Civil War Aftermath

[The Good Doctor]

Boldir Iron-Brow
Just north of Camp Rommulas
 

This is it.

Boldir stood beside Baldur, a man he considered a brother. He looked over his shoulder at the hundred-odd comrades standing behind them. These were men and women who were willing to give their lives for the cause. They're worth more than a thousand Imperials.

His heart was pounding. Not because he was nervous. Battles don't really get to him anymore. Boldir's heart was pounding because his adrenalin was building up. It always did before a fight. He breathed deeply.

They stood alert, waiting just far enough in the dark forest to remain hidden from the camp. Word had already reached them of what Witchie's disappearance. The massacre of the Thalmor that came after was almost certainly not a coincidence. The thought angered Boldir, and he was pretty sure the Captain was of the same opinion. But that was for later. For now they would just wait for Reval to initiate the attack.
It's been over ten minutes. What's keeping you Reval?

Even as he thought this, a yell rang out from the southeast end of the camp.
"It's the Stormcloak! Get her!"

He put on his helmet, and turned to Baldur, who looked back. Boldir slowly nodded.

[The Good Doctor]

Reval was surprised when he heard the call. As he unsheathed his axe, he saw a woman before him. 

You're leading the men setting a trap for the imps? Well I'm the one who spoiled your surprise, and I'm the one they're looking for. They won't hesitate to chase me if they see me. You lot had better have your fancy steel ready when I get to you. I want to die at sea, not in this gods-forsaken forest."

Reval was shocked to see this woman stand before him. However, this shock quickly subsided. "If what you say is true, the Imperials will want you dead. If that's the case, you had better run for your life. You run at your own risk since we are not responsible if you get captured or killed by the Imperials. Are you willing to do this?" 

"Do you want those imperials dead or not?" Rebec replies impatiently. "I'm no coward, and apparently all my good sense has left me. So hurry up and let's do this before I change my mind."

Reval thought, "Perhaps she can be of use to us. However, I'm not so sure if she is telling the truth or just planning a trap. I should at least prepare a plan for her that can minimize any damage she could do if she is a spy. I need to gather some more information before I decide what to do."

Reval turned to the woman and asked, "So what is your preferred strategy?"

"I'll pretend I'm setting another fire, if I can get that close," Rebec answers, pulling out her lighter and showing it to him. "That should get them hopping mad. Then I run and you kill them. It seems pretty straightforward to me."

Reval nodded with the plan. "Alright, we'll go with your plan." 

However, Reval silently looked at some archers who understood it as a signal to follow the woman. Reval then turned to the woman and said, "Can I at least know the name of our bait before anything unfortunate can happen?"

The sailor is shaking her arms out, trying to get them to stop trembling, and glances back at Reval. "I'm Rebec Red-Eye. I fought in the Battle of Solitude, elf, so don't look at me like that. The Thalmor in that camp were torturing me and I want them dead more than anyone here. I can't imagine why a Dunmer would fight for Nords, but I suppose we both have our reasons." 

Reval then ordered the woman to run through to the Imperials so they can chase her.

Reval waited for a bit until he heard the Imperials yell. "Men, stay here until I get closer to the camp. On my word, I'll order you all to attack the camp. Wait for my yelling. 

Reval then snuck in the foilage while going to wear the shouts were coming from. "I hope this works" 

[The Good Doctor]

Rebec Red-Eye, Reval, Witch-King
Camp Rommulas
Damn Late
 

If she had ever been this scared in her life, Rebec couldn't remember when. Maneuvering back into the same deathtrap she had just escaped from, she tried not to think about the mages. It would take a very quick archer to get a shot off at her back as she ran, but if those Thalmor crippled or slowed her, the imperials would make short work of the rest.

No one cast any spells at her, however, and the imperials gave chase just as they had planned. Rebec runs for her life, breaking into the forest and through the Stormcloak ranks. She keeps running blindly, and might have kept on all the way to Falkreath and back to Solitude, but instead smacks into the arms of a rearguard sergeant. "Hold on there, lass," he says, calming her. The sailor's eyes go black for a minute as she collapses against him, chest heaving. "Did it work? Are they coming?" she gasps. "Listen for yourself," he says, gesturing toward the forest. Rebec turns her head, hearing the Nord war cries and the clash of weapons from the direction of the camp.

The kindly sergeant gives her water from his own canteen, wipes the sweat and mud from her face, and afterward hollers around for someone to help her arm herself for battle. "Take a minute, lass. Then go get your piece of Sovngarde."

Reval ran towards where he heard the yelling. "Now the Imperials are after her. That girl worked after all." Reval ran with all his might to the forest. As he hid from the large amount of Imperial soldiers chasing after the woman, Reval snuck to where he saw an assortment of various tents, each with many wolf-armor Imperials sharpening their weapons and looking eager for blood.

"The camp! Now to call the rest of the troops."

Reval took a horn from his pocket, pressed it to his lips, and blew to create an intensely large noise. "That should alert my fellow Stormcloaks to start the attack on this camp. Now to wait."

***

Witchie sat in a chair in Lorgar's tent reading the only two documents he had found there, two letters. The first one was from a relative in Solsthiem.

"To my dearest cousin, 

Hello Lorgar!!! Greetings from Solsthiem!!! How are you? We're doing quite fine here in the skaal village, though it's getting really chilly, as in really chilly. How is the climate in Skyrim? I heard it depends on the area your staying at. Anyway, Skorn and Morwen (Especially Morwen..and me) miss you dearly and tell me to send their love to you. We hope you get leave soon, so you can visit us. We all miss you, stay safe and teach those rebels a lesson.

Love ( Hug Hug Hug... kiss, kiss, kiss hug), Frea"

The letter was of no importance unless he wanted to break an already broken man. But the second letter more interesting.

"To Legate Lorgar Grim-Maw, IX Cohort 4th legion (Do not show anyone this letter) 

Lorgar old buddy, how have you been? Holding out against the stormcloaks eh? I'm...sorry about General Tullius, I know you considered him a brother, as did I. Another reason to hate Ulfric eh? Anyway, I'm sending this letter as a warning; things are getting very hot here in Cyrodiil ever since Emperor Mede II was assassinated. Emperor Amaund is... causing turmoil in regards to the military. He is pushing a large amount of sanctions that heavily favour the Dominion, such as re-deploying a good deal of our legionaries from the border, and trying to sanction "free-trade" with them. Most of the Elder Council support him, along with a good deal of higher ups in the military. I, have of course, formally protested against this, along with a handful of others., they ignore us...No ignore is not the word...General Merty and Rommulas, they were formally "dismissed" after raising the topic too many times. Most of the elder councillors who tried to counter the emperor have...disappeared. Everthing that me, you, and Tullius worked for is…falling apart…the Dominion cannot prevail, if the politicians continue this...you know what we have to do. We will fight…or die trying. Hey, it’s what we do best, we die standing…Be safe old friend…you mean a lot to me…I don’t…want another close comrade to die on me…

From, General Marius Imperius, Sixth Legion, 4th Cohort"

Fool of an emperor.  This letter was a bit more important so he stuffed it into his pocket inside the robe. Someone yelled something outside and then things started to stir in camp. It was probably the decoy. Witchie went out to see, now disguised as regular imperial as Lorgar's appearance would draw too much attention. He went to the southern part of the camp and saw the legionnaires chasing someone into the woods. So far everything went according the plan. But then Witchie saw a figure at the edge of the forest. It was Reval and he was about to blow a horn.

Not this time elf.

A spell with the most extreme subtlety was was now being cast at the elf and his horn. No one but himself was going to hear the signal. And the spell was succesful, no sound was heard and it took several seconds, almost a minute, for Reval to notice that something was wrong. Now he only needed to expose him.

"There! I see a Stormcloak!" Witchie shouted to the others in the camp and pointed at the dunmer. The legionnaires were quick to act and started to surround him. Another Stormcloak approached the elf and talked a little with him before noticing the imperials. Witchie backed off slowly till he was sure no one would notice him slip away. He then snuck into a tent but this time he wasn't so lucky, it was filled with imperials strapping on their armor in a hurry. But no one payed him any attention and he managed to sneak out before anyone even looked at him. The next tent didn't give much privacy either as he found two legionnaires, an imperial woman and a nord man, entrenched in a deep kiss. They had half their armor on and whether they were about to put on or take off the rest he didn't stay around long enough to find out. Third time proved to be more fruitful as that tent was empty. He shed the disguise and started to wait for battle to really ensue.
It wasn't long before the clashing of the battle got more intense. Witchie left the tent and walked back to where he had exposed the elf.
 

***

As Reval waited for the troops to come, he noticed that there was practically no sound of movement in the area, apart from the Imperials. "What is going on? The horn was as loud as humanly possible and surely should have brought some attention. Even if the troops were slow, there still should have been some kind of noise from their arrival. Something isn't right," said Reval, who proceeded to feel a bit worried about what was going on.

Just as Reval was about to blow the horn again, an Imperial scout shouted, "There! I see a Stormcloak!" Reval was shocked at this. He was surprised that he had been so focused on waiting for the troops that he didn't realize he wasn't sneaking. As the Imperial camp gathered around, Reval took notice of the Stormcloak archer he ordered to follow the woman.

