of them, two males flanking a female. They wore standard issue armor, the two males bore two-handed swords, while the leader bore a one-handed axe. Lorgar signaled his men too take cover in the nearby bushes, Lorgar himself was crouched, whispering silently to his soldiers,

"Kill the two soldiers, I want the leader alive if possible..."

"Yes sir..."

The stormcloaks arrived at the tree-line and entered the glade, the female spoke up,

"Boy's spread out..."

"Yes Ma'am-

The stormcloak never had a chance to finish his sentence, due to an arrow piercing his throat, and the second stormcloak was felled with an arrow to the chest moment's afterword. Before the leader could even react, a half dozen bows were pointing at her. Lorgar, obviously triumphant approached the female stormcloak,

"I advise you to surrender lass..."

Before she could respond, one of his soldiers shouted,

"SIR Do'jhul has been subdued and-

Lorgar wasted no time, he drew his great bow and approached the tree-line, he narrowed his vision and saw the Khajit being lead away with some sort of ice collar by the stormcloak forces, one of his soldiers said,

"Sir you cant fire from that-

Lorgar drew a massive steel tipped arrow from his quiver, whispered some words that his men couldn't understood, and fired at the nearest target, while howling a three note tune, meaning "I'll get you out". 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Baldur
 

The sound was like a thousand blades being grinded at the same time, except louder. Baldur thought the Imperials launched some kind of spell, but saw that the khajiit was being affected too. Baldur fell to his knees as did everyone else, and could barely make out Witchie with a crystal in his hands walking towards them, due to the sound blurring his vision from the intensity of it. He then proceeded to put a frozen collar around the khajiit's neck from his stalhrim blade. Baldur was about to say something, but thought better of it. Witchie couldn't have known the cat gave up just now, so he let it go.

Baldur got up to his feet, barely and looked around to count the casualties. There were about seven of the soldiers dead from the cat, two from friendly fire and the rest knocked on their butts from Witchie's spell. And of course there's Reval finally waking up now. So all around 10 casualties. Nine killed, and 1 injured. Not as bad as he thought. They took some time, but the other soldiers eventually got up as well. Baldur ordered them to collect their dead, and to help lift the cat and take him into the fort's prison area for later questioning. After the dead were collected, and Reval was taken to get patched up, Baldur began to walk his way back into the fort. The Necro Nords ran out of the fort to see what was wrong with the men when they all dropped down in agony, and Baldur explained that Witchie had sprang his trap. The rookies started telling them about their Captain's bravery.

"Man, it was amazing! The Captain stood as though he were Ysgramor himself in front of that Khajiit!"

"Yes, we saw that from the gate," said the Necro Nord. "Did we hear singing by the way?"

The recruit laughed. "Ha, that was the best part! He started singing while he got ready to fight that bastard! Our Captain is a warrior bard. Captain, how did that song go?"

Baldur was absolutely floating from all the praise. Baldur began to sing the song and the men started cheering in response. Baldur couldn't have been happier at this moment. He added in some more lines to make it sound better for the men. They'd need a morale boost after what the Khajiit did. Baldur was about to give an encoure when suddenly a Necro Nord dropped dead in front of him. The men ducked and raised their shields when they saw the arrow protruding from his head. We started darting all around but couldn't see anything. Then we heard what sounded like a wolf cry coming from the direction of the forest. Baldur looked by some trees and saw a huge Nord with an axe on his back pointing right for him with a bow. His men raised their swords, but Baldur ordered them to get back to the fort.

"It's an assassin, don't worry about him! Just get that dead soldier to the fort, and raise your shields."

Baldur started back to the fort with his men when he felt something pierce his right shoulder. He reached for his back and felt the arrow sticking into it. The arrow cut right through his Captain issued light armor. The chainmail under it did little to stop the piercing of the arrow. Baldur felt his strength fading quickly. His mouth grew dry, and then suddenly wet again, the taste of blood wetting his tongue almost as if in immediate response to his dry mouth. He dropped to his knees and saw himself lifted off of the ground as he was picked up by one of his troops. Last thing he saw was his blood upon the snow just before he passed out. Baldur started chuckling at the sight in pain.

"Hehe, how...ironic. Baldur Red-Snow." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Witch-king (aka Witchie)
Fort Neugrad
Afternoon

The captain had just been hit by an arrow in his shoulder. He ordered the men to retreat back into the fort but Witchie did not follow them. He jumped down the wall and stood besides the gateway, out of sight for anyone on the outside. Reached for the last magicka crystal in his robe. And started to charge the summoning spell.

This is going take it's toll.

He stepped out into the gateway and realesed the spell. He felt as all of the magical and physical energy disappeared from his body as the great beast before him took shape. The beast had the basic shape of a werewolf but it was twice as large and the fur had the same color as ice. It was a twisted creature made up from both unholy flesh and ice. A creature from Hircines realm, the Hunting Grounds contained a climate from every place a predator may roam. From deep djungels to snow drenched mountaintops to deep seas. This was a creature from the coldest parts of this realm. The very air around went cold as the beast let out a fierce howl and then swiftly ran off towards the assassin's direction.
But it wasn't a spell that was used lightly as Witchie felt his vision blurr and his very body shaking. He slowly stumbled back behind the wall and fell down against it. He could hear beasts roar and soldiers screams of horror fade as he drifted from consciousness.

Now you face a real wolf...

And everything went black. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Lorgar Grim-Maw, Rebec
Near Fort Neugrad
Noon
 

"SIR what the fuck is that thing?!" The thing that was charging us, appeared to be a lycantropy, similar to a werewolf, but twisted, an abomination.

"Get the fuck out of here NOW, tell tribune Brutus what happened, i'll cover you!!!"

The various legionaries were about to voice there protest of leaving their legate to the mercy of whatever that thing was, but a viscous glare from Lorgar was more then enough for the men to turn around and begin to run. Before that he ordered his men to to quickly bind there prisoner, he turned towards the Nordic captive " Lassie your choice, go with my men willingly, or try your luck with that thing..."

"You mean that thing isn't one of yours?!" Rebec shouts at Lorgnar. There isn't much time to debate, and with her escort gone and the fort busy with its own problems, she allows herself to be bundled off with the imperials. Beasts and mages, that's surely elven work, she thinks along with a few choice curses. Still, going with the imperials could present opportunities. The sailor is always an optimist. Admittedly, the entire situation doesn't call for a lot of optimism, however. 

Some of the legionaries, still reluctant and wanting to fight beside there officer, saluted Lorgar,

"Sir it was an honor..."

"On the contrary, the honor was mine soldier"

Lorgar saluted, and turned to face the incoming abomination,

Lorgar unslung Bylderfang from his back and slowly started to advance on whatever that thing was , while shouting his units motto,

"We are the fang's of Mede, hear me HOWL" 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Captain Baldur Red-Snow
Location unknown
Night


Baldur woke up in a grass field staring at a magnificent display of stars. He didn't remember at first what happened, but then the events came rushing back into his head. He got up immediately to check his wound, and found that it was not there.

"Did Witchie heal my wound or something? Where the hell are my men?"

He looked around and noticed that a Necro Nord was beside him, unconscious. Baldur shaked him until he too came out of his rest. The soldier asked where he was, and Baldur said he was not sure. The place was not an area of Skyrim that he recognized. The men got up and began make their way down the valley. The place had large stone figures in hoods looking down on them as they walked on. Baldur's eyes were transfixed by the display in the sky. He had never seen such an awesome aurora in Skyrim before.

"Have you ever seen a sight so beautiful in your life, soldier?"

"No sir."

As Baldur gazed on, the soldier put his arm in front of him, and told him to stop. Baldur looked down, and saw why. In the distance were some imperial legion soldiers. About ten of them, and they all appeared to be Nords. Baldur was eager to get some payback, as was his soldier. The men appeared to be surrounding someone, but Baldur couldn't get a good look at who it was. All he could see was blue. It was one of his men! Baldur and the soldier wasted no time. They sneaked up to the crowd of men by going around a small hill, then they gave their battle cries, and charged downwards, using the momentum to crash into the men, taking them off guard. The Necro Nord was wielding two Nordic Carved war axes, and had a Nordic carved shield on his back. He spun in a circle like a humanoid typhoon and slit two imperial throats before they could unsheathe their weapons. Baldur burried his war axe into one man's cranium, and used the shield to quickly knock the head off of the blade. The other men simply ran in the other direction afraid for their lives. A man knocked on the ground was yelling at the others to come back.

"Hey! Stop running! There's no need to be afraid!"

Baldur put his large Nord boot on his head, and told the man they had every reason to be afraid, as he was about to show him. 

"You don't seem to understand, this is S-"

Baldur cut him off by stomping his brains out into the grass. He wasn't in the mood to hear [censored] in an attempt to have his life spared. Baldur was out for blood. When Baldur was done scraping the man's grey matter off of his shoe, the Nord was standing by the Stormcloak on the ground, and Baldur went to see who it was.

"Sir, does he look familiar to you?"

Baldur couldn't believe his eyes at first, but the man on the ground looked like the Nord that was killed by the Khajiit! The same one that he made an example of, and ended up being made a meat shield for the cat. Baldur couldn't comprehend what this meant. He started to feel wobbly and his vision began to fade. The Necro Nord thought he was going to pass out. Baldur began to breathe increasingly fast, and his heart rate began to rise.

"Where the hell are we?!?" 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Captain Baldur Red-Snow
Location Unknown
Night


Baldur had shaken the Nord until he woke up, as he had done to the Necro Nord. The man started screaming in pain as if he was still being brutalized by that Khajiit. When he settled down, he turned to the Captain, his eyes wild and wide open in confusion.

"Wha, wasn't I dead? I felt the warhammer, and..."

Baldur stayed silent. He had an idea of where they were, but he didn't want to believe it. None of them did. The Imperial they just killed appeared behind them and confirmed what they all were thinking.

"You're in sacred territory. You are in Sovngarde."

They all span around so fast from being startled, that they even scared the legionnaire. They were all speechless at the sight of the Nord appearing out of nowhere. Especially after he just got brutalized. Baldur didn't want to believe he could die so soon and so easily. Baldur apologized to the Nord recruit for getting him killed, and the Nord reassured him and said it was an honor to serve. He looked to the Necro Nord, and suddenly recognized who he was. He looked to the soldier and took off his helmet and realized he was the one that was put down by that arrow. The Necro Nord asked the Captain how he died, and Baldur explained what happened. Baldur asked is that how he suddenly came back to life, and the Nord legionnaire told him what he tried to explain to the others, which was that they cannot die in this place. He then told them that he felt the call to Shor's Hall, and was headed that way with his men before they ambushed them. Baldur gave no apology. They may be both Nords, but he was still his enemy in his eyes. The Imperial said that would soon change once they had an eternity to make up. Baldur wasn't excited like his companions were to see Shor and his hall. Baldur did not wish to die before he proved himself. He felt that he did not deserve to be here.

The men pressed on to Shor's hall when they heard screams of agony and despair further on. Baldur and his companions ran ahead to see what the commotion was and was greeted with a sight that froze them in their tracks. It was the greatest thing Baldur had ever seen. It was a huge magnificent hall with walls of stone, and doors that only the mightiest of men could ever hope to open. They could feel the glow of light from the inside glowing from the windows beckoning them to enter, but the never ending waterfall just below it seemed to taunt them, and challenge their courage. The only access to the other side was a mighty and treacherous bridge made of the bones of a large animal. Maybe a whale. The thought of crossing such a bridge over such a fall sent chills down Baldur's spine, but the hall of Valor would be worth it.

"Unending food and all the mead I can drink for eternity!"

Baldur almost completely forgot about his mortal problems at the thought. His mouth began to moisten when images of ox heads and roast began to fill his mind. And he could practically taste the sweet strong taste of heavenly mead coating his throat as he lets it pass between his lips. The sound of another man screaming quickly snapped him out of it. Below them was yet another scene of wonder. A large hearty Nord twice the size of an ordinary man was laying waste to the Legion men they had encountered earlier. The man gave a huge cry and swung his battleaxe around his head and batted away another one of the men like they were nothing. This Nord clearly possessed immense strength. The last two men gave everything they had, and the giant man swung his axe and decapitated both men in one swing.

"Try again." Said the large being that guarded the bridge.

Baldur knew who he was. It was the legendary Tsun, shield thane of Shor. Baldur would once again have the chance to prove himself after all. They made their way down the hill into Tsun's direction. Tsun noticed them, and made his way towards the crowd. His great big muscles rippled and seemed to bulge with every movement he made. The only armor he wore protected his legs and groin in the form of a skirt plated with metal. His entire back, arms and chest lay exposed. The rippling of his arms would suggest that his skin was every bit as strong as armor.

"So, will you all be fighting me in a group, or will you try your luck in one on one battle?"

"You and me Tsun. One on one."

Baldur unsheathed his axe and shield and prepared himself for battle. Tsun looked at him disapprovingly, and said, "You are not yet ready." 

Baldur got angry at this and demanded that he let him show he was ready. Tsun stomped the ground and let out a shout that sounded like thunder into the sky. The power resonating from it froze him in his tracks.

"You do not understand. You are not yet of this world, warrior. You are not ready to join the land of the dead. You must go. Your men can stay."

Baldur couldn't believe it. Now that he wanted to be dead and stay, he could not go. Tsun told him not to worry. There would be a place for him in Sovngarde once his trial on Nirn was complete, and his amount of days had ran out. The Necro Nord stepped forward and proclaimed his challenge. One on one combat. Tsun accepted, and told him to come. Before he did, he put his hand on Baldur's shoulder.

"Sir, you are a worthy warrior, and I am proud to have served you. I want you to have my armor and weapons when you return to the land of the living. The men will not object. It is custom for us to give our armor to another warrior anyway due to the expense of the gear. The armor is only given to those who are deemed worthy. You sir, are worthy to join our ranks. The men I'm sure will agree."

The Necro Nord held his hand out and Baldur grasped his arm from the inside at the joint as the Nord did the same to his. After that, Tsun bid Baldur farewell, and unleashed a mighty thu'um that sent him back to the land of the living.

Baldur woke up in a bed staring at stone. He was back in the fort. Immediately he felt the pain in his shoulder from the arrow, and saw hat his upper body was patched up and covered in bandage rags. He remembered everything that happened with almost perfect clarity, but he wondered if what he saw was real.

"Was I dreaming, or did I really visit the land of our sacred dead?" 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Lorgar Grim-maw
Outside Fort Neugrad
Afternoon

The icy wolf charged Lorgar as he prepared a mighty swing at the great beast. But the swing missed as the beast dodged to the right and knocked him back with backside of it's paw. Lorgar flew through the air and tumbled around when he landed on the ground before regaining the balance and finally landing on all four. The beast was also down on all four as it circled and growled at him.

The beast roared as it started charging, Lorgar had just gotten back on his two legs. But the beast was already upon him. It jumped at him with it's big foul jaws aiming for his head. Lorgar managed to get his axe up and block the jaws with the handle. he fell backwards with the beast on top of him, the handle between it's jaws snapping only inches from his face. Lorgar could feel the cold breath from the beast. It smelled like rotten flesh. Lorgar gathered his strength and threw the beast to the side using the axe as leverage. It tumbled around before landing on all four and started to circle and growl yet again.

Lorgar was quickly back on his feet, while wolf was still regaining the balance, readied his axe and howled at the beast in an attempt to mock it.
The wolf charged again. This time he knew what he should do. He readied the axe in mighty swing as wolf closed in. When the wolf was close enough he swung the axe in great spin, the beast tried to dodge. The first swing missed but when Lorgar spinned the axe around him hitting the wolf from the very direction it tried to dodge to. The axe hit the beast in left shoulder, the sound of ice breaking came from where the axe landed. The wolf howled in pain as it instinctively slashed at Lorgar with it's right claws. The claws hit across the chest scratching his armor, leaving deep claw marks. Lorgar quickly shoved the other end of the axe into the beasts face so hard it turned around with face away from him. With the beast's back exposed he raised his axe. But he never got a shance to deal the blow as the wolf kicked him in the stomach so hard had to bend over. The beast swiftly turned around to face him with it's right paw raised. Lorgar managed to raise his axe to parry the blow. But as the claws hit the axe so did the axe get ripped out of his hands and it flew away to land a couple of yards away. With nothing but his hands left he rammed his right fist in an uppercut into the jaws of the beast. More sound of ice breaking.

The wolf grabbed him at the shoulders with both it's "hands", raising him into air with his face close to the beast's. The wolf stared into him with big light blue eyes. Lorgar roared at the beast with all his voice could muster. But the beast roared back at him with a deafening intensity. He could feel and smell the cold foul breath of the beast yet again. As the beast was about to finish it's roar and close the jaws around his head, he kicked with both his feet into the stomach of the beast. The beast released him as it staggered backwards. Lorgar fell onto his feet and managed to regain balance just as the beast slashed it's right claws at him. He didn't have time to dodge and the claws teared across his face.

Lorgar fell onto the ground. He did not move. The beast watched him for a couple of seconds before it set off to hunt the other legionaries. Lorgar tried to stand up slowly. The pain across the left side of the face was unbearable, he could still feel the cold claws in the wound. When he got back up onto his feet he started to stumble towards the treeline while reaching for his bow. The beast was halfway towards his men as he got to the trees. He tried to hurry up but he was still shaken by the hit. He got further into the woods. Then he heard it, screams of horror as the beast tore through his men. He started to run. Trying to ignore the pain and dizzyness. When he rounded a tree he saw the beast raising one his men into the air the same way it had just raised him and was about to shew the mans head off, the man was screaming in horror. He pulled an arrow out if quiver and readied the bow for a shot. He could not afford to miss. He realesed the arrow and it flew between the trees right into the back of beast's skull. The wolf fell down onto the man it helled. Lorgar ran forward drawing another arrow.

But when he aimed for another shot at the beast, but then it suddenly dissolved into fragments of ice. He ran forward to the man with the arrow still half-readied at the bow. The man was covered in ice fragments. Lorgar helped the man get up from the big pile of ice shards that had formed from the wolf. The man was pale and shaking heavily. Lorgar, still not sure if the beast was dead, looked around to see how many had died. Four lied dead on the ground. One of them had the guts ripped right open with the intestines two yard away. Another one had lost the left arm and the head. The other two corpses was in better condition but they were still covered with deep claw marks all over them. The captured stormcloak lied also on the ground but didn't have any claw marks on her. When Lorgar checked on her, he noticed she was only unconscious. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Witch-king (aka Witchie)
Fort Neugrad
Night

He found himself in the very familiar nightmare. But this time it did not end with the burning village. The scene shifted from the burning village to a large castle hall. The hall was filled with people in black hooded robes and he was one of them. Everyone wearing the black robe, including him, was also kneeling and facing the end of the hall. There at the end stood three hagravens around an altar. On the altar lied a naked woman whom the hagravens channeled a spell on. They were consuming her soul.
The room shifted and now he found himself to be at the end of the hall. Everyone was still kneeling but this time he stood on the altar and the hagravens lied dead before him. He was now consuming their souls.

Witchie woke up an stared at the empty moonlit fort courtyard. Everything was quiet. The silence was suddenly broken by the footsteps of a guard patrolling the wall. He slowly stood up and stumbled towards the fort. When he got inside he fetched a piece of bread and a bottle mead and then sat down in a chair as he started to eat. When he had finished the meal he fell back asleep, revisiting the same nightmare he had just left. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Lorgar Grim-Maw, Falkreath Pine Forest, Night

Lorgar's face felt like it was on fire, yet he continued along the game trail in the pale moonlight without complaint, followed by Lorgar's last surviving legionary, Jullius. They had been walking for a couple of hours now. Lorgar personally carried the unconscious stormcloak, bridal style. Lorgar's comrade tried to volunteer to carry the captive, but Lorgar insisted on doing it, due to the legionary having a broken leg. Jullius was currently limping, his facial expression pointed towards him being in great pain, Lorgar signaled for him to stop,

"Jullius , we can rest for a little if you want..."

He quickly shook his head,

"No sir, its fine, we have to get back to base as soon as possible..."

"If you say so soldier..."

They resumed the trek in silence for a good 40 minutes, before the soldier spoke up again,

"Sir, what was that thing..."

"I don't know Jullius, all I know was that it felt utterly unnatural... it was cold but not like winter cold, but dark cold...I think it was some sort of lycantrope from the hunting grounds of Hircine..."

The soldiers face lit up in fear at the mention of Lycantropes and he stuttered out,

"Sir...My ma told me that werewolves were only stories to scare naughty children into behaving..."

Lorgar chuckled,

"'I'm afraid not Quastor, werewolves are a real as me and you. Though they are very rare, I've only encounter one once before..."

With that, once again both men remained silent for awhile, until, once again Jullius spoke up,

"Sir, are we almost back to camp?"

"Yes Jullius, 30 more minutes of walking..." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Reval
 

After the enemy retreated, Reval was completely soaked in blood. However, the pain of the wound he received from his duel was still fresh.

Grunting slightly, Reval said, "Soldiers, I order you to carry that filthy cat to the prison for interrogation. The rest of you, tend to the fallen bodies of your comrades. They fought bravely against the Empire and should be remembered as heroes." Reval sadly walked to a body he recognized. "So, you joined the dead before you could prove yourself. Such a shame. You could have been great," said Reval as he kneeled before the corpse of the recruit he had so easily beaten earlier. After reciting a quick prayer, Reval was shocked when he saw the body of the captain on the ground, an arrow through his shoulder. 

"Everyone, get the captain to the infirmary! He needs medical attention!" Reval ordered some soldiers to carry the captain to the infirmary as quickly as possible. Reval ran through the blood soaked mud into the fort. There the captain was placed on a large bed and given medical attention. Placing a potion of healing on a table near the captain, Reval said, "We have already lost so much today. It would be most unfortunate to lose such a promising individual such as yourself." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Baldur was sweating profusely, which had him worried since it was so cold in the fort. He looked to the left of him and saw that there was a nice fire in the room. The fact that he was cold with that now worried him some more.

"Hey, anyone nearby?"