"Where are the rest of the troops," asked Reval. "What other troops? I'm only here because I was trying to find you. The woman was telling the truth and is leading the Imperials away. What are you..." Just then, the archer noticed the Imperials gathering around Reval. "By the gods, why didn't you warn the others," asked the archer. "I was trying to tell everyone. It seems as though nobody heard me." The archer said, "Aye. I didn't hear anything when I saw you blowing that horn. I thought you were simply practicing." Reval replied, "This is no practice. The attack has to begin now. Since nobody heard the horn for some reason, you must inform them." The archer was shocked and replied, "But you will be here alone. What will you do?" Reval chuckled and simply replied, "If this camp still survives, we won't end this battle right now. The location is too important to lose. Go now!"

As the archer left, Reval unsheathed his axe and looked at the gathering group of Imperials which began to surround him. "Guess its time to teach you Imperials a lesson," said Reval, as he smirked.

As Rebec is hastily getting armored, she hears the war cry of the main force as they charge into the camp. The fear from being dangled in front of the imperials abates and is replaced by zeal to fight. Those in the rear guard around her are shaking their fists and shouting, as well, eager to join in. Their orders are to hold and protect the rear, but Rebec has no such orders. As soon as she is fitted out in a leather cuirass and helmet and two war axes, she charges back into the forest.

She runs into a clearing just in time to see two Stormcloaks finishing off a lone imperial. The fighting in the forest is still fierce, but they all turn to look as the sound of triumphant cries come from one side of the camp. These don't sound like Stormcloak calls. "The lieutenant went in that direction," one of them says, "trying to flank." "The Dunmer?" Rebec asks, and the other nods in reply. They all agree to stick together and head in that direction.

The three Stormcloaks break through the forest into a camp clearing that is a frenzy of fire and blood. Men are screaming, in rage and in pain. The imperials are trying to regroup at the center of the camp, calling encouragement to each other, some of them appearing too wounded to even be on their feet. Any lesser army would have routed by now, but these are legionnaires.

Rebec looks around for the Dunmer officer, and as some smoke clears she finally sees him far off to her left, being encircled by imperials with not a Stormcloak uniform anywhere nearby. Her heart sinks. "There!" she yells at her companions. "Come on, he's not going to last!" Before they get even a few feet, however, imperials giving way from the crush of the Stormcloak main force see them and turn to engage. Soon Rebec is fighting for her own life, her axes swinging.

The Imperials surrounded Reval, each soldier brandishing their blade. One soldier remarked, "Never thought I'd ever see one of your kind as a rebel. I'll be sure to wear your ears as a necklace to commemorate this wondrous moment."

Reval snarled and said, "Not before I add you fingers to my collection like your friends before!"

Unleashing his Ancestor's Wrath, Reval cloaked himself in fire. The nearby Imperials were burned severely by the flames. As many soldiers writhed on the floor in pain, their cries of agony filling the forest. As Reval walked past the charred remains of the Imperials, Reval turned to an even larger gathering of Imperial soldiers right in front of him. Reval proclaimed, "Was this little display not enough for you?! You may kill me, but the spirit of the rebellion will live on. So long as I draw breath, you will never take me!"

Reval conjured up two Dremora Lords and charged into the fray with his daedra. Several Imperial soldiers were beheaded, eviscerated, and slaughered by the Dremora who took no prisoners in the camp. As Reval cleaved his axe into an Imperials head, Reval couldn't notice an Imperial archer who launched an arrow right in his left shoulder.

"ARRGH! Azura curse you," yelled Reval who threw a fireball at the archer, instantly incinerating them. The distraction left Reval vulnerable, as an Imperial solider was able to land as slash on Reval chest. His armor blocked most of the damage, but the blade still left fresh blood. Reval responded by placing his hand on the Imperial soldier's face and unleashed a fireball spell.

"From my blood flows the hatred my people and the Nords feel against Imperial rule. You may think you are doing the right thing, but the Empire is nothing more than a decaying carcass just ready to topple. You are doing nothing but acting as flies to feed your vulture of an Emperor. May Molag Bal spit on you and the entire Empire!"

Reval grabbed him amulet and whispered, "Well mother and father, it seems the Empire is going to take one more child of Morrowind. At least I will give them a fight they'll never forget!"

Reval charged at an Imperial soldier, but several arrows proceeded to pierce his armor and damage him. Despite the blood loss, Reval would not give up. Acting as though he wasn't in pain, Reval readied another spell and proclaimed, "If arrows are the best you soldiers can give, then you are truly doomed!"

There is a sudden pause in the fighting as Stormcloak and imperial alike hear a whoosh of fire and the profane calls of dremora. Rebec turns, blood still dripping from her axe. Her eyes widen. Where the Dunmer officer had been is now a moving wraith of fire. The imperials surrounding him fall back at first, then as they see their comrades dying in agony, regroup with battle fervor and begin assaulting him again.

In the chaos, a stray arrow catches Rebec in the shoulder, half-spinning her and causing one of her axes to drop. As she wavers on her feet, the shadow of an imperial soldier in wolf armor suddenly rears up before her. Rebec barely brings her other axe up in time to parry his sword blow. Falling back on her heels, she scrambles wildly in the gore and mud, pain shooting down her side. The imperial raises his blade to strike at her again, roaring as he senses an impending kill. 

Rebec stares death in the face, and only has time to think: No, not like this. The moment seems to last forever, as if time had slowed itself, but in reality the imperial about to finish her had stopped short, his sword still in the air and a bloody shard of ice protruding from his chest. Both he and Rebec look at it dumbly for a moment, then the imperial sinks to the ground and falls forward. Wildly she looks around for the spellcaster, thinking the ice spike must have been aimed for her, but where she had expected to see the justiciar is the strange robed Stormcloak she had seen outside the fort.

Then one of the Stormcloaks she had met in the clearing finds her and helps her to her feet, drawing her back towards the tree line. The fighting has moved away from them, the imperials' last remnant of organization collapsing. At the forest edge Rebec stops, and with a grimace pulls out the arrow from her shoulder. The leather cuirass had prevented it from going too deep. She looks at it, curses and throws it aside. It has a blue and white fletch- a Stormcloak arrow.

"My axes," she says, starting back towards the clearing. The other Stormcloak stops her. "I'll get them. You're no good like that. Go back and help hold the perimeter." Reluctantly the sailor relents, her long ordeal of the previous days taking its toll alongside her injury. With a last look back toward the clearing, she sees the flame cloak of the Dunmer officer grow briefly brighter and then disappear. 

***

Walking in the shadows and bending them to make him almost invisible. Reval was still standing even though he filled with enough arrows that he was still alive was a feat. But he was not long for this world.
More Stormcloaks came charging to his aid but their advance is soon halted by some of the imperials in wolf armor.

Now the fun begins. Witchie sees the back of an legionnaire in wolf armor standing over a downed female Stormcloak, raising his sword for the final blow. An ice spike severs his spine at the root of his neck before the sword is even fully raised. The other legionnaires notice this and starts to charge him. Witchie quickly summons two frost atronachs to his aid and the wolf clad legionnaires find themselves clashing with solid ice giants. In the cover the two frost giants he starts casting casting ice spikes and some ice storms when there was no Stormcloak in the way. And in the distance the captain could be seen fighting and slowly making his way towards source of all the ice spells. 

[The Good Doctor]

Baldur Red-Snow, Boldir Iron-Brow
Camp Rommulas
Night
 

"Okay, men! For Skyrim! Charge!"

The final onslaught had finally began, although the Imperials didn't know it. Baldur and Boldir had waited about five minutes for the Imperials to wage war, so that they would be well distracted when his men came in. The soldier's roars were deafening. The sound of metal clanking, and heavy boots stomping in the grass and mud, the energetic cries for blood, all of it routine just before blood was spilled. Baldur remembers the feeling. Getting angry to calm the nerves and excitement. To focus one's mind so the killing can be done efficiently. And efficient it was. As the men charged the forest, the archers in the back were completely taken off guard.

Some of them ran away, but only to come back so that they could shoot from cover. The stormcloak archers had them covered however, and ended their lives quickly, sending the arrows through their exposed necks, groin, armpits, or anywhere else they could get a shot on them. Others simply charged off until they found them, and executed them. Then they rejoined the ranks. The stormcloaks then regrouped, and got behind the Necro Nord forces who led the charge with Baldur and Boldir in the front. The Necro Nords had Battle Axes, Claymores and Warhammers in the front for the ambush from behind, which cut down many of the Imperial men.

"Boldir! Watch your right!"

A big nord legionnaire soldier was wielding a big hammer, and he swung it with the strength of a seasoned warrior as quick as a rookie would a dagger straight to the direction of Boldir's chest.