A soldier came in and stood to attention. Baldur asked him where was the armor of the dead Necro Nord, and he soldier said the Necro Nords ordered him to give it to him, so the armor was on display in his room along with his weapons. Baldur was relieved that he didn't have to explain why he thought he should have it. Baldur told him to prepare the body to be shipped to his home. The soldier told him he had no home. Soldiering was his life. The man grew up an orphan. He had no other wish than to live and die among his brothers in arms. Baldur thought about this, and about how he died. The last moments he had was one where his men were happy and cheering. Baldur took some comfort in that, and knowing there was no one at home that had to be told of his death was both comforting and depressing.

That was one less mourning mother to worry about on the bright side, Baldur thought.

To Baldur this was comforting because he knew, or thought he knew he was happy in Sovngarde. He reassured the soldier with this without telling him how he thought he knew this. When Baldur asked about the other men, it was quite a different story. All of the other nine men who died had family. Some even children and wives. Baldur thought about this and contemplated the pain and suffering that being a warrior caused. Both to the men and women who served, and to their homes. And to the homes of the enemies that they slayed. He thought about the Nord love of battle and how chaotic it made the world, and how he hated and loved this war. He loved it because it gave him a reason to fight, but hated it because of it's need for expendable soldiers, and what its loss would mean for his home and his people. He told the soldier to go prepare the Necro Nord for burial in Falkreath, and to get Lieutenant Reval if he was fit for duty, and dismissed him.

Baldur turned in his bed to the right and noticed a rather large healing potion on a table next to him. He leaned forward and drank it's contents and almost immediately felt better. His sweating stopped, and his temperature returned to normal, but he was still quite tired, and the pain in his shoulder while a tad numb still throbbed. He decided the best thing he could do was get his rest. The more he did, the sooner he'd be back on his feet in fighting condition. He had a score to settle, and sadly for his enemy, they probably think he's dead. Before closing his eyes, he drank some Cinnamon wine from the table nearby. The health potion had an awful taste to it that gave Baldur a bit of a headache. With that, he drifted off to sleep, with thoughts of the Nord warrior in Sovngarde. Battling Tsun and passing the test. Eating all the moist roast he can eat. All the heavenly sweet Nord mead he could drink. No more pain or misery, for all of eternity.... 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Reval, Baldur

 

Reval was waiting in his room when a frantic Necro Nord barged in. "The captain! He's awake!" yelled the Necro Nord. Reval, relieved, went to the room and saw the captain with an empty health potion bottle near his nightstand. 

"Heh, guess you Nords are tougher than I thought. Good thing too, wouldn't want to be the one to break the bad news to any of these troops. Think you'll be able to take control anytime soon?" said Reval, with a small smirk on his face. 

Baldur thought about what he needed to do, and was not in his usual mood.

"Maybe. I'll need you to pick up some of the slack in the meantime. I need you to interrogate the Khajiit. Ask him things like where his camp is, how many of them are there, and what their plans are in this area. He won't tell you anything of course, so I want you to..."

Baldur thought long and hard about his next words. He thought about how the Khajiit was willing to cooperate and thought about if he was willing to compromise his honor to get at his enemy. But then, he thought about Skyrim, and his people. Both Nord and Dunmer alike. He thought about what failure could mean. He thought about not the Imperials, but the Thalmor, and then he thought about what the Khajiit and his fellow soldier did, and he knew two things. One, that he was willing to compromise his honor if it meant victory for his land, and two, now was not the time to risk failure because the enemy acts civil. He was going to get some retribution for the men he lost. One way or another. But he had to be smart, or he'd lose even more men unnecessarily.

"I want you t...I want...." Baldur got out of his bed with a bit of difficulty and stood up and faced the Dark elf. He felt that it was important he looked him in the eye. "I want you to do whatever it takes to find what he knows, and I want you to get the Witch to help. I will address the men on the subject myself. It's important that I don't keep this from them, lest they lose their respect in me. We must win at any cost. I'll talk to the Khajiit first, and then you will proceed. We'll begin at Dawn after we all get some rest. I'll be there to supervise the procedure. I'm no coward afterall. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to look him in the eye when I do."

Baldur wasn't sure what the Dark Elf thought of his request, so he forced a smile and reassured him.

"I won't order you to do this. If you want to refuse, I won't stop you."

As Baldur waited for Reval's reply, he thought about how easy it was when he was just a soldier. When he didn't have to make the tough decisions, and when all he had to worry about was his brothers beside him, and not the entire army. Baldur longed to be just an ordinary soldier once more. 

"I've already seen what the Empire would do to its enemies. I know that we can't fail under any circumstances. I swear, by Azura, that this fort will not fall so long I as I live!" 

Reval said his farewells and proceeded to his room for some well deserved rest but not before telling a handful of guards to watch the Khajiit at all time and to not allow him any opportunity to escape. The guards agreed and promptly organized themselves around the room. Just as Reval was going to his room, in the dim candlelit halls of the fort, he noticed the bizarre figure of the one called Witchie.

"I've heard a lot about you. They say you call yourself the Witch King. I don't really care who you are, but you are definitely not like the rest of the people here. Perhaps you could learn more from the Khajiit than anyone else here. I hope we understand each other."

With that, Reval entered his room and drifted off to sleep. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Lorgar Grim-Maw, Camp Rommulas, Night

"Sir I insist-

Lorgar growled, he had been back at the camp for only ten minutes and he already had to deal with this nonsense, 

"I told you Praefect, I don't need medical attention at the moment"

"But sir-

"I'm not going to say it again, I want Quaestor Jullius taken care of first, no buts..."

The NCO swallowed, and saluted,

"As you say Legate sir..."

And with that he approached Jullius,

"Lean on me Quasteor'

Jullius complied, and was lead off towards the medical tent, another soldier appeared a few moments afterwords, pointing at the unconscious nord still in Lorgar's arms.

"Sir what do you want to do with the stormcloak?"

"Bring her to the medical tent-" before Lorgar could finish, the soldier rudely interrupted,

"But sir, she's a stormcloak, we should be putting her in chains and-

"Will you let me finish legionary? I was going to say, bring her to the medical tent and put her under tight lock-up, two soldiers at the entrance too the tent at all times. Also I want her to be restrained too the cot she'll be resting on. That said, I don't want anyone to lay a finger on her, and get the medic to examine her and treat any injuries she has."

A glare from Lorgar silenced any protests forming in the soldiers mind. He saluted the legate, and Lorgar gently passed him the unconscious nord.

"One more thing soldier, I want to be informed the moment she regains conscious , I'll have a few question too ask her..." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Camp of the IX Cohort

"Aaaaooouuuggghhh..."

In the imperial medical tent, Rebec stirs with various barely-human groans. She makes to reach up towards her aching head, but her arms meet the restraints. Groaning again, she lets her head fall back. Captured and beaten to a pulp. "This isn't good," she mutters, her lips cracked from thirst. Her thoughts are still groggy and she doesn't remember the beast or wolf, assuming that her condition is because her captors roughed her up.

The imperial medic on duty noticed Rebec's groans and her awakening. He got up from the chair he was sitting on, and gently offered her a sip of water,

"Take it slow lass, you got beaten up quite badly, and you still have to recover"

Rebec accepts the water, for a few moments only concentrating on the pain that seems to be everywhere.

"Thank you," she gasps, falling back. After a few more moments, one eye cracks back open. "Where am I? You're imperials, I see that."

The Medic chuckled,

"Your in camp Rommulas lass, Falkreath Hold..." The medic placed the cup of water on the table beside the cot, "And so what if were imperial soldiers, what do you think we do, torture POW's and eat children?"

He laughed again.

"You beat up your prisoners, at least," she growls. "I want to see your leader. I'm no regular Stormcloak. I can be of use to you, imperial or not."

The Medic look confused and surprised,

"The legate brought you here personally...and he specifically ordered you not to be harmed or abused in anyway, he wouldn't condone such violence against a prisoner of war, and he's not that kind of man to beat up a defenseless woman..."

He started to stroke his stubble thinking what to do...he got up from his chair,

"I'll fetch the legate, for you."

He walked to leave but before he left he turned around and smiled kindly,

" Oh, do you want something to eat while you wait? I can get my assistance to feed you."

"Whatever I'd eat now, I'd end up wearing, I think. But thank you."

Since she couldn't move anyway, Rebec lays back and tries to gather the pieces rattling around in her head. A delivery, Fort Neugrad... My poor wagon. My poor nice goods, being pawed over by Stormcloaks who won't want to pay for them now. With a start she remembers the messages. Erikur's damned dirty dealings. She thinks for a moment, then remembers the false bottom in the wagon where Erikur's Altmer mage attendant, Melaran, had sealed the messages by magic. The Dunmer driver was to meet their contact elsewhere in Falkreath hold after dropping Rebec and her wares off at the fort. It was Thalmor business, she had no doubt. Rebec did not like helping the Thalmor but Erikur had the goods on her for a smuggling deal gone bad.

None of that will matter if these imperials execute me, which is more than likely, she thinks morosely. Should never have left my ship behind. Tense, she waits to see what sort of imperial she'll be dealing with. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Do'jhul 


Do'jhul wondered to himself why he surrendered. Maybe it was because of the weakness of the Stormcloaks. Either that or he got tired of fighting. In the end, it didn't matter. He was here, in the Stormcloaks Fort. His cell was fairly big. Big enough for him to walk around in. Deciding not waste time here and feel sorry for himself, Do'jhul got up and start doing hand stand push-ups. 

Wow, it's been a while since I worked out. "78, 79, 80." Finally Do'jhul stopped his workout and allowed himself some rest. While sitting on his cell floor, Do'jhul wondered what the Legate was up to. He's probably gonna try to organize a rescue mission... Nah, that's not Lorgar. In any case, might as well continue with my routine. Standing back up, Do'jhul jumped up and hung from the upper bars of the cell. Hooking his legs, he started doing abs crunches. 

"371, 372, 373, 374, 375", unhooking his legs from the bars, Do'jhul landed with a soft thud. Finally he decided to meditate, while he waited to be interrogated. It is to suspected. Sitting down, with his legs folded over one another, Do'jhul put his two fists together, closed his eyes and cleared his mind... 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Baldur Red-Snow
Fort Neugrad
Morning

Baldur had a pretty uneventful rest. No dreams of Sovngarde, no nothing, which is exactly what he needed. He leaned forward and got out of his bed. It was cold enough to freeze the [censored] off an orc, so Baldur in his loin cloth and bandages hurried up to his quarters to outfit himself in his new armor. He opened the door and was greeted with the sight of his magnificent set of Nordic Carved armor. The metal work on the quicksilver was that of a master. The chest piece was very sturdy in the front, and in the back. It was thick, and looked as if it could withstand anything. Baldur quickly began to equip the suit of armor, the warmth of the fur calling to him. The armor was of course heavy, but the fur added so much comfort to it that Baldur didn't mind. It would take some time to get used to the weight, but Baldur had worn heavy armor before. The helmet took the shape of a bear's head, and offered a ton of protection for the wearer's head. Baldur was absolutely in love with the new gear. He thanked his friend in Sovngarde once more before he analyzed the axes and the shield.

"The shield....wow."

Baldur never had the time to truly admire the gear the Necro Nords used. He was only now noticing how truly wonderful the craftsmanship of this Nordic Carved armor was. The shield was the most ornamented and intricate part of the armor. It was just absolutely stunning. The axes, while simple were also quite impressive. They were a bit more narrow than the axe he took from his father. These allowed the wielder to hook the opponents weapon or sweep them off their feet by hooking their legs. Baldur tested the axes by banging them on a shield on display on his wall where his father's axe now stayed behind it. The axes smaller blade size did not compromise it's toughness. It was lighter and tougher than his axe, which is saying a lot considering that was Skyforge steel. That impressed Baldur to no end. He looked at his armor and weapons to see if the crafter left any sign of their name or symbol. He wanted to see who actually could make better armor than Eorlund Grey-Mane. He looked at the bottom of the boots he had not yet put on, and Baldur was not surprised to see In all capital letters GM (Grey-Mane) on the heel. Baldur chuckled to himself.

"No one out does Eorlund."

With that, Baldur threw the shield over his back and sheathed the two axes. He went out to the courtyard and called the men to assemble.

He waited patiently for all of them to gather so they could hear what he had to say. He didn't notice Witchie or Reval. Baldur figured they were either in the crowd somewhere and he just didn't see them, or they were waiting in the prison area, he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter. He began to address the men.

"As you all know, we have a legionnaire prisoner. He may be a legate, or a lieutenant. I'm not sure, but he's clearly an officer judging from his skill. I don't have to tell you all it's vital we get whatever info we can from him. I'll be straight with you all. I am planning on torturing the prisoner if he doesn't give up the info."

This caused some murmurs among the regular stormcloaks. The Necro Nords stood silent.

"I know this may not be the most honorable thing to do, but it is necessary. The Thalmor are threatening to take our lands from us, and the Imperials are preparing to give it to them on a silver platter! Now, I won't sit up here and try to justify myself by reminding you the legion has and probably still does torture our men. I won't stand up here and try to win you over by reminding you that those bastards are fighting with those yellow devils who also torture not only our POW's...but our civilians for worshipping almighty Talos! But what I will tell you is I will do everything...EVERYTHING in my power to make sure that we do...not...fail! If you don't agree then you may leave now. I won't stop you. Is there anyone who wants to leave?"

"Hell no!"

"I said, is there anyone who wants to leave and wash the thalmor's loincloths?"

"HELL NO!"

Baldur smiled at their reaction. If he learned anything from Ulfric, it was how to win a crowd.

"Good. Then I'll go and do what I have to do. As for all of you, I'll need you to gather teams and go to Falkreath. Take enough men to guard the city in case of an attack. Meet up and organize with the guard there, and learn the ins and outs of the city. Necro Nords, you will be in charge of that and act as commanding officers. After Falkreath is secured, send patrols from there to Whiterun and keep the roads well guarded. Now that we know the enemy is here, it is imperative that we don't allow them to walk around the hold freely. And have a small group of rookies bring supplies from the city as well."

Archer patrol guard: "Sir, that woman that was on the outside of the gate already brought all the supplies we'll need for a while. We don't know where she is but she left that big wagon of stuff behind, so we took it and put her wagon with the horses."

"Good. Then don't worry about that last order. The rest of you keep working on the fort. If you're not working on the fort, you're training. I'll be training with you for a few hours to get used to this armor. Then, it'll be time to pay our new house pet a visit. Dismissed." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Witch-king (aka Witchie)
Fort Neugrad
Morning

Witchie woke up, the nightmares were getting worse. They were getting longer and worst of all more detailed. He went outside. The fort was busy; some of the soldiers was guarding the wall, others repairing it and the rest were training in the fort courtyard. Witchie went out to see what was left of the battle that had taken place outside the fort. Not much to be seen except blood mixed with mud. The wolf had probably ravaged the assassins in the woods as there was no imperial corpses within sight. He was just about to return to the fort when he noticed something lying in mud on the ground. He went for a closer inspection. It turned out to a massive axe half covered with mud. He took up the axe from the mud and cleaned it off with a bit magic. It was an impressive piece of weaponry. Though it wasn't easy to hold. It was heavy and acted like it was trying to wrestle itself from his grasp. But he refused to let go.

Anyone wielding such a weapon must be have been crazy enough to face the wolf. He must have lost the axe here before running off and being killed in the woods, no other explanation to why he would have left his axe and why his corpse isn't around. At least I got a nice trophy.

On his way back to the inside of fort with the axe, still struggling to leave his grasp thus slowing him down, he noticed a carriage filled with with what looked like supplies. Some soldiers was taking the supplies into the fort.

I could use a mana potion. The summoning has still left me weak.

He went to carriage and started to search through the stuff that the men haven't taken yet. While searching he couldn't help but to feel the pressence of magical seals.

Probably something secret for the captain. And I guess I'm the one that is supposed to open the seals for him. 

He let it slide for the moment. The captain would take it up with him later anyway. He continued to search the wagon untill he found a minor mana potion. It wasn't much but he didn't bother to look if there was more. So he drank up the potion and headed towards the prison. There was a cat that he could drain energies from. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Lorgar Grim-Maw, Rebec
Camp Rommulas
Morning
 

"Sir the prisoner is awake and is requesting to see you"

"Thank you Tribune, i'll be with you in a few seconds",

Half of Lorgar's face was now covered in bloodied bandages , the only medical treatment he would accept, saying that there were other soldiers who were more seriously wounded then he was, as he found out that Tribune Titus attacked the fort with his pack which ended in heavy casualties for both the stormcloak and imperial forces. Lorgar was looking at a chart of Falreath before he was interrupted by the doctor,

"Okay then, take me to the prisoner, what's her condition?

"Nothing too serious Legate, she has two broken ribs, and a very nasty headache, I think she also has a minor concussion. she also thinks's were the ones who put her into this condition"

"So she has minor memory lost?"

"It seems so sir..." ,

That might make things a tad harder

They entered the medical tent, which was huge, and passed by a few wounded soldiers before reaching the cot in were the prisoner was occupying. She was bruised up and looked very tired, Lorgar took a seat adjacent to a the table beside the bed and sat down. He decided too approach the situation acting civil, they were both human beings after all.

"Ma'am, you requested to see me? I understand you have a few questions, i have questions to ask you as well, but you can ask yours first." 

Rebec had dozed again while waiting for the imperial captain to arrive. Stirring awake at his voice, she glances over, squints, then says, "Ysgramor's balls, you look as bad as I feel. I take it the 'Cloaks got a few hits in."

Her voice is groggy, but she continues, desperate. "Now listen here. I know I've got this uniform on, and in battle I'd have taken my axes to you, but you'll want to spare me. I'm a ship captain and trader, not a soldier. I can get things you need, things you can't easily get elsewhere. The 'Cloaks can't be making your supply lines too secure, yes? It's in your interest to work with me. And if not for you, then think of your men." The sailor knew that with imperial and Nord alike, you had to make shady deals sound noble even if they weren't. 

Is she daft or something?

Lorgar, ignoring the nord's backhand comment and desperate offer, chuckled,

"By Arkay, who gave you the idea that we would execute you miss?" he continued with "My unit doesn't believe in things like public executions or applying torture to extract information. You have nothing to worry about in my custody." Lorgar meant it, he hated the stormcloak's as a whole, not the individuals who made up it's army, who were just soldier fighting in for what they thought was right. He also added,

"Tribune Angelos also says that your confused, you think that were the ones who put you into this condition. In actuality Miss, you were perfectly healthy when I took you captive, and I can assure you Miss if any of my men did touch you" he added particular venom in his voice and put on a very serious face "An unarmed and compliant prisoner, I would have ignored the usual punishment of latrine duty, and would have had him flogged"

He got up from his chair and whispered to Tribune Angeolos,

"Should we tell her that she was mauled by a werewolf-like creature?"

"Bad idea sir, that might cause some serious stress, we should let her rest for awhile and then we can tell her of the specifics"

"Your call tribune..."

He addressed the prisoner once again while heading towards the flap of the medical tent,

"As I said before, none of my men will touch you. Just relax and get some rest. I'll come later and talk when your thinking clearly and rested, if you need anything just ask Tribune Angelos, okay?

He walked out of the tent.

Rebec stares after the imperial captain, puzzling over his reaction, and unsure whether to be relieved at the promise she wouldn't be executed or annoyed that he hadn't taken her up on her offer of trade. But there is a more pressing need at the moment.

"Hey. Hey you, medic. How about you let me out of these restraints? I need to tinkle, and I'd like a smoke if you'd let me get one out of my uniform pocket. I promise to be sweet as mother Mara."


The Medic's face looked serious for a moment before replying,

"I guess...Legate Lorgar wouldn't mind. As long as you remember three things, behave yourself, im a very deadly knife fighter, and there's two armed guards outside."

He got up from his chair, dropping the book he was reading and carefully took off the restrains binding Rebec's arms, he also said,

"Oh and this is a smoking free environment, so I decline your other request..."

"I'll just stand outside then." Rebec doesn't wait for permission, pushing past the medic and stepping through the entrance of the medical tent into the morning air. Her manner is casual, however, and she doesn't appear to be interested in fleeing.

"Ahhh. Now this is better." She takes a deep breath, stretches, then wobbles and half falls into one of the entrance guards. Laughing, she says, "Oh, sorry about that. Still got some crosswinds blowing between my ears. Medic says I can come out for a tinkle and smoke. Do you mind?" Again without waiting for say-so, she stumbles around to the side of the tent and squats, not shy about doing her business near male soldiers.

"No ma'am, it's fine."

The soldier's face looked concerned,

"Though you shouldn't be up, I can imagine you feel like [censored], you should be resting..."

"You imperials. So polite," Rebec says from her squatting position. When she's finished, she stands and re-arranges her tunic, then pulls out a small paper cylinder from her pocket and a little flint lighter marked with redguard symbols. The cigarettes are of her own make, a mixture of elf ear and canis root. The smell of the smoke comes across either pleasant or revolting, depending on the person.

Taking a few puffs, she looks thoughtfully around at the camp and addresses the guard again. "What are you lot still doing here anyway? I thought you'd all be gone back to Cyrodiil by now. Haven't you got better things to do than harass Nords? Not that I mind, much. It's good for my business."

The soldier face was now filled with pride, he responded to Rebec's question eagerly,

"Me? Mainly duty Ma'am but it's different for everyone else, regardless General Tullius's final orders before Solitude's fall was to engage the stormcloak's in gurillea warfare, everyone here is going to follow these orders to the letter."

"Tullius, eh. I wager he was told not to come home unless he brought Skyrim with him. A fool's errand if you ask me."

Freedom and smoking had lightened Rebec's mood, but then she grimaces with pain, holding her side with the free arm. "Agh, gods and harlots. Your captain says he doesn't beat prisoners, but if that's so then how come I feel like a troll's chew toy? Wait... I think I remember. There was a beast of some kind, and he turned into a wolf..." Obviously her memory is returning, but still in a jumble, thinking that the Cathay-Raht and the summoned wolf were one and the same creature.

The soldier was getting worried now, he offered for her to lean on him,

"Ma'am, you need to rest, your mind is still messed up and your body is still recovering , let me escort you back too your bed."