Boldir didn't hesitate. Upon hearing Baldur, he turned his head and saw the incoming hammer out of the corner of his eye. With a speed greater than one would expect from a man so heavily armored, Boldir threw himself to the left and rolled out of harms way and came into a low stance facing his assailant. It was a massive Nord in the wolf armor wielding a large warhmer. The Nord was pulling back his hammer from the missed swing. Boldir seized the moment and raised his own axe high. He brought it down in a powerful swing that the Nord barely managed to block by raising his hammer and catching the axe with the haft, locking them together. Boldir swung his left arm under the lock, bashing the soldier in the groin with his hilt. The soldier recoiled and Boldir followed up with a downward blow to the man's left arm, severing it completly. Blood gushed all over Boldir's armor as the Nord dropped to the ground. He turned back to Baldur. "Thanks, friend."

Boldir dodged a blow on his left side from another soldier. This one just wearing standard gear. He swung his weight around with the dodge and used the extra momentum to decapitate the man. There would be plenty more like him tonight.

"Yea, no problem."

While Boldir was busy, Baldur was preoccupied himself. For this battle, Baldur was wielding only one waraxe, and the other was holstered, so that his left hand could wield his Nordic Carved shield. The Imperial in front of him was giving him a tough time. He was wielding a sword and a shield of ebony make. Baldur hooked his shield and pulled it down with his axe, and used his shield to smack him in his forehead. The impact dented his helmet, and fractured his skull, incapacitating him immediately. As Baldur moved on to his next opponent, he recieved a blow from behind.

"Uh, sorry sir!"

It was one of the recruits. He was showing great promise, but he let the battle fury overcome him, swinging around two swords wildly. Before he struck Baldur, he had slit one legion soldier's throat, and another had his eye cut, and was impaled by a greatsword through his shoulder from behind by a Necro Nord. The hit was a glancing blow to Baldur and did no damage.

"Don't worry about it, jus-"

Baldur got tackled while he was distracted by the man he was just fighting who had his weapon knocked out of his hands by Baldur's shield. The soldier grabbed Baldur's right hand and banged it to the ground until he dropped his weapon. Baldur who dropped his shield when he was tackled used his left hand to grab the soldier's head. The soldier loosened his grip and allowed him to grab his head with his right hand, and attempted to snap his neck. The soldier would not allow it however. Baldur slipped his thumb's into the eyes of the man instead, and tried gouging his eyes out.

An enemy soldier tripped over them, and knocked the man off of Baldur. Baldur got up and pressed his thumbs through the man's eye socket as hard as he could. The soldier's blood curdling cries was able to be heard even among all the chaos. Once Baldur finally pressed his thumbs all the way in, the man stopped moving, his soul having been departed to Sovngarde. Thick dark blood and chunks flew up into Baldur's right eye, blinding it temporarily until he wiped it out.

The soldier who tripped over them picked up Baldur's axe and was about to swing at him from behind while Baldur cleared out his eye, when Baldur upholstered his other axe, got off the ground, then he pivoted to his right 180 degrees, then parried the blow. Then Baldur slammed his axe into the man's shoulder, then took his other axe out of his hand, then he pulled his other axe from his shoulder, using his boot to push him away, taking the axe out, then he let him drop.

Baldur scowled at the soldier that distracted him for putting him in that predicament.

"S-sorry, sir!"

"Just be careful and keep your eyes open!"

Baldur went back into the fray next to Boldir after he picked up his shield, and continued the onslaught.

These Wolf-men are getting to be a real pain. Thought Boldir as he dispatched his fourth that night. The majority of the troops were normal soldiers, and were no challenge for a Necro Nord to dispatch. But the ones in wolf armor were another beast entirely. They wielded many different weapons and they had the skill to back them. Boldir was making it a point to search for these elite soldiers so that he could deal with them before they could bring about many casualties. He spotted another one about fifteen yards away, currently locked in combat with a Dark Elf grunt.

Boldir pushed past two Stormcloaks and killed an Imperial as he worked his way through the battlefield to his target, who had just killed the Elf he'd been fighting. Boldir charged toward the Wolf-man from the side. As the man turned to face Boldir, he could see that this was no man at all, but an Orc. The Wolf-Orc deflected Boldir's initial blow with his right hand mace, and swung the mace in his left hand toward Boldir's head. He ducked. As he rose, Boldir sprang face first into the large Orc, bashing the Orc's unprotected face in with his own helmeted one. The Orc stood dazed for a brief moment before Boldir head-butted him again, and again. As Boldir reared back, the Orc slumped to the ground, his face bloody and disfigured. Boldir's own helmet was now painted red with blood.

Boldir looked around and realized that he was now at the very edge of the battle, with the majority of the fighting spread out across the area where Reval's forces lured the Imperials. Boldir charged back into the heated battle. He saw Baldur dispatch a soldier not far to his left. This is going well. He thought. And he was right. The numbers of casualties on the Stormcloak side was minimal. The Imperials however, were being slaughtered. As he thought of this, he saw three Wolf-men charging Baldur from behind just a few feet away.

"Baldur! Behind you!" 

Even as be yelled the warning, Boldir rushed to his friend's side and deflected a sword blow aimed for the Captain. He kicked back the man in the lead back a couple feet and stood by the Captain's side.

"Thanks for the heads up!"

Baldur rolled to his right, which positioned him on the other side of the men from behind. He and Boldir had the two closed in. Then Baldur threw his axe at the face of one of the soldiers and dropped him immediately. After that, he took out his other axe and Baldur deflected a sword blow with his shield from the other soldier and booted him in the chest in the direction of Boldir.

"All yours, Iron-Brow."

As the soldier stumbled back toward Boldir, he dug the hilt of his axe handle into the back of the man's calf, forcing him to his knees. Boldir put a boot to the solider's back and forced him to the ground. He then put his heavy armored right foot above the screaming man's head and stomped down hard, crushing his skull in. As he did this, the third soldier who'd rejoined the fight swung and locked weapons with Boldir, who overpowered him and threw him back several feet, where he tripped and fell backwards over his friend that Baldur had just slain.

"My turn!"

Baldur mimicked his friend, and placed his left foot on the man's back after he rolled over to get up, then he proceeded with his right foot to stomp the soldier's skull in as well.

"What can I say? I like your style."

Boldir grinned under his helmet. "Then you may want to take some notes." Another Imperial charged Boldir, he dodged the man's sword swipe and punched him hard in the face, bloodying it up and sending him to the ground. Boldir raised his axe in both hands and brought it down at the Imperial's neck, decapitating him. As the head rolled off, Boldir surveyed the battlefield. He and Baldur stood not far from the edge of the forest towards the clearing. The Imperials were quickly losing men to the Stormcloak onslaught. Many people still fought where they stood, but it seemed that the worst of it had shifted to the eastern front, where Reval's men were. Boldir used this rare moment of respite to turn to Baldur.

"I'm going to make my way east and meet up with Reval and his men. It looks like that's where the help is most needed." 

Baldur saw ahead a dark figure in between two frost atronachs slinging frost storms and ice spikes into the crowd of imperial forces ahead.

"Good idea. Lets go meet up with him. Lead the way. I'll have your back lieutenant. Just follow the ice spells. Reval should be around there with Witchie." 

[The Good Doctor]

Tribune Gabriel Angeilos


Fuck this...

Tribune Angelos stood back to back with his fellow legionaries, trying to hold the stormcloak force at bay. They were losing. Dozens of imperials had already fallen, along with dozens of stormcloaks. The last wave had severely depleted Aneglos force, and as Angelos glanced to his left and right, only half-a dozen imperial soldier remained.

Fucking waste of life-

Before he could ponder more on the meaninglessness of the conflict, he heard one of his men scream out,

"Sir, there charging, again!!!!!"

He was right, the Tribune could spot around four dozen Stormcloaks charging his position from the treeline. And they looked really pissed.

Fuck this...

The Tribune could notice his soldiers' were starting to flinch and look away from the advancing stormcloak line. The tribune wouldn't have that.

"What the fuck are you pussies doing?! Wanna run over to you mommies and drink some milk?! Those stormcloaks want to kill you and your comrades, you going to run away without fighting?! You are legionaries, are sacred duty is to guard the empire. Those savages want to take what we value most, our lives, our empire...will you let them do that?!

No's and cries of anger erupted from the squad of soldiers. Angelos smiled. If he was to die, he would't have it ever way. Angelos raised his voice, so this time the incoming stormcloaks could hear him, faced the incoming charge, and he drew his pair of ebony knives and shouted,

"What are we going to do, legionaries? The stormcloaks over there seem so lonely...why don't we give them some company? FUCKING COUNTER CHARGE THEM MEN, FOR THE EMPIRE!!!!"

And with that that the seven legionaries charged the incoming horde.

Until a volley of arrows singed forth threw the treeline, showering the seven imperials with arrow fire. Half of his men where killed in a instant, while the other half were wounded from the arrow fire. The tribune himself had an arrow in his chest and left leg. The pain was overwhelming bad. while the red liquids hotly poured down his wounded chest and leg.

Fuck...fuck them...

The Tribune, ignoring the pain and his wounds, continued the charge, and without wasting any time attacked the first stormcloak he saw. He was a dumner, and was clad in standard stormcloak armor. The armor felt like paper as Angelos stabbed his ebony dagger into the soldier's shoulder. He went to the next one, this time having to dodge a sword blow to the stomach, and impale him with his two blades. Another one fell before him, with a dagger stab to the eye. And another, and another. The tribune was in a trace, the only thing he thought was to kill more enemies. After his eighth kill, he knew he was surrounded on all sides by the stormcloaks, and all his men were dead. The stormcloaks foolish enough to charge the tribune were cut down by his blades. And by his twelve kill, Aneglos was covered in blood and cuts. By then, most of the stormcloak where utterly terrified of him, and where starting to back off shields raised. The tribune, screamed at them in rage,

"IS THAT ALL YOU FUCKING GOT?! YOU SO CALLED "SONS OF SKYRIM?!"

As he muttered those words a dozen arrows came screaming towards the Tribune, each hit there mark and pierced the Tribune's soft flesh. Blood started to pour from his mouth as he just stood there covered in the arrows, moving slightly wobbly...The tribune took one last step towards the stormcloaks before falling into the welcoming abyss...Angelos felt no more. 

[The Good Doctor]

Captain Baldur Red-Snow and Boldir Iron-Brow
Imperial Camp Battle
Night

Baldur and Boldir fought their way through and around the Imperial forces on the outskirt of the battle until they finally made their way to the Witch King.

"Witchie, where's Reval?"

"When I got here I saw that he was filled with arrows. I bet you can find his corpse over there." Witchie pointed in the direction of where he last saw Reval.

Baldur just stood there glaring at him as the Witch King's words stung his ears. Anger filled his heart after the shock had left him and he wanted to take his anger out on the Witch King for his words, but he let it go.

I'll save it for the bastards who did this.

"Boldir, lets go."

Boldir didn't hear the command. He stood there, staring across the at the lifeless body of this man who he'd only just befriended today, but considered a brother. He pondered the situation. This doesn't make sense. Reval was never meant to be alone like that. Boldir glanced at the Captain.

Baldur looked upon Reval's dead body as if it wasn't even there. His hatred for the Imperials began to swell within him, and his teeth began to clench as he struggled to keep his composure. I must stay strong for him. After all soldiers were... 
"No! fuck that horker shit. Boldir, how the fuck could this have happened? Where were his men? WHERE THE FUCK WERE HIS MEN!? He was by himself it seems, and killed all these enemy soldiers himself when he shouldn't have had to. If this is because he's a Dark Elf, I swear someone's getting my axe to their face!"

Boldir was as furious as the Captain. This wasn't the result of Reval's own mistakes, he never would've gotten split up like that.

Boldir glanced over at Witchie, his eyes narrowed behind his visor.

Baldur out of his anger decapitated an already dead legionnaire with the axe in his right hand.

"Someone will have hell to pay if I figure this out! By Talos I swear it!"

"You're damn right! But for now let's deal the bastards that got him."

Boldir and Baldur charged back into the fray with the anger of men who just lost a brother. Baldur kept his cool while in combat, but he became more vindictive with his kills. He grabbed one of the legionnaire Wolf Pack men from behind, and threw him down to the ground, then he unsheathed his axe, and began hacking at the man's groin instead of going for the quick kill. The man's cries of pain sounded like that of a newborn's.

Baldur had reduced the man to a boy again with his cruelty, and he just kept hacking and hacking through the man's armor in the groin area protected merely by the leather on the armor's skirt, which Baldur had long since cut through. The man tried protecting himself by covering his groin with his hands, and Balfur simply cut through it, refusing to stop. The soldier finally was dead from shock, and Baldur moved to his next victim, the kill being equally as cruel as the last. This time, Baldur swept a legionnaire off his feet with his axe, and made him land face first into the dirt, and he sheathed his axe, and placed his foot on his back, and put his arms behind his back as if he was going to bind them by the forearms.

Then he violently pushed them up as far as he could until he heard the snap signifying he pushed the man's arms out of his sockets. Then Baldur left him there and moved on to the next target. The man who was now wailing from the agonizing sensation he could barely call pain due to it's abnormal intensity managed to get up without his now nonfunctional arms only to have a Stormcloak shove a longsword up his neck through the top of his skull after he did so. The Stormcloak men grew uneasy at the cruelty born from Baldur's sorrow for his lost companion that he never got a chance to really know.

Boldir, beside his friend, charged for the first of what must've been a dozen Imperials unfortunate enough to have been standing around Reval's body at the time. He brought his axe in close and charged into the closest man, impaling him with the point of the weapon. He kicked the soldier off while pulling his weapon free and turned to see Baldur brutally and yet somehow calmly mutilating the nether-regions of a Wolf-man. Boldir couldn't stand around and watch. Another Imperial, this one a Wolf-man, was upon him. He dodged a claymore blow to his left that barely glanced off his armor. As he spun around, he brought his axe with him and sent it between the Imperials's ribs and buried it halfway into his torso. Boldir didn't have time to pull it out. As the man fell, he let go of the weapon and dodged another blow from a Breton, drawing his own Nordic carved war axe from its sheath as he did so. He blocked an attack from the Breton and as he did, drove his axe down the inner side of the Breton's sword and cut off the man's hand. Boldir kicked the screaming Breton to the ground and drew his shield.

No help had arrived yet. Boldir turned and looked at Baldur, who was busy breaking a man's arms. Two Imperials rushed the distracted Captain. Boldir charged them with his shield raised, knocking the front man into the second and causing them to trip. Before he could finish them, a third man to his right slashed at Boldir with his sword, which he barely managed to raise his own axe in time to block. He spun around and bashed his assailant with his shield. As the man stumbled back, the other two were already back on their feet and after Boldir. He raised his shield and blocked a blow from the one in the front, who stepped forward just a little too far. Boldir shield bashed the man in his gut and hammered him in his forehead with the hilt of his axe, making the man go cross-eyed before dropping. Before he hit the ground, the other two men plus an additional two were upon Boldir, who was so desperately trying to block and parry the mass of attacks, that he was not getting any chances to attack himself.

Boldir backed up a step and briefly glanced to his left to see a single Stormcloak finishing off the Captain's second victim. The Captain himself was brutalizing a yet another man in a similarly gruesome manner to the others.
"Baldur, snap out of it! I need you focused here!"

"I am focused. I know what I'm doing."

Baldur was well aware of his surroundings and knew when the enemy were trying to rush him as he went on his cruel killing spree. He wondered how the death of one that he just met could cause him to become so angry. Angry really wasn't even the right word. More like...wrathful.

You want focused? Heh, I'll show you focused.

Baldur put his shield on his back, and started slashing and cutting like one touched by Sheogorath himself, ignoring blows and letting his armor protect him when needed. An imperial soldier tried slashing at Baldur's face, and Baldur looked down and let his bear helmet deflect the blow, then Baldur lifted his left leg, and stomped the soldier's knee in. The crunch and scream sent shivers down the spines of nearby soldiers, stormcloak and imperial alike. Then Baldur took the other man's leg after he fell and did the same. After the man passed out from the pain, he ended his life by stomping his face in.

"Next in line please!"

Two wolf-pack Imperial men tried to close line Baldur's head off with battle axes. Baldur simply threw both of his axes in their faces when they got close, then yanked them out and moved on. A normal imperial soldier was looking at this, terrified, when Baldur spotted him. Baldur gave no battle cries, no sneers, nothing. His mind was simply clear to the point of his senses feeling especially acute. He thought he could hear the man's heart beat in fear. The sweat from his face hit the grass, his breathing, his blood flowing, waiting to be spilled.

Can I really hear these things, or am I imagining it?

Baldur didn't care. He just moved closer to his next victim silently and slowly like a wraith glides across a room in the pitch blackness of a forgotten barrow. An arrow striked Baldur's shoulder, but was deflected off of the armor. Baldur didn't hear it, nor could he hear anything but the man in front of him. He was aware of the other men, but he was too focused on his prey. The man tried to run, but Baldur threw an axe in the back of his knee before he got too far. The man apparently was a battle mage, as he started shooting a long strip of flame in the direction of Baldur's face. Baldur simply turned around, and had his shield which was now slightly orange from the heat block the fire after he crouched down to make himself smaller.

When the man was done, Baldur took the shield up into his left hand, still hot, and said to him in a whisper to his ears after he reached him, "Don't you know that they call me...The Unkindled?"

Then Baldur pressed his shield into the man's face and let it stay there until he ceased to be. The sizzle and pop of his skin along with the smell of burnt flesh, urine and fecal matter when he stopped squirming from the pain made him a little sick, and almost snapped him out of his vindictive mood. Almost.

Boldir was too busy fending off the numerous Imperials ganging up on him to acknowledge Baldur's words. One of them, a big Wolf-man Nord, tried to circle around to Boldir's left side. Boldir took a step back, and saw as Baldur quickly decimated one of the four assailants before moving past, as the man dropped, Boldir launched forward at the Wolf-man and bashed him in the face with his shield. As the man tried to recover, a second Imperial sprung forward with a sword and swiped at Boldir, who easily caught the blow with his axe and kicked the man to the ground, causing him to drop the weapon. Boldir sunk his waraxe deep into the collar of the Wolf-man, before he could pull it out, the final Imperial swung his own axe at Boldir's right side, forcing him to let go of his axe and catch the man's arm before he could complete the swing. He tackled the Imperial to the ground and punched him as hard as he could in the face, he felt a crunch when the blow landed and his gauntleted hand came back covered in blood.