"Oh very well," answers Rebec, annoyed. She pinches out the cigarette and replaces it in her pocket to finish later. As she's turning, she sees the imperial captain standing together with an elf in robes that everyone in Skyrim recognizes

"By the gods, the Thalmor are in your camp?" Her face goes very white, whiter than it had already been from her injuries. Everyone knows that people who get turned over to Thalmor custody rarely return from it. If that's what the captain had meant by his assurances that his men wouldn't lay a hand on her...

Rebec could hear the captain mutter,

"Dont touch her..." his tone filled with tranquil fury,

The soldier noticing how pale Rebec was becoming at the sight of the Thalmor, reassured her with a smile and a wink,

"Dont worry about it Ma'am, we wont let the scary elf hurt you"

Rebec gives the soldier a skeptical look. "Forgive me if I don't look relieved. Thanks for the pee and smoke break, anyway." She casts another glance at the imperial captain and elf, wondering how she went from relaying messages for Thalmor to relying on imperials to keep them away from her. "I'm getting too old for this," she mutters as she heads back into the medical tent. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Tyrian, Lorgar, Rebec
Camp Rommulas
Morning 
 

Smoke lit from the golden-skinned overseer as he approached the tent where the prisoner was being held "Doesn't believe in torture" His golden eyes glanced around at the Legate "Perhaps you'd like to elaborate on what exactly happened to this prisoner to me before I execute her on account of treason immediately." He placed his hand with the gentle grace of a nobleman "Don't worry I won't erase her." More smoke exited his pipe as he rested his hand on his staff "Today is a good morning, she'll be in proper care. Isn't that right Legate?" A grim smile formed on his face, he answered the question for him "Yes? Good." 

Lorgar face was stoic, yet every one could tell the fury of the wolf was in his voice

"Don't tempt me Travinster, Unlike many other of my fellow officer's, I don't take [censored] from anyone, even a High-overseer of the Aldmeri Dominion." He sarcastically smiled, his voice now filled with mocking civility, "This is my camp, my soldiers, my unit, and my prisoner..." He dropped the smile, and brought the fury back to his voice, "Don't touch her..." 

Tyrian broke into a smile at the foolish Legate's words, he glanced over to see a white faced prisoner, as she cowered back into the tent. His blue robes swooshed up in the air as he brought his hood down off of his head, revealing his long grey hair. "Tell me now sir, do you know what the term Grand Overseer means? My rank? Duty? If not, then I suggest you start listening to what I say. How old are you boy? Perhaps in your infinite wisdom you'd take the time to understand a situation, I was serious when I said I wouldn't kill her, I am permitted by the Emperor himself to do whatever is necessary to ensure the success of your mission, anything. So I'd inform you that conflicting with the man who gives the important reports to both your leader, and my own, is a rather foolish folly that can only cause harm to yourself and your duty, consider that Legate." The Altmer smiled yet again "Clear?" 

Oh shit...

Lorgar acknowledged to himself, that he had overstepped his bounds, and that he was digging his own grave, career wise and physically. He hated the High-Overseer, but also knew he most likely had the ear of Emperor Amaund himself.

Better apologies...or else im going to be in some real shit.

Lorgar bowed his head in defeat,

"Forgive me sir...I overstepped my bound utterly, and I offer my humbleness apology and were clear sir..." he continued "I let my personal attitude towards the treatment of prisoner's get it the way of my duty to the empire" he bowed his head again for good measure , and this time he asked politely, "Sir I only request that your treat the prisoner gently..." 

Tyrian looked down at the Imperial with a look of pride, he simply rested his hand back on his staff "Glad to see you understand the circumstances of your mistakes." The Altmer's hand then graced itself on the Imperial's shoulder "Would you mind getting my staff polished for me?" He then lit a small bit of fire on his fingertips and twirled it around his hand "You're too easy on rebels, I'll talk with her, if she says anything snarky she'll get a nice taste of Aldmeri justice. Until then I will be quite hospitable." He then walked past him, not waiting for an answer. He turned to the doctor first "leave us." Then to the white faced prisoner from earlier "Don't be afraid, I'm not inclined to hurt you unless I deem it absolutely necessary."

One of the Aldmeri Guard entered the tent for a brief second to check on his location "You should be lucky, the Grand Overseer is generally rather understanding, unlike t--"

The Overseer smiled "I will not need protection m'am." He then finished what the guard was saying as she exited "as I am required to keep an objective view about the actions of others." 

Rebec had composed herself inside the medical tent, and was even settling in for more sleep when the Altmer enters. She is still quite weak from concussion and blood loss. "Get to your point, elf. I've got no time for you. Got some bleeding left to do today. Though I suppose you thought you'd add to that." 

Tyrian rubbed his eyes in frustration "You poor poor Stormcloaks never did like elegance did you? No...? Good." He placed his hand on her shoulder and sent a wave of electricity through her right arm "What is your name and rank? I had planned on doing this non-violently but it seems you want it that way." The Altmer's face was in a mixture of both feigned and genuine remorse, he hated the way the body twitched in pain, but was it necessary? Sometimes he questioned the methods required, and this was one of them. He stopped "Give me a minute please, I'll prepare you something to drink." He obtained a cup of water, softened it with heat so that it couldn't be used to attack him, and placed it next to her "I assume you're injured." He placed his hand on her shoulder in a far more caring manner this time and sent restorative energy throughout her body, rejuvenating the captured soldier "Now then, can you please answer my questions without a fuss?" 

At the jolt of electricity Rebec's muscles seize and she cries out in pain. A trickle of blood appears at the corner of her nose. With eyes closed and through grit teeth she seethes, "So much for imperial promises." Her limbs twitch for a time, but this eases as the Altmer then applies the healing spell. A sheen of perspiration still covers her face.

The sailor opens her eyes then and regards Tyrian with hate. It had crossed her mind to try to bargain with him, but even before the shock she had rejected that idea. People with self-interest, she could work with. Zealots are more trouble than they're worth. "I'm Rebec. Not pleased to meet you. I'm a trader, a nobody, and when the imps picked me up I was just making a delivery. So you're wasting your sparklefingers on me." 

Tyrian's eyes turned to the girl with immense precision, as if staring into every inch of her being "What were you delivering, and whom was it addressed to?" He said these plainly, refusing to give into her baiting of anger. 

"I was delivering meat and weapons to Fort Neugrad," Rebec answers, hedging. It was the Dunmer driver who was in charge of seeing the messages delivered to Erikur's contact, not her. She's swindled enough customs officers to know it's more believable to speak the truth when you can. "But I've never been there, so I can't tell you who the commander is or where the secret entrances are."

The sheen of sweat becomes a drop. She blinks it away. It might be time to think about escape, Rebec ponders as the medic's interruption gives her a moment's space to think. If the imperials had lasted this long in Skyrim as an insurgency, the camp wouldn't be easy to find, and the Stormcloaks would have taken losses from the beast's attack. There would be no rescue. 

After hearing his patient scream in pain, Tribune Aneglos instinctively entered his medical tent, ignoring the Aldermi guard at the entrance. Angelos raised his voice slightly, while still having a respectful tone, "Excuse me sir, can you please cut down on the "Shock" on my patient?", noticing the pipe on the Altmer, he also said, this time without the respectful tone, "Oh and please, if your going to smoke, do it outside the medical tent..." 

Tyrian simply nodded and put out the pipe with a sprinkle of ice "My apologies, I simply forgot that I am in a medical environment. Now leave us." He turned to the prisoner once again "You know exactly what you were doing girl, Erikur was sending you on an errand correct? Then you are of course aware of the incrimination you face in both courts, Imperial and Stormcloak alike, you'd be in big trouble girl." He smiled "Or was that another courier? Perhaps you should reconsider what rank you think I am, I am the Grand Overseer, I run all operations in this province... simply put, I'm your biggest target." He placed a hand on her shoulder once again "So I'd like you to consider my kindness in not slitting your throat right now, as I have a better idea." He gestured towards the door "Walk over to the podium right outside, if you so much as take a step in the wrong direction you'll be killed immediately, am I clear?" He gently got up and exited the tent, not waiting for a response. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Lorgar Grim-Maw
Camp Rommulas
Morning
 

I'm not a pile of ash, so it appears me pleasing his ego payed off...

Lorgar breathed a slight sign of relief as he watched the overseer head into the medical tent, thankful it was him rather then some other Justicar. As much as he disliked the overseer, he knew he found pointless cruelty distasteful, he would only resort to torture if he deemed it necessary.

Lorgar signaled a random soldier over, who was most likely on the way to the mess hall for some chow,

"Soldier, Polish the overseers staff, and be very gentle with it..."

The soldier groaned in protest, as he gently took the staff from the legate, and headed back to his tent. No chow for him. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Do'jhul, Witchie


As Do'jhul meditated in his cell, he heard a door open and then close. After that he heard foot steps coming down the steps closer and closer. Finally, the steps came near his cell. He then heard a chair being scrapped against the floor. When the noise stopped, he felt the presence of another person in the room. Instantly negative emotions flowed from this person. He heard then person sit down in the chair.

All of a sudden, Do'jhul felt his magicka being drained from his body...

After feeling drained for a while, Do'jhul decided to speak.

"It's futile..."

"Maybe... But that hasn't stopped me before." Do'jhul could feel the man lean towards the cell. His negative emotions were stronger than ever.

Keeping his eyes closed, Do'jhul gestured with one of his fingers towards his scar over his left eye. Still in a calm state, Do'jhul asked, "Where do you think I got this scar from?"

"I remember a time when the dwarves still used pickaxes and chisels to carve out their halls. I've faced and created horrors unheard of in this age. I'm not afraid..." Do'jhul felt the man lean back into his chair.

Taking the hand he gestured to his scar with, Do'jhul put it into a fist and touched with his other one. Keeping his eyes closed, Do'jhul said, "This scar was from the only enemy to ever touch me...", opening his eyes for the first time since the man walked in, Do'jhul got a good look at his interrogater.

The man for some reason had no face. It was like he looking into a dark abyss. Who is this man? Resting his violet gaze on the man, Do'jhul continued, "It was... a Werewolf. It was the only foe I fought that was able to keep up with my speed and strength. Unfortunately, I am now cursed with the blopod of the wolf. It's hard to believe, coming from a Khajiit of setient beings, but it's true. Now you know." Closing his eyes again and not moving a muscle, Do'jhul asked, "When is the captain coming to interrogate me? I would like to speak with him." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Baldur, Do'jhul, Witchie, Reval
Fort Neugrad Courtyard
Morning
 

Baldur was feeling well. The wound was still tender, but it was sealed, and it was numb. Which was almost as good as healed as far as Baldur was concerned. All the strength in his right arm had not yet returned, but it would eventually with some time. If it wasn't for the health potion, Baldur may have still been in bed sulking.

Thank the divines for magic. I don't see why my kinsmen fear it so much.

His training was also going well. He was a tad bit slower than he normally was, but the extra armor gave him confidence, and allowed him to make riskier combat maneuvers now that he wasn't as worried about getting hit. He was still quick on his feet though. With more practice, he'd eventually be as quick as he was before, although he'd still get fatigued a bit sooner than usual. Baldur's fighting style blended very well with the two axes. Baldur found himself wishing he'd had tried it out sooner. With this style, he found himself quite capable of fighting multiple targets at once, especially with the protection of his armor. The warmth of the fur it provided wasn't too bad either.

After he had exhausted three recruits, he told them to go rest up for a bit and prepare to go on rebuilding duties. The fort still had a ways to go to be fully refurbished, but it would still do it's job well enough. The men he had going to Falkreath had finally departed, so the fort seemed a bit less chaotic, but still quite busy and filled with activity. The banging metal at the forge, the creaking sound of ropes pulling up platforms with stone for the walls, the dull pang of practice weapons colliding, all of it still filled the air as did the sound of soldiers singing while they kept busy to pass the time. Baldur could hear one of them singing "The age of Oppression". Another was singing his little song that he now called "A ditty with the kitty". The soldier was of course terribly off key and couldn't remember the passing and rhythm of the song, but no one seemed to care. Baldur put his thoughts back to his task. It was time to coerce the cat.

Baldur walked back into the fort and made his way to the dungeon. He could hear chatting coming from the prison area. Baldur could make out two voices. One was that of the Lieutenant, and the other was unmistakably that of the cat. He also could hear a strange noise that sounded like that of magic.

What was he up to? Baldur thought.

Baldur stepped near the door and cupped his hands around his ear, and pressed them to the door to hear the conversation. He heard enough of it to realize that this Cathey-Raht, as crazy as it may sound, was a living breathing werewolf....

As if the bastard wasn't strong enough already...

As he stepped in, he could see Witchie was performing some sort of spell. It seemed to be draining something from the prisoner's body.

"Starting without me I see...." 

Keeping his eyes closed and relaxing in his meditation position, Do'jhul addressed the Nord. "From the sound of your footsteps, it's sounds like you got some new armor. I wouldn't be surprised if was made by Eorlund Gray-Mane. Fine man and smith. Tell me, where did you learn to sing like that?" 

Baldur walked next to the Witch King and held his hands together behind his back.

"From my father." Baldur replied. "He had a lot of sorrow in his life because of my mother. She was a priest of Dibella you see. So when I was born, she didn't exactly want to settle down and get married. Father never forgave her for his broken heart. I think that's the first thing I ever failed at. I think he wanted me to make her change her lifestyle, and it didn't work. He treated me like a failure ever since. So, anyway, he sang to ease the pain, and I just picked it up from him. So, khajiit. I suspect you know where this is going. Why did you even come to my fort? Were you ordered to so your assassin could kill me from the shadows? And why didn't you fight me when I presented my challenge? I'm much more tougher than some recruits you know." 

Still keeping his eyes closed, Do'jhul replied back, "Why did I come? Well, to be honest, I don't know how to answer that. I love a good battle. A lot of the Nords I met over my life said I had the heart of Nord. Love battle, protect your honor, defend what you believe in, you know the whole deal. To answer your second question, no. I did out of my own desire for a good fight. Finally, I didn't think it was time for you to die at that moment. When I was fighting your men, I was only using 20% of my power. When I broke your shield, I used 40%."

"You're something else, you know that? A pity I did not get to fight you. I may get that chance soon, as I don't plan to kill you like a wild beast in a cage. So my guess is the big nord that almost killed me was simply following you and took advantage of the situation. Smart. Cowardly using a bow to kill a captain from the distance...but smart. Not my style, but then again neither is interrogating a prisoner. Your turn. Do you have any other questions? Surely there's something more important you wish to ask of me."

Thinking for a moment, Do'jhul couldn't think of anything else to say. Finally after all of this time, Do'jhul opened his eyes. Looking at the Captain with his violet eyes, Do'jhul said, "Yeah, my Legate is a real coward. He thinks we're friends, but to him, it's just an illusion", stand up and looking down on the Nord, Do'jhul asked, "So, what questions do you have for me? I can already guess." 

Baldur had a pit in his stomach. What was about to happen went against everything he believed in. Torture was a weapon those milkdrinking Thalmor and Imperial cowards used, not a proud Stormcloak Nord. But the situation was getting dire in Skyrim. Baldur would do what he had to do.

"I'm sure you could, but I'll save the boring stuff for later when Reval gets here. For now lets start small. Earlier you brought up your fighting skill. Where did you learn to fight?

"During my childhood from my grandfather. He was a grandmaster in the Khajiiti martial art Whispering Fang style. Next?"

"Why do you fight for the Imperials?"

"Well when I first joined it was just to make a living in Chorrol. But now, I don't know. The Empire lost the Civil War, and are puppets of the Thalmor. So I guess it is out of duty, but I'm starting to change my mind."

"I bet a lot of Imperials think that way. Some simply turn a blind eye to certain things they do and allow. But there's some of that going around on both sides....Well Cathey-Raht, I don't have any more personal questions for you. I suspect there's not much more to tell. I like that about you. The way of the warrior makes things simple. So, Do'jhul was it? That's enough of the idle chatter. Well start the interrogating when Reval gets here." 

Reval entered the room and saw the Captain and Witchie talking to the Khajiit.

"So, guess you decided to start the fun without me. Better late than never I say," said Reval who entered the room with a sort of aloofness.

"You know Khajiit, I've fought many of your kind before. However, they weren't Imperials. They were Thalmor scum. The only thing I despise just as much as Imperials are those damn Thalmor. So tell me, when should we expect the Imperial puppetmasters to appear?" said Reval, as he grabbed a chair from a corner and placed it in front of the khajiit while eating an apple in his hand. 

Do'jhul smirked at the elf and said, "The Thalmor are the Governmental body of the Aldmeri Dominion. Only yellow-elves are allowed to become Thalmor. Do your research next time, ash skin. How are you're wounds I gave you? You'll be glad to know I was only using 20% of my strength against you", leaning his back against the cell he continued taunting the elf. "If I had used anymore, you wouldn't be here."

"Ah, nice of you to join us, Reval. Down to business then. As Reval said, when can we expect the Imperials to send reinforcements? How many men are in your camp? And in Skyrim? Who's your Legate, and what is he like? And are you aware of any plans he has? Oh, and where is General Tulius? Tell me what I need to know, and I'll let you leave. You have my word. It will of course be after about a month in here. That way you won't go and warn your Captain about us. You understand. But you will be treated with respect, and be fed well. But again, you must tell me what I need to know."

Baldur waited for the Khajiit's reply, not expecting much. 

The interrogation was going well thus far. But Witchie was not expecting it give much fruits. So he deviced a plan in case the khajiit would not give it up willingly. He extended the absorb spell to subtly absorb even his physical energies. It was mostly to keep the khajiit from feeling too confident and to regain a bit of his own strength. But was also in case he had to put his plan in motion. If the khajiit rejected the offer made by the captain he would intensify the absorb spell till the khajiit fell out of consciousness. And then was when the khajiit was asleep he would summon a shade from the realm of Vaermina and send it into the khajiit to fetch the information needed directly from his memories. Of course the khajiit would suffer some horrific nightmares but that would be a minor issue, if it could be considered an issue at all. Torture is for novices.
But he didn't want to ruin the small good will the khajiit had shown by behaving thus far with his now more intense draining. So he loosened the icy collar a bit so it wouldn't sit so tight on his neck.

"Would you want some mead?" he asked soon after captain the captain had stated his ultimatum.

Alcohol was usually a good way to loosen the tongue and the khajiit doesn't seem to have had any drink since he had been cought. 

"No, no mead until AFTER I get the info I need."

Baldur began to grow more confident after he asked his question. He was fully committed, and determined to see this through. His men were behind him, and there was no doubt in his mind that he was doing the right thing. Or at least that's what he told himself. He had to get the information. It was the reason his men were sent to die in the first place. Soldiers were expendable, but that didn't mean they could be sacrificed for no reason.

"Answer the questions, Do'jhul or I take this to the next level. I'd rather not stain my honor if I can help it, but by Talos I will for the good of my country."

Baldur brought his face to the cage and spoke in an angry low voice.

"Answer...the...questions. Where's your camp, where's Tullius, how many men does your Legate have, and what are they planning?" 

Do'jhul sat back down in his meditating position and replied. "From what I gathered from the letter sent by General Marius Imperius, he will be sending his VI Legion within six months time. As for the number of men, it's hard to say exactly. As for Skyrim itself, I don't to be honest. I'm only a Second Luietenant. My Legate's name is Lorgar Grim-Maw; as for what he is like, it's not that important. General Tullius? That spineless coward? I don't know. What are they planning? Like I'm going to tell you", getting irritated, Do'jhul let out a very menacing growl. Not the growl of a mountain cat, but that of a wolf. "Huh, you don't scare me Baldur." 

"Maybe if you gave me the chance to fight you on the battlefield, I would have. You were smart to back down when you did, Do'jhul."

Baldur noticed that he started using the khajiit's actual name. This to him was a mistake. It would be easier to go through with the torture if he depersonalized his victim.

Baldur began to pace back and forth in front of the cell. "I've got an idea. I overheard your conversation earlier, cat. Enough to know two interesting things. One, I know even less about my Lieutenant Witchie than I had originally thought. That is of course if he is to be believed when he says he remembered the time of the dwemer. Two, werewolves are apparently more than a myth, and I am lucky enough to have one in my presence. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe werewolves according to legend are sensitive to silver...."

Baldur walked over to a weapon holder by a table and picked up a freshly polished silver greatsword. He then picked up a torch off of the wall and began to heat up the tip of the blade.

"Maybe this will loosen those lips of yours cat...."

Witchie was about to stop the captain when he picked up the silver sword and tell him that it wouldn't be necessary but Witchie also wanted to see how the silver would affect the prisoner. So he let the captain heat up the blade stick it into the cage, near the cat's head so that he could feel the heat from the silver blade. 

Do'jhul instantly jumped back from the hot blade. Just the presence of the silver was enough to make Do'jhul weak. I feel like a helpless cub. I'll give in. Still towards the back of the cell, Do'jhul said, "If you want the location of the camp, I'll tell you. I'll also let you in on the plans too; but first, get that silver away from me, weakling." 

Interesting, thought Witchie. This knowledge might become useful in the future.

Baldur could not believe his strategy worked. He was hoping with all of his heart and soul he would not have to stoop so low, and by the divines he didn't! But it seemed too easy to him, and he wasn't really sure how genuine the khajiit's response was. He decided that he'd take it up with his lieutenants. He couldn't afford being given false information.

"Well, that worked better than expected. Reval didn't even get his chance to put the screws to you. I'll get ready for your report, Do'jhul. But first, I need to speak to my lieutenant. Witchie, stay with the prisoner for now. Reval, meet me outside the door."

Either the khajiit wasn't that fond of the silver or he had a trick up his sleeve. Either way Witchie was considering to put his plan in motion. That way the kahjiit wouldn't be able to hide or twist anything. But he didn't want to knock out the cat without the captains consent, angering his "superiors" was not something he needed right now.
The captain had gone out the door with the second lieutenant and ordered him to sit guard. Even if wouldn't be allowed to get the information, he would get some strength. He started to form a crystal in his hand and directed the drained magicka from the prisoner into the crystal. He made a link directly from the khajiit to the crystal so if he left, the crystal would still feed on the prisoner.