Boldir rose off the dead man. He looked to the remainder of the troops in the area. Baldur was fighting a Wolf-man to Boldir's left. The disarmed Imperial had dropped to his knees, other than Baldur's current victim, he was the last survivor of the many who'd previously been around Reval. The man made no effort to pick up his sword. Boldir walked past the whimpering man. Typical Imperial. He went over to the corpse his battleaxe rested in and pulled it free. Boldir returned to the pathetic Imperial, whose eyes widened.

"NO PLEASE! Please! I'll do anything! Just let me live! Please No!
Boldir pushed the man to the ground and slowly raised his axe in the air. The man was now bawling at the top of his lungs.
Pleaaase! Sir, I'll leave the army! Just don't kill me plea-
The Imperial's head rolled several inches as Boldir raised his axe back up and rested it on his shoulder. He reclaimed his waraxe and sheathed it. He slung his shield onto his back. He looked over at Baldur, who was just finishing off brutalizing the Wolf-man he'd been dealing with.

Boldir walked past him toward the body of Reval. He looked at the corpse of his fallen brother. It was filled with many arrows and wounds. It must've taken a lot to being him down. The man was a fighter to be sure. Boldir spotted something poking out from under the body. He crouched down and pulled it out. What the? It was a horn. Boldir knew for certain that there had been no horn signaling the battle. Boldir put it back beside Reval's body. I can worry about this later.

Boldir turned back to his friend. "Baldur... We need to move on. Finish this battle before worrying about him."

"I'm not. I'm more worried about the men I'm about to kill."

Boldir nodded. "Then lead the way." 

[The Good Doctor]

Baldur Red-snow and Boldier Iron-Brow
Falkreath forest, battlefield
Twenty minutes later

Boldir was walking along the Captain across the clearing, where much of the fighting had shifted to. Since he and Baldur left Reval's corpse, they'd stuck together for the entirety of the battle. Killing more enemies together than any other five men on either side. By now, the worst of the fighting had stopped, and it was getting difficult to find Imperials among all the Stormcloaks.

Boldir nudged Baldur and pointed to their left. Just by the edge of the woods, two Wolf-men covered the retreat of three normal Imperial soldiers. Even as they roared for more Stormcloaks to come at them, a volley of arrows flew past and killed all three fleeing Imperials. The Wolf-men howled and charged into the clearing, only to be filled with arrows themselves. Everywhere Boldir looked there were corpses. Stormcloak were soldiers running to and fro, most looking for survivors to execute.

The only threatening number of Imperial forces that remained was around the southern edge of the Camp, which is where Boldir and Baldur were heading now. They could hear the clashing of steel as they got closer.
"Looks like we're almost done here 'eh Captain?"

"Yes. Let's bring this to an end."

Baldur called out to the men and ordered them to stop fighting, and to surround the remaining Imperial troops. There were in total only twelve men left on their side. Baldur had the men gather their dead and to give him a casualty report.

"So, Boldir, what's the casualty report look like?"

"We've got around seventy wounded, most of them minor from what I can tell. I'd say there's about half that in casualties."

"So about 3 score and a little under a score have some scars to show off and new stories to tell, and only half that getting their butts kicked in a drinking contest with Ysgramor in Sovngarde. Not bad. Looks like the pincer movement we pulled did it's job. Have the men strip the camp of valuables, weapons, supplies and any coin they may have. We'll take that with us, along with our dead then go back to Falkreath to bury them. And have some soldiers bring the prisoners to me."

Boldir nodded and turned to a Necro Nord he knew. "Hey Falund! Get over here!"

The large Nord jogged over to the Lieutenant.

"Yeah Bol-Er.. Sir?"

"I need you to gather up as many men as you need and clear this camp of anything worth taking. Leave no stone unturned. This was an elite group, they're bound to have some good equipment that you won't get in a normal camp. I want all of it brought back to Falkreath."

"Anything else sir?"

"Yes, I also need you to arrange for the dead to be moved. I want every dead Stormcloak accounted for. We'll be bringing them back to Falkreath for burriel. That is all Falund, you're dismissed."

As Falund headed off to gather the men he needed, Boldir walked back to the group surrounding the twelve remaining Imperials, who turned out to all be Wolf-men. They stood in a semicircle, waiting for one of the Stormcloaks to make a move for them. Boldir turned to a soldier behind him.
"The Captain says to bring them to him."

"Believe me, Lieutenant, we've tried. They will not surrender. But they won't attack either. They want to speak with the Captain."

"Then I'll get him."

Boldir didn't have to look far to find Baldur, who hadn't moved far from where he'd left him.
"Baldur, the survivors refuse to surrender, but they won't attack either. They want to speak with you."

"This aught to be good. I'm coming."

Baldur walked his way to the group of men Boldir called the "wolf-pack", wondering what they had to say to him. He really wanted to get this over with so he could go back to the fort and rest, so he sounded irritated when he addressed them.

"What do you all want? Lower your weapons. The fight is over."

"This fight isn't over until we've fallen Stormcloak!"

Boldir and Baldur turned and looked at each other. Boldir spoke out:

"Then why are you just standing there? Go ahead, make a move!"

"We aren't fools Stormcloak! We see the archers you've got. One of us moves and we're all dead!"

"You're all dead anyway!"

"You Stormcloaks, you pride yourselves as honorable! Why don't you prove it? If we are to die, let it be at the hands of your best warriors, not some lowly archers! Send someone to face us each, one-on-one."

Boldir didn't even think to get the consent of the Captain. It wouldn't do for the grunts to see their leaders back down from a challenge, and he'd been among the Necro Nords long enough to trust that they could take these guys.
"We accept!"

"Sorry lieutenant, but I don't have time for this, and I can't afford to take more casualties to satisfy their desire to die gloriously, so lets make this quick. You and I will handle this. I'll take six of you one on one, Boldir will take the other. I'll let you choose who you want to fight. Raise your weapon if you wish to fight Boldir."

After seeing the extent that the Captain was willing to go to not only kill his victims, but to brutalize them, all but two of the Imperials raised there hands to fight Boldir. The speaker was among the ten that did.

Baldur gave his lieutenant a smirk after the men's response, amused that he caused such fear, even though he wasn't proud of what he did, although he wasn't sorry for it either.

"Well, I guess it can't be helped. Sorry, but only half of you go with Boldir. You, you, you, you, you, and you can have Boldir. The rest including the one that spoke will have me. Don't worry, I've snapped out of my battle sickness. I won't brutalize you more than is necessary to send you to Sovngarde. Or wherever the non-nords among you will go. Now, come and die with honor."

Boldir sneered under his helmet.
I'll make you wish you'd chosen Baldur.

He stepped away from the crowd and walked forward alongside the Captain. He looked over to Baldur and nodded.
Let's get this over with.

***

The duels set Baldur back longer than he intended. The men were after all highly skilled soldiers. Baldur had a nasty new vertical scar over his left eye to remind him of that. It came from the soldier who spoke out to them who was wielding a warhammer. He wounded Baldur after he blocked a blow with his axes and locked weapons. He scraped the Captain's cheek with the spike on one side of the head of the hammer.

It was approaching the late afternoon when they finally arrived near Falkreath due to the extra weight they had to carry from the camp, and carrying the dead soldiers with them. A soldier approached them just before they got into the town.

"Boldir, we have a situation."

Baldur stood from his position as the soldier gave Boldir a report.

"Men hold here, while I speak to the Lieutenant."

"Boldir, what was that about?"

Boldir's eyes widened as he took in what the soldier said.

"Boldir, what was that all about?"

He turned to the Captain. "Baldur... Somehow the Legate broke free. He killed a lot of men while fleeing the city."

"How'd he manage that? He didn't break through the chains did he?"

"He didn't say, but I seriously doubt it. A troll couldn't break those chains."

"I wouldn't doubt it if one of those men let themselves get taunted then. I doubt he had anyone on the inside. Let's go see how many they buried."

"I'm right behind you.

Several minutes later, Baldur had all the men at attention, ready to receive new orders. Boldir, the Jarl, and a soldier Lorgar had spared stood with them.

"Men! Those of you who were stationed in Falkreath, return to your post. You answer to the Jarl now. Boldir and I are going back to the fort. The rest of you be ready to go back to the fort in a few hours. Feel free to hit the tavern. If you don't have the coin, take it from the chest we took from the Imperials."

Boldir gestured for the surviving soldier to say his piece.

Baldur and Boldir listened in silence along with the Jarl as the surviving soldier told of the rampage the Legate went on.

"We couldn't stop him sir. H-he was too strong, and we weren't skilled enough. He said "Tell your captain, that I know him know, and I will find him...tell him no matter were he goes, I will kill him...". Those were his exact words. Then..."

The soldier put his hand on the arm that the Legate had stabbed, and Baldur gestured him to leave. Baldur let a smirk escape on his face and chuckled.