Baldur stepped outside the door, hiding his concern from the cat, and he waited for Reval to walk out as well.

"Well, lieutenant? Is he for real, or do you think he's looking to feed us misinformation?" 

Reval walked out with the captain and was surprised by how well it worked. 

"You know, part of me believes that he is faking, but part of me also believes that he is genuine in what he is saying since he doesn't seem as determined for his cause like the other Imperials I've met in my travels. However, Khajiit are a strange race and he is a werewolf. We should be careful if he decides to turn into his wolf form to escape. I suggest that we at least hear what he has to say to make our guesses. If it proves false, we still have silver," said Reval, who proceeded to enter the room with the captain.

"Well, let's hear what you have to say." 

"Okay, Reval. Thank you for your counsel. Here's what's going to happen. I don't trust this Do'jhul. I think that either one, he's going to lead us into some kind of trap, or two, he expects me to send all of my troops to the camp and he'll use that opportunity to escape. I don't really know how his werewolf blood works, whether he can transform on demand, and I have no idea how strong they are and if they can bust out of a cage, but to be sure, I'm going to set up a trap of my own. We're going to go in, listen to what he has to say, and when he gives us the location of the camp, I'm going to order you to take most of the men there as soon as possible. What I really want you to do however is to take two Necro Nords and go on a recon mission. Witchie won't be aware of this, so his reaction will help sell our lie. The khajiit let it slip that the assassin that almost took me out was his Legate. If you see him, you'll know that's the right camp. Do not engage under any circumstances. If you get caught, send a Dremora Lord here to let me know the situation."

Do'jhul listened inherently to the conversation between the Captain and the Dunmer. They tried to talk in hushed voices, but it was no match for the Khajiit's acutes sense of hearing. Huh, fools. Do'jhul finally noticed the Captain walking back towards his cell. The Dunmer was gone, so obviously the plan was already put into motion. The Captain then took the silver sword and heated the tip once again. He then put it near the door of the cell and ordered the Khajiit to talk. 

"Travel hard and fast on those horses," Baldur said to Reval, "And travel light. It's imperative that you remain unseen, but just in case, you and the Necro Nords equip some legionnaire armor from the corpses we recovered. Here, I'll draft a letter with some fake battleplans in case you and your men are seen. Give it to the legate and say you intercepted it from a stormcloak courier. It will tell them that we're held up in this location on your map. It's a spot nearby falkreath with two hills on either side of a road. Perfect spot for an ambush. Hopefully you won't need to use this, but if you do, it will come in handy, and could turn the situation in our advantage. Worse case scenario, you either get captured and the enemy sees past your disguise, which is why you need to send the Dremora Lord, so I can still come and attack, or two, they see through you and kill you outright, which will prevent you from sending the daedra. I'll assume after a certain amount of time that you're dead if the demon is not here with your message. I'll have to ask that you don't try to fight your way out. If you succeed, the enemy will know I'm coming. I know that's a lot to ask, but you know what you signed up for. And if our house pet is trying to escape, I'll be waiting with this silver blade. Oh, and on your way out the fort, tell the archers to double their numbers on the fort walls. If he tries to escape, we'll make him into a pin cushion. He's fast, but not fast enough to dodge that many archers from within the fort. Okay, lets see what this Khajiit has to say."

Baldur stepped in with Reval, and looked the Khajiit in the eye. Baldur lifted the sword, and reheated he tip once more.

"Okay, khajiit. Talk." 

Do'jhul with a calm look on his face, replied to the Captains orders. "You really want to know where the camp is don't you? Fine, have it your way. It is near the shore of Lake Illnalta and is also near the ruin of Shriekwind Bastion. There you go. Happy? Now please, let me meditate." 

Sitting back down and folding his legs, Doujhul formed his hands to fists and rested them on his lap and closed his eyes. 

"If you're lying to me, kitty, I'll stick this blade straight down your throat. That, is a promise. However, if you are in fact telling the truth, I'll keep my word and release you. Ulfric obviously would never go for that, so I'll have to keep it hushed. But, I won't be able to let you go until this business with your legate is finished. Until then, you'll be treated with respect, and your cell will be made more comfortable, and your food will be exactly what we eat. We got some fine supplies recently that I'm sure you'll enjoy. But only after my army gets back from the camp. Reval, gather the men. You're going to the enemy camp."

Baldur looked back at Reval so the Khajiit couldn't see his eyes as he gave him a wink. "Witchie, I want you to go to Falkreath and lead the troops from there. Inform the Jarl that you are in charge of any and all military activities from within and around the city. I'll remain here with the few soldiers not attacking the camp. Everyone, dismissed. Do'jhul, I hope for your sake this information is accurate."

With that, Baldur left the prison, and waited for his plan to unfold in his office. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Rebec Red-Eye
Camp Rommulas
 

The ship captain watches after Tyrian a moment, then sits up carefully. She finds that she feels better than she had since first waking. “Ooh, Grand Overseer." She snorts derisively.

One of the other wounded is also awake, staring at her. “What’s the matter with you?" she snaps at him. "Don’t you know the damn elves would lie about their own mothers? If they have mothers."

She’s still muttering as she steps through the tent flap. Staring at the podium, the sailor considers what she is doing. This is a long road with no good end. Obey the Thalmor once, and you could find yourself as craven as these imperials.

But there was no use throwing her life away just yet. Many times Rebec had stared down death on the sea, and that didn’t frighten her. But if she could help it, she would not die so far from her ship and crew. She walks over to the stand, eyes scanning the camp and its environs for any opportunity. Or for her axes, which would be just as good. 

Tyrian began to become annoyed at the woman's belligerent nature, but rather than do something about it he simply lit his pipe. "Alright listen here, I'd like to inform you of one thing, you're now in the company of my men, who I'm simply going to let interrogate you, perhaps then you'll understand why not giving me what I want is a bad idea." He turned to his men "You've got three restrictions, no rape, no mutilation, and no killing."

He walked away to obtain his staff, his men began to unleash volleys of lightning "State your name, rank, position, and actions in the past five days, any and all details that are deemed incorrect by the Overseer will result in further punishment, do we make ourselves abundantly clear?" 

The Overseer smiled, as his hood went back over his face, blocking out all sound as he went to retrieve his prized staff. His boots kicked up dirt in both orderly and chaotic movements. Finally the soldier handed him his staff "Thank you soldier." Didn't I tell Lorgar to polish it? No matter. He looked around for the Legate "Excuse me, could someone please notify the Legate that he and I need to speak? Thank you." He then left to return to the prisoner at the Podium. 

*

"Legate Sir, the high overseer wishes to speak to you..."

Lorgar was currently reading some charts of Falkreath, he simply nodded at the soldier, and excused him with the wave of his hand,

With all these interruptions, i'll never get any work done,

Finally, he headed to the high overseers position, when he finally got to the hood-covered high-overseer, Lorgar spoke in a slightly annoyed tone,

"Tyrian, you wanted too see me?" 

*

Rebec had thought the Thalmor out of earshot for her comment, and as she's given over to the regulars in his command recognizes that she is going to end up like so many Nords she had heard about.

She's not going down quietly.

An imperial regular sitting at the breakfast fire had put his sword belt aside in order to manage a hot bowl of porridge. Bolting before the Thalmor soldiers have a chance to grab her, Rebec kips the man's porridge into his face, stomps on his instep for good measure, and uses his surprise and momentary blindness to grab and unsheathe his sword. He rises to his feet and flails his arms out to grab her, but that is easily evaded.

Rebec doesn't run, however. Instead she pulls the off-balance imperial toward her to serve as shield. Holding the sword point to his neck, she calls out to the others in the camp at the top of her voice. "You call yourself Nords?! You let these Thalmor bastards order you around, polish their boots for them? I suppose you warm their bedrolls at night, too. KILL THEM! You can blame it on the Stormcloaks later. This might be your one chance to do something worthy of Sovngarde, you miserable cowards!" 

*

Tyrian turned to the Imperial Legate "I'd suggest you train your men a bit better, getting jumped like that. Though she is a unique sort, able to wave off the electricity." He drew his staff and spoke to the prisoner with the hostage "Take one more step and I will not hesitate to turn you both into a pile of ash." He turned to the Legate "Get your men to surround her, cut off escape routes." He then speaks to the Prisoner once again "What is it exactly that you want to gain from this? If anything if I wanted to kill you I'd've done so, if I wanted my men to kill you, I'd've told them to, alas you are still breathing... perhaps a surrender here is the proper thing to do? It'd stop you from being cut down, I can guarantee you that." 

Lorgar was really pissed off...he ignored the high-overseers orders, simply ordering his men to draw there weapons,

Fuck this, fuck everything...

"What the fuck where your men doing to her Tyrian, did I not tell you to treat her fucking gently!?" He was not only REALLY pissed off at the thalmor overseer, he was pissed off with the stormcloak prisoner,

"And YOU!!! Let my man fucking go or i'm going let the high-overseer take you" After venting out some steam, his face softened up a bit, and prepared for the backlash he was going to get from that annoying high elf, "If you let my man go, and drop your weapon, i'll get my men to escort you to my tent, and I wont let them hurt you again..." he signaled for his men to lower there weapons, 

The sailor turns to look at Lorgnar. “Where have I heard that before?” With disgust she throws the sword down to the ground. She’s losing steam, and obviously outnumbered. She had actually dared to hope some of the imperials were sick enough of the Thalmor for their own reasons, that they might take her up on her taunting suggestion.

Then, she sinks to her knees. In the adrenaline Rebec had hardly noticed the shocks of the Thalmor soldiers, weaker as they were than those of a high justiciar, but now her limbs feel like horker blubber. Eyes falling, she says with derision, “Do whatever you want with me. I already told the skirt everything I know. It’s his damned elven pride I wounded, that’s all.” 

As the prisoner fell to the ground, obviously due to the shock of being shocked, Lorgar ordered his men to fully sheaf there weapons. He slowly approached the unconscious nord, and as he reached her, he gently picked her up in his arms, 

"Willaims, Brutus, Scippili, follow me to my quarters..."

Before the Aldmeri overseer and his soldiers could raise any sort of protest, Lorgar addressed them with, yet again, fury in his voice,

"Don't say a word, I trusted you to handle the situation, and yet all you did was cause even more trouble. I let you have your interrogation, so now i'm taking the prisoner back into my custody" He sharply added, "You've already made me break a promise today, don't make me break another..." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Witch-king (aka Witchie)
Fort Neugrad
Morning

Witchie rose up from the chair leaving the crystal on it, still draining the khajiit on magicka. Left the prison and took the axe with him. Carrying the axe was quite a chore though. So he went back to the barracks and put it up against the wall besides the chair he had slept in. Then he remembered; the magical seals.

The captain must have forgotten. Best to get it over with before I leave.

He went to the captain's quarters.

"Do you want me to open the seals before I leave?"

Baldur was surprised to see Witchie so soon after his order to go to Falkreath. He didn't really take to the men in his fort, so he thought he wouldn't waste time to leave, especially when he was put in charge.

"I'm surprised to still see you here, Lieutenant. What exactly are you talking about? What seals?"

"The magical seals in the carriage. Wasn't the items protected by them for you?" Witchie got a gnawing feeling that something wasn't right. 