"What could possibly be so damn funny? Do you realize that I could have been assassinated due to your men's incompetence? "

"It's nothing. I'm just happy to have one so worthy as a rival. Next time, I'll make sure the Necro Nords are guarding him. We made it too easy on him. So all together between our battle and the little mishap, we lost under fifty men. Not that bad. Only one Necro Nord, although we did lose an officer, Reval. May his ancestors protect him in whatever afterlife they have. Our job is done here, Jarl, so I'll be returning the city to you with my men under your command. But I'll be informing them not to agree to any torture crap unless it's Thalmor. Good day to you."

***

Boldir stood silently in the Falkreath graveyard along with Baldur and all the Necro Nords as a priest of Arkay prayed for the easy passing of the fallen. At the front laid Fulik and Reval, who Boldir had ordered would receive a funeral befitting a Necro Nord. The other soldiers had already been buried. But Necro Nords get a more personal funeral. Two Dunmer and a Stormcloak woman were there as well, presumably for Reval.

It was silent as Fulik was lowered into his grave. The man deserved better. He was a good warrior, only to have his throat slit from behind. Does one who dies in such a way still reach Sovengarde?

Next came Reval, who was not to be buried, but cremated. As was his people's custom. The Priest of Arkay lowered a torch over his body, which already had been prepared to be burned and immediately engulfed in flames.

I know what you mean. Now that I'm fighting in this war, I want to defend not just my people, but everyone who lives in Skyrim. I can only hope that I get to live up to their expectations. My family and everyone in Skyrim is counting on us to ensure that the Empire is driven from this land, and we can all live free.

Those had been the elf's words. Boldir felt a tug at his heart, similar to how he'd felt when he'd buried his best friend Beirlan many years ago. He may have just met Reval, but he knew the elf to be a good man. A Son of Skyrim.

And should anything happen to me in this battle, tell my son that I am proud of him and that he should carry the mantle of the Stormcloak name with honor.

Boldir held onto these words. He could still hear them like an echo. The first thing he'd do when he gets leave is find Reval's son, Vordyn, and deliver his father's last words for him. He would carry the ashes himself.

They all stared on as the flames lapped at their fallen brother.

Fairwell Reval, you were as true a Stormcloak as any Nord.

[The Good Doctor]

Lorgar, The Great Wolf
Camp Romulus
Night

A scarred battlefield with carrion, being picked away by ravens is all that awaited Lorgar. Smoking tents, filled with soldiers that died whilst they slept, throats cut, dreaming about there children and wives. Some of the soldier’s corpses where covered in horrifying burn marks, with there bodies sprawled across the ground, signifying they died in horrible pain. Other where covered in arrows, while some had sword and axe slashes. That wasn’t the worse, some of the soldiers he saw were stripped naked, with gouge marks covering there eyes, some even had there naughty bits smashed to pieces and the area around them stained with blood, … mutilations were everywhere on the bodies of his soldiers, obviously inflicted after they passed. But the worse thing was, mutilations or not, none of the bodies were buried, not even a mass pit, the stormcloaks just left them there to rot and be eaten by the crows,

Those bastards didn’t even bother to bury them…they…

Lorgar dropped to his knees, the sheer devastation caused tears to swell in his eyes, yet he still held them in. He desperately looked around his surroundings for anyone alive, until he noticed the arrow covered body of Tribune Angelos, still clutching his beloved ebony dagger, and the corpse of Tribune Brutus, whose throat was cut out by a stormcloak’s dagger. The legate couldn’t hold it in anymore; the tear’s came down like a waterfall, streaming down his anguished filled face. He got up from his position only to collapse at the body of his friend. He started to openly weep, and cry over his friend’s cold body.

This is my fault…my fault…there dead because of my stupidity...my fault…there dead because of me…

Lorgar began to scream uncontrollably, while slamming his fist in the ground again and again, still the tears fall down across his face.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK…”

Lorgar cried and wept for what seemed like an eternity over his friend’s corpse, before noticing the Stormcloaks didn't even bother to close the dead tribunes eye's. Lorgar wiped away his tears and weakly smiled, and proceeded to close his comrade’s eyes, before softly addressing his dead friend,

"There will be another time old friend, another time..."

Lorgar somehow managed to stop the tears from flowing; he picked himself up, and stared at the sky above him. The beautiful stars twinkled in the night, shining bright light across the darkened void. The pale moonlight, now eliminating the ruined camp site, now shone down upon the large figure, illuminating his features, which beforehand was filled with sorrow, despair, and tears, now stood tall and a filled with a look of virtue.

He managed to completely forget his surroundings, and focused solely on the beautiful stars. He smiled, this time genuinely,

The Beauty of the moons and the stars come out only when the darkness of night surrounds me…I shall embrace the night and the darkness… 

Lorgar turned around to face the devastation, the flames, the shadows, and corpse of his men...his brothers. Lorgar cried one last tear, before saluting, to all of the fallen...all of his brothers. He knew that he couldn't bury them all, that would take days and Lorgar didn't have the time, but he could at least bury the officers, Tribune Brutus and Angelos. All of his soldiers deserved it, but it wasn't possible. It took several hours but he finished burying his fallen friends, he finished with both of there swords as grave markers.

As he starred at the two graves, Lorgar’s sorrow was soon joined hand in hand with a burning rage. Images of his soldier’s mutilations brought upon a rage that compelled him to kill them all; he wanted to kill all of the stormcloaks. He wanted to rip there throats out with his fangs and devour there crimson blood, he wanted to see them slowly suffer and hear them scream out in pain, he wanted to hear the screams from there weeping widows and children. He wanted anyone who supported Ulfric to suffer. He wanted them all to burn… He wanted Captain Baldur to feel the pain that he felt as he killed illusions of his men and pretended that he was going to rape a civilian, but this time, deep down in Lorgar’s darkest thoughts, Lorgar wanted to do it for real, he would cut the girl open and show all of her pretty cut up skin to Baldur, and dance around her guts and organs after defiling her corpse. He would slowly torture some of his men, and bath Baldur’s body in there crimson blood. He wanted to mutilate the stormcloaks as they did to his soldier’s. As these dark thought formed in Lorgar’s mind, the shadows around the camp started to dance around Lorgar, forming nameless eldritch shapes. As they closed in all around him, Lorgar closed his eyes, and simply muttered,

“No…”

Lorgar would not be consumed by his hatred, he would not devolve into the very thing he fought against, and he would not act like the people who butchered his soldiers.

Lorgar took one last look at the moon, and the stars, before turning around and heading into the direction of the forest. Even when the stormcloaks close in, and Lorgar lies broken, Lorgar knew he would be never be alone, as long as he fights in his soldier’s memory, his brothers would never abandon him. Lorgar stopped at the edge of the tree line, and at the edge of his humanity, before silently muttering,

"I swear to you my brothers I’ll fight the enemy until my body lay's lifeless in the mud...my fangs may be broken, but I will continue to fight on regardless. Even If I am weapon less, ally-less, covered in deep cuts and my skin torched, I won’t stop, until you cease your wails of despair…I’m no longer the “Great wolf” of the wolf-pack, for the wolf pack no longer hunts in the moonlight… I am now The Darkened Archer ... The wolf is now alone, and will fight in the lonesome paths of the forest under the pale moon... I leave my humanity behind and embrace the wolf. Baldur, Ulfric, all of them… They will pay…even if it takes a dozen years, they will pay… I am now the shadow that stalks the night and the howl that soldiers hear in their nightmares…THAT IS MY VENGEANCE…”

Lorgar ripped off the bandages covering the right half of his face revealing his scarred face, unfastened his officer cloak, stepped into the shadow of the forest with the ambient moonlight on his back and crossed the edge...before uttering in a voice devoid of warmth or kindness,

"Nevermore...” 

[The Good Doctor]

Baldur, Witchie

Baldur approached the Witch King while he was tending to the men before they set off to the fort.

"From a great king of the north to a medic for the wounded. But I guess it could be worse."

He watched as he skillfully and flawlessly applied his healing magic to some of the men with more serious wounds.

"Witchie, you and I need to talk. I heard about your little recon deal before our battle. One of the men mentioned it. And I saw all the dead Thalmor bodies. I can put two and two together. Why did you once again disobey my orders? You should have been with your commanding officer, Reval!"

"I wanted to try something out. And getting rid of the Thalmor probably spared a lot of lives today. Especially that there was a Grand Overseer, with power to rival my own, among them."

A croak was heard as a raven flew down and landed on Witchie's left shoulder. Then the raven started to stare at Baldur.

"Don't mind Karsh. He's just curious. I captured him with some magic as he fed on the corpses in the camp."

"You could have been there to protect Reval. He was an officer, your commanding officer. And now he's dead. I'm not stupid. I know you have no sympathy for the man because he's an elf. But anyone, whether that be Nord, elf or even khajiit who wears that blue attire is your brother."

Baldur said this half halfheartedly. He wanted to take his anger on him for leaving Reval's side, but he couldn't deny Witchie had saved a lot of men from dying.

"Just forget it. Despite your prejudice, you did save us a lot of trouble. It's not like you killed him. I can't get mad at you."

"This is war. People die. This is just the beginning. When the Empire is dealt with, we got the Dominion. If he hadn't died today he would certainly have died tomorrow. I know this fact and that is why I don't try to make friends with anyone." Witchie stretched his hand inside the the robe, took out the letter from the camp and handed it to Baldur.
"I found this inside the camp. You will not like its content."

"I don't need a lecture on war from you. Now what is-"

Baldur read over the letter and how the Empire was beginning to work even more with the Thalmor.

"This is not good. It's beginning to sound like 'The Rising Threat' over there. What's worse is it looks like the Thalmor may be visiting us along with the Empire now that they're starting to loosen up their border patrols. This is not good at all. Thank you Witchie, this is invaluable. I want you to take this information to Ulfric Stormcloak as soon as you can, and let him know of our success. And I'm sorry for getting on your case. BUT, you need to get over this hatred you have for elves if you expect to remain under my command. You're more than a good soldier, but we are not mercenaries. We are a band of brothers. One day you may find yourself in need of saving, and one of our elven brothers may be the only ones around that can do it. I hope you take my words to heart."

"Easy for you to say. Any warmth around my heart was lost when she died. You know of who I speak of. And I know more about war than anyone in this army. I've waged war in this land for more years than you have men under your command."

"If that's so, then how can it be you know so little about the importance of inspiring your men and morale? What if the rest of our men started thinking the way you did, running off whenever they wanted, doing what they wanted? That force would cease to be an army. Like it or not, we're getting more elves in our forces. If more of our men started acting the way you do, we can have trouble from within, and even worse, we could lose them as allies, and they could join our enemies! We need allies desperately. And these elves are proving their worth. Whatever grievances you had against them, these are not the same people."

Witchie rose up from the crouched position and the raven flew off. He walked up to Baldur and grasped his head. Before Baldur could react he was swept away into a black abyss. Then he saw a light and it got stronger and stronger. Then he saw it. He was standing high upon a cliff overlooking the planes of Whiterun to the south, but where the city should have been was just an empty mountain hill. And beneath the cliff was soldiers, numbering to what Baldur thought must have been at least four thousand. They were wearing a type armor he had not seen before, but it still had some of the traditional nordic style to it. But those in the front of the army was dressed more like Witchie but with shoulder pads and a helmet. Baldur also felt that he was wearing heavy armor, but it was different than anything he had ever worn. Then without him being able to control it he started to speak. But the voice was not his own, it was Witchie's.

"The elves call us filth, rodents and slaves. They seek to take our land, our families and our lives. But they are wrong and they will fail. We will show them who this land belongs to and they will know our wrath before the end. Today we shall break their last standing force and send their shattered remains back to oblivion!"

The soldiers let out a deafening cheer. Baldur felt himself slipping away again, before he knew it he found himself in the dark abyss and then back with Witchie standing in front off him.

"Don't question my knowledge."

Baldur took a while to regain his composure. What Witchie just showed him was amazing, incomprehensible even, that someone could live for that long. Baldur didn't want to think of what dark arts he must practice to accomplish such a feat. After he recovered, he and looked back to Witchie and continued the discussion.

"So, you really are that old! When I overheard you talking to Do'jhul, I thought you were just pulling his leg, but now...That doesn't change anything, however. Those are not the same elves. This is a new time. A new age. The only enemy we have are the Thalmor, not the Altmer, not the Dunmer. You forget that they too hate the Thalmor."

"The Thalmor were not the first and as long as elves live they will not be the last. History repeats itself. And the only thing I will give you is restraint."

"Tell me, how many times in history has man and mer cooperated without force or through political schemes? How often did the Nord and Dunmer people work together? History only repeats itself if we're foolish enough to not even try to stop the cycle."

"If things haven't changed since then, what are the odds that it will change in the future? The cycle will continue till one side is dead."

"Or until men have the courage to break it. I suspect that we have nothing left to say. So carry out my orders and report to Ulfric immediately."

Baldur handed back the letter and left the Witchie's presence and went back to the freshly dug graves of his men, pondering the implications of the letter the Witchie just revealed to him.

Witchie went back finished up healing those with the most severe wounds before leaving for the tavern. He needed some sleep. But he never got good nights sleep.

The nightmare went through events of the burning village and the great castle hall as before. But this time the nightmare didn't want stop there. When the room shifted from the castle hall with the dead hagravens he found himself in large dark room. He was facing a wall with a great stone circle decorated with runes and inside the circle was dark purple light, twisting upon itself. From the portal emitted a dark voice.

"We will not give her to you. No soul will ever leave the Soul Cairn."

Then he could feel everything come back to him. The anger, the pain, the sorrow. The room started to tremble and the trembling got stronger and stronger till it was almost an earthquake. The stone circle started to crack and the portal disappeared. Now without the light, the room was drenched in darkness. The quakes ceased. The stone was cold as he fell down on his knees and he felt a single tear roll down his sheek, touching his scar.

Witchie opened his eyes and saw the tavern roof above him. He left the room, got some breakfast before taking a horse and setting his course for Solitude. 

[The Good Doctor]

Rebec, Baldur, Boldir
Fort Neugrad
After the Battle

On the trudge back to the fort, Rebec was so weary and weak from her injuries that she spoke to no one unless necessary. She did walk on her own feet, though, which is more than could be said for others. The sight of the Dunmer officer was particularly grim. His body was so battered and bloodied that it was no longer recognizable. It was useless to regret that she'd been less than friendly to him, but she did.

As they neared Fort Neugrad, Rebec suddenly remembers her wagon, the messages... It all seemed like a lifetime ago. She would have to deal with it somehow. The wagon is parked in the fort's courtyard, empty, with the Dunmer driver nowhere in sight. Most ominously, the false bottom appears to have been broken open. Instinct tells Rebec to get out before anyone could ask her pointed questions, but her physical state makes this impossible.

Inside the fort, a female Stormcloak helps Rebec bathe and dress her wounds, and brings her a hot meal and some healing potion. The sailor is given a bed in the main barracks since the infirmary is full. She sleeps through the day and into the next while the others bury or burn the dead. Gradually, however, the mood in the fort lightens. Even with their losses, they had won a great victory. No one comes asking her awkward questions, so while resting, Rebec asks them of herself. Her brush with the Thalmor made her understand what the cost of transporting a few messages could be. Things were going to have to change. She could run away, but she didn't want to.

As evening draws on Rebec comes down to the mess area with paper and ink pot in hand. The evening meal was over and the room has been given over to mead-drinking and celebration, mostly centered around the large hearth. She asks the mead-swillers where their captain is, but gets only shrugs and vague gestures in reply, so she sits down at an empty table away from the noise and begins scratching out a list on the paper. Occasionally Rebec glances over at the Stormcloaks' carousing. She's not one to brood, but can't help missing her crew.

Baldur couldn't help his disposition. He wanted to be happy for his men, but with his soldier Reval dead, he couldn't pretend to be up in spirits. After the battle was won, and the men got back to the fort, Baldur went straight to his quarters and stayed there til the next day.

You were more Nord than a lot of the men who were here. I will honor your death by helping the relations of the Nord and Dunmer people.

He thought back to how he fought bravely against the now escaped Do'jhul with great skill and bravery. Boldir mentioned to him that he thought he'd make an excellent "Necro Nord". Baldur agreed.

I almost lost him to the damn cat that day. Wonder where that Do'jhul is now. Reval managed to fight him for a while, which is saying a lot considering how formidable that cat was. Hmph, both he and Lorgar managed to escape. I think I'll have a word with the men on matters of prisoner security. Two escapes of high ranking officers is completely unacceptable. And as for Reval, he has proven that his people are very capable warriors. I think I'll speak to Ulfric about allowing them into the Necro Nords as well. We may need to change our names at this rate if we start letting the elves in. I'll talk to Boldir about that later.

Baldur felt very weary. Mentally so. Too mentally weary to bother with wearing his Heavy armor, so he donned his Captain Officer armor again. Now that the fighting was over for now, he figured he could relax a bit. Baldur wanted to see how Boldir was doing, but decided he'd talk to him later. He'd likely be with the rest of the men celebrating anyway. Baldur walked out of his quarters and went to sit and eat with the rest of the men.

He noticed that the female stormcloak that they just picked up was amongst them. The sight of her managed to get his mind off of Reval for a while. She was in a fresh new stormcloak outfit which didn't reveal much, but despite that, Baldur could still see that she was a fairly good looking soldier. Baldur moved in and sat across from the soldier, not displaying his interest, as he thought that would be unprofessional.

"You look well rested, miss?"

Glancing up, Rebec straightens and puts aside her quill. "Like a new woman. Actually I've been in bed for a week, but can't sleep so well when I've got Thalmor trying to roast me like a Sundas goose. You're the captain, aren't you?" She looks Baldur up and down, pursing her lips thoughtfully, then gestures at the chair across from her. "Sit. Oh, I suppose you want me to hail you or sir you or something. I'm more used to commanding men myself, see. Rebec Red-Eye. Captain of the Howling Harpy, best keel in the Sea of Ghosts."