"Lieutenant, I know I've got a lot on my mind right now, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember something about magical wards. Stormcloaks aren't known for dealing with magic. Whatever you're talking about has nothing to do with me. Show me what you're talking about."

Baldur stood up, and signaled Witchie to lead him out the door.

"Let's make this quick. You need to make your way to Falkreath with the rest of the men. They need a leader." 

Witchie walked to the wagon in the fort. If it wasn't for the captain then it must be for someone outside the fort.

His suspicion was right. The presence of the magical seals could still be felt by the wagon. But the wagon itself was empty. The items must be hidden either with magic or inside the wagon. Before the captain could ask why they were standing by an empty wagon Witchie said:

"They're hidden and I bet the driver knows where."

And walked away back into the fort before the captain say a word again. The dunmer driver was sitting in the dining hall, eating breakfast. Though it was rather late and there were only a few soldiers there as well.

"Men. Leave!" he shouted.

The men rose up from the table and started to make their way from there. They weren't happy with being having their meal interrupted though. The dunmer must have thought was supposed to leve as well as he was starting to walk out the room. Witchie walked up the dunemr, grabbed his tunic and pulled him back.

"Not you."

"What do you want with me?" the dunmer asked, both suprised and a bit scared.

"Who was you supposed to deliver to next?" pulling the dunmer closer so he could look into his eyes. The dunmer was now getting scared.

"I'm not supposed to deliver to anyone. The wagon is empty. What would I be able to deliver with an empty wagon?"

Now the fun begins.

He punched the dunmer right in the guts with his right hand, while keeping the dunmer in place with the left holding the tunic. The dunmer moaned as the fist hit him and tried to bend over from the pain but wasn't able to, as he was still being held up by an iron grip.

"Witchie, wait up!"

Baldur was struggling to keep pace with his lieutenant after he took off from the empty wagon. Whatever this was about, Baldur did not like being left in the dark. Some disgruntled soldiers passed him by, greeting him as they did, and he overheard one of them say "What an ass, who does that Witch guy think he is anyway?" Baldur chuckled, but an agonizing cry whiped the smile off his face. He ran towards the direction of the dining room.

Witchie said to the dunmer, "There're items sealed with magic hidden in your wagon. How are they hidden and who are they to be delivered to?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." the dunmer squeezed out with the little voice he could muster, still shaken by the punch.

Wicthie grabbed his left shoulder. The dunmer started to scream as an ice spike was slowly seeking it's way deeper into the bones and flesh of his shoulder. The torment went on till the ice spike was sticking out on the other side.

"I'll talk! I'll talk!" screamed the dunmer, trying to hold back the tears. "Underneath the wagon is a small switch. It will open the side, revealing the bouble bottoms of the wagon. It was to be delivered to a Thalmor agent here in Falkreath Hold."

"Where exactly was you to deliver the items to?"

"I was to deliver them to a tower east of Falkreath. Peak's Shade Tower. At the tower I was to shout 'Blackmail' and then the Thalmor agent was to appear and take the items. That is all I know. I swear."

Witchie looked into the dunmer's eyes. He was too scared to lie. But the elf had now served his purpose in life. He formed a dagger made of ice in his right hand and stabbed the elf in the guts. While the dunmer's life was fading, a spell to capture his was soul was put on him. As souls could be used to enhance items, they could be used to enhance oneself. If one knew the right spells.
Witchie felt as the dunmer died in his grasp and his soul being consumed. The consumption of the soul made him feel younger and slightly more powerful. The dunmer's soul was probably in the Soul Cairn by now.
He dropped the lifeless body to the floor and walked out, back to the captain.

"The items were to be deliverd to a Thalmor agent." he said as he approached the captain. And then he started to search for the switch underneath the wagon. 

Baldur arrived in time to see a dead elf on the floor. After he just avoided torture with the Khajiit, Baldur was red hot pissed at what had just happened. He didn't have full control of himself when he sent a right hook in the direction of Witchie where his face would normally be. Witchie more than likely wouldn't expect this action from the Captain who normally is cool headed and not prone to outbursts of anger. 

Witchie had just found and activated the switch just to look up and find a fist flying towards his face. He had no time to duck. As the fist hit his face he instinctively raised his right hand and grasped the captain by the throat, raising him into the air with the help of a little magic. But he quickly realized that this was not something he should do. He dropped the captain so he landed on his feet. 

Baldur knew full well that Witchie may use magic on him, and he allowed it. If he tried assaulting him, Baldur would have an excuse to kill him where he stands. As Baldur was lifted off the ground, he put his hand on one of his war axes in preparation to throw it at his skull. Witchie ended up putting the Captain down before things escalated, to Baldur's disappointment. Baldur pulled out his axe to show the Witch he wasn't helpless.

"No, you don't get to choose who lives and dies. He was a non-combatant. We could have learned more info from him if you didn't kill him. If you weren't so quick to action, you would have realized this. To think, I distrusted elves and it's a Nord under my command that I have to keep an eye on! You are no longer in second command of this fort. You are hereby demoted. And if you ever use magic on me again, I WILL kill you. Count on it." 

"You can try. But I will have my vengeance on the elves sooner or later." 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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Boldir Iron-Brow, Baldur Red-Snow, Witch-King
Fort Neugrad
 

Boldir grumbled as he reached for a chair to sit on to finish his meal.
Who does that Witch King think he is? Barging in and ordering us out like that?
Boldir didn't trust that guy. Anybody who relies on illusions and hides his face is unfit to lead a group of true warriors. Certainly not the Necros. 

Baldur is smart. He must have his reasons to keep this guy in authority.

He sat down, only to stand right back greet the Captain as he stormed past Bodir after the witch. That's about right. Thought Boldir. How many times have I served with Baldur? I don't think he's even realized I'm here.

As he sat back down, Boldir decided that a chat could wait. He was hungry, and had already missed breakfast. For the third time, he went to his meal, only to be interrupted by the sounds of a grunt and a spell being cast. Boldir quickly shoved aside his plate, put on his helmet, and ran out the door after them. He followed the sound to find Baldur being lowered to the ground by the witch.
"Is everything okay over here?" He asked, positioning himself to pounce on the witch if called to. 

"You can sheathe your weapon, soldier. The situation is handled. Our fort mage here has just recently been demoted from second command. He still holds his rank, but he won't be ordering anyone around unless I and Reval were to die. Inform the other men of this when you get the chance."

Baldur looked to the man, thinking that he reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who. The man was wearing a helmet that covered his face, so Baldur couldn't tell from looking at him.

"Witchie, stay put while I talk to this man. We need to discuss this cart and your new duties."

Witchie put on the illusion again and turned his back on the captain to look what's inside the hidden storage. He didn't even bother with the man who ran up to them. What he found was a book, covered with runes that marked the seals. The seals counted five in total. The magic was foreign, but he recognized it enough to see that it was based on elven magic, at least the elven magic he remembers. This was most likely what the old elven magic had evolved to. Must be Thalmor magic. And the book must be damn important. 

Witchie was somewhat well versed in the old elven magic. At least enough to notice how some of this magic worked. But opening it would be damned near impossible, unless he wanted to spend the next age trying to figure it out. He could try and force the seals but that would probably destroy the book. He decided to give a try and started to focus. The seals was tough and the started to glow more intense and book was getting hotter. He stopped, continuing would damage the book and whatever was inside. Best way now was to either learn elven magic, again, or find an elven mage. I suddenly got one more reason to head to the tower. 

Baldur stepped away from the cart while Witchie proceeded with his investigation, and went to speak to the man in front of him.

"You sound familiar... Do I know you from somewhere?" 

Boldir chuckled and removed his helmet. "You should, friend." 

Baldur had a confused expression on his face when he heard the soldier's response, but he soon understood what he meant by his words. He couldn't believe his eyes. All this time, and his comrade in arms was serving right under his nose.

"Boldir? What the hell are you doing here? Last time I saw you was in Solitude! How have you been, friend?"

"I've been well, brother! I've tried to get a chance to speak with you, but between you playing dead and interrogating that Khajiit, it's been tough to gain an audience. The new armor suits you by the way. Maybe that'll deflect arrows better than what you had before. Speaking of, how's that wound healing?" 

"Ah it's nothing. A little sore, but mostly numb. My right arm hasn't gained all it's strength back though. First day on the job here, and I almost took a dirt nap, but enough about me. You've stumbled in at the perfect time, as I'm now in need of a new second in command. What do you think?"

"I'd be honored, sir. What would you have me do?"

"You don't need to call me sir. You can call me Baldur, Mr. Iron-Brow! I need someone to represent my authority to the Jarl of Falkreath. As you know, I already sent men there to protect the civilians, and patrol the roads. I need you to oversee their activities and lead the men in case of an attack, which is why I need a second in command to be there. You are hereby promoted to Lieutenant. Technically you and Reval still keep your original rank until Ulfric or someone else high up agrees to my recommendation, but the responsibilities I'm giving you go along with rank, so you'll be acknowledged accordingly. Do you accept?"

"Yes s- Baldur, of course. You know, things around we here were starting to get dull until you showed up. Falkreath will be dull by comparrison. I assume I'm to go immediately?"

"Indeed. Take what you need, and head there as soon as you can. Sorry we didn't get more time to speak, but I'll be coming to Falkreath myself soon, once this business with the cat is done. I'll see you soon my friend."

"Be careful with that guy. The way he surrendered yesterday, I don't like it. Something just doesn't add up."

"He better hope Reval returns with good news, or I'm gonna make him wish he was never born. Anyway, good luck friend. I'll see you soon. If anything goes wrong, send a messenger. We're not very far, so I'll get there pretty soon. Dismissed."

Baldur turned back to the witch. "Now, Witchie. Tell me what you discovered." 

Witchie showed the book to the captain so he could see the runes clearly.

"A book. You can't open it without extended knowledge in elven magic. So unless you want me to dress up like an high elf and travel to Summerset Isles and learn it, I would suggest we capture a Thalmor mage. I also know where the driver was supposed to meet the Thalmor agent. As you've now sent that man to Falkreath I guess you're going to send me to meet the agent."

Seems like being demoted was a good thing after all. Instead of being stuck in a town, I'm to hunt elves. 

Baldur was quite wary of sending Witchie on a mission on his own after he had just broken his trust, but with Boldir going to Falkreath, and Reval on a scouting mission, the best possible option besides himself, who of course has to stay in case the khajiit tries to escape, was Witchie.
At least this way if he kills someone, it'll be an actual enemy combatant.

"I ought to lock your ass in with that khajiit, and throw away the key, but sadly I don't have any more options. Anyway, this time it will be an actual Thalmor, so if you kill him, no harm done. But before you leave, I want you to personally go cremate that mer you killed, and take care of the mess. Put his ashes in an urn, and I'll give it to one of our dunmer companions to have it put wherever is best fitting according to their custom. He may have been a Thalmor agent, he may not have been. Delivering services extend to everyone. You may have killed an innocent man. Or you may not have. Either way, don't do it again. I find out, and my axe will be hanging from where your face should be."

With that, Baldur walked out and dismissed the Witch King, leaving him to his orders. 

It's always nice when your writing gets reinforced by the canon after you come up with it.

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