"Captain you say? Looks like we share a rank of sorts. No you don't need to solute me at the moment. But now that you mentioned the Thalmor, I would like to ask you some questions. I saw you with a wagon the day that the Khajiit was fighting R-, the day the khajiit attacked the fort. We pulled the wagon in, and found the hidden compartment that had a book inside. Our fort wizard discovered the wards on it, and determined that they were Thalmor. Can you fill in the gaps for me?"

"Wards?" Rebec asks, looking as innocent as possible. She's had a lot of practice. "You mean magic? It certainly wasn't me casting any spells, I can tell you. Where's my driver, the greasy little Dunmer who was with the wagon?"

"Dead. Our recent lieutenant killed him in cold blood because he thought he was a Thalmor agent. He was demoted because of it. Now, I need you to be straight with me. You're not in any danger. You clearly are no friend of them or the Imperials from what I saw at the battle, so what's the deal?"

Dead. That makes it easier. "Dead?" Rebec says, appearing shocked. She looks down at the table, her mind turning over. She wants to end this game, at least the part of it that involves the Thalmor, but there is a time and place. Erikur is too dangerous, and how much to trust this Stormcloak captain?

Finally she raises her eyes again. "I'm going to be straight with you, Baldur Red-Snow. That's your name, isn't it? I believe he may have been what your man says. It's why the Thalmor were torturing me, because they thought I know more than I do. If my coming here put your men in any danger, that's still my responsibility, and it's something I'm going to put right somehow. I'll be heading back to Solitude as soon as I can, and then..." She doesn't know what then. A headsman's axe, probably. Losing my ship, which would be worse. "I ask you to leave it to me for now. Can you do that?"

"Sorry, I can't. This is sensitive information. If you're scared of getting in trouble...."

Baldur leaned forward to her so that he could be heard in a hushed tone.

"First of all, any trouble in the form of the Thalmor that you bring to my fort is a gift. More dead bastards suits me just fine. Secondly, I'm the Captain of this fort. I alone control what information goes to the High King from here. So let me make this clear. This whole thing is shady. And I can tell you're hiding something. You're good at that little act of yours, but I can see through it. Now listen carefully. I...don't....care...what....you're...up...to. All I care about is info on the enemy. If anything you can tell me will help with that, I would most appreciate it. Whatever it is that you had going on is irrelevant to me. I just allowed a man that killed a civilian in cold blood to stay in our forces, albeit demoted. He may have had ties to Thalmor, but he's still a civilian. That should tell you what kind of state of mind I am in. As long as whatever it is that you do that you don't want to be let in the light stays in the past, you are welcome to stay among our ranks without fear. So what say you?"

Rebec shakes her head. Just like the military to screw everything up because of their rules and procedures, exactly the reason she keeps them at arm's length. "You don't understand. These people, I know them. I can..." She stops, as she can tell the captain isn't buying it. Must be losing my touch.

"Fine," she says, deflated. There was something big going on here- Erikur had even said as much. It would not be because of her that they all lose this war. Maybe this Stormcloak from the kingdom's graveyard could even help her with Ulfric. Leaning in and turning her head aside so that she speaks practically in his ear, Rebec says low, "Whatever that book was, the Thalmor Grand what's-his-name was expecting it. It came from a man who stands at Ulfric's side day and night: Thane Erikur."

She then flops back in her chair. "I'm probably going to prison or to the block for this. But you wanted your answers, damn you, so there it is. I told you what I wouldn't tell the Thalmor even when they tortured me. Just consider this. There's a blockade coming and Ulfric has no navy to speak of. I'm one of the few people in Skyrim who can outrun anything those mama's boys in the Imperial Navy throw at us. Ulfric needs me, whether he knows it or not."

Baldur let a smile escape him when the woman got so close to him. He soon lost it when she told him the truth. "You're cute when you're frustrated."

Whoops, let that slip too. I think I'll play a little joke on our new member....

"Men! Escort miss Red-Eye to the prison and prep her for transport to Solitude."

Everyone froze, wondering what the Captain was doing. Two men nearby slowly approached reluctantly to take the woman to the prison.. Baldur drew a soldier's sword nearby and pointed it at the woman still sitting down.

"I said take her away!"

"Oh for the love of Kyne." Rebec rolls her eyes and stands, arms out. "Go ahead, you sacks of piss, you heard the man! Why shouldn't I visit every skeeverhole of a prison in Falkreath hold? I like smelling like the tail end of a Khajiit." Shaking her head at Baldur, she says with an air of resignation,"You were just starting to seem like a reasonable man."

Baldur let out a big loud hearty laugh.

"Hahahahaha! I'm surprised at you men. You should have known what I was up to from the last time I pulled that with Reval and the deceased recruit. Ah, you all are too easy...Please, sit down Rebec. I'm only pulling your leg."

The men all cheered and laughed at the display, most of them glad that Baldur's mood from Reval's death hadn't effected him too much. Baldur thought it important he show that to them, even if it was a lie.

"Sorry about that. Consider it an initiation of mine."

Rebec looks from Stormcloaks to captain and back incredulously. She had just divulged matters of important kingdom security, things that could cost her her livelihood or her life, and Baldur had made a joke of it all.

A man after her own heart.

"Bastard." She grins and retakes her seat, though still a bit shaky. "You owe me some mead for that. And not the cheap stuff, either. What sort of Stormcloak are you, anyway? Those weapons and armor I saw earlier, they're finer than the usual crap Ulfric hands out."

Baldur forgot all about remaining professional at this point, choosing to just relax instead.

"You like it, huh? It's Nordic Carved armor from Solstheim. We've incorporated it into our ranks for our new elite group the "Necro Nords". I just became one after almost being killed by the enemy Legate's arrow. We made a new tradition where when a Necro Nord dies, the armor is taken and repaired and given to one we consider worthy. That is what happened after one of my men died in front of me. We do this mainly out of necessity due to the expense of the armor. It will soon be a tradition in the future. They're named for their unrelenting assault, like draugr as Ulfric put it. Ignoring pain. And because they were based out of Falkreath to guard the border. You mentioned that you were a ship Captain. Where's your crew?"

"I left them in Solitude when Erikur twisted my arm to do his dirty little favor. They're either wh*ring around town racking up bounties, or they're refitting the ship's ramming gear. Hopefully the latter." Rebec tilts her head. "So that thing out front of the fort when I drove up, that was a Khajiit? Damn big one. After I saw that duel, something hit me and I don't recall much else after that til I woke up in the imps' camp. That legate... he went missing from their camp before the battle, you know. I'd make sure your sentries aren't drunk tonight."

"Yea, you're right. He came strolling into Falkreath hold by himself and got caught. That's how I got the location of the camp in the first place. But after the battle, we learned that he escaped and killed a bunch of men on his way out. Sorry I couldn't rescue you. I used some non physical coercion to get the info out of him, and we came here immediately. He was a tough son of a [censored] though, so I'm not that surprised he escaped. Took almost a score of arrows to subdue him apparently. That was the handiwork of my second in command, Boldir. He should be here pretty soon. You were in their camp. What was the man like? He sure hated mistreatment of civilians and soldiers, but he allowed the Thalmor to torture you? Why?"

"You're joking. Walked into Falkreath, alone?" She pauses to absorb this. "I'd say he doesn't know his own mind. One minute he's bellowing at the wizard that they can't have me, the next minute he's bowing his head to them like a whipped puppy and off I go. It would have been worse without him, for certain." The sailor laughs suddenly. "You're saying you had him here while I was still trussed up in his tent? Captain fancypants, the gods are toying with us." Mead is being passed around and Rebec takes a bottle, her mood lightening.

"He was being held in the Falkreath prison, til he escaped but yea. It's not all so bad. It all worked out in the end. The Imperial force was eliminated within a few days, You're here, and now I get a chance to stick it to that son of a skeever's ass, Erickur. All I asked was who he was when I went to Solitude for the first time, and he tried to make me look like a jack ass."

Baldur put on a snooty sounding voice and mimicked Erikur in a mocking matter.

"I'm a thane. In the future, you should probably find that info out before talking to me. Saves you from looking like an idiot...and all that."

"I have a lot of anger in myself, and hate as well, mainly for Thalmor. But there's not too many men that I'd rather kill over him! I can't wait to watch him squirm."

Baldur slammed his fist into the table as he said this.

"I'm a thane."

"Not anymore you're not! Then I'll put my boot to his ass. Good fun for everyone involved. And by everyone, I mean me. He'll likely get executed for this. Can't wait.... And don't worry, you won't get in trouble for helping. But I am interested in why you helped him at all."

"It seems like a small thing now, but he could have seen to it that I lost my ship. If that happens, I'm finished. I'll end up a sad drunk in a tavern somewhere, and I'd rather the Sea of Ghosts take me a thousand times than that. I didn't know it was Thalmor business, you understand. I suspected, but didn't know for sure until that yellow bastard in the camp mentioned Erikur."

She pauses, looking at Baldur with concern. "You should stay out of this. Erikur is powerful and he's smart. He could take us both down and walk away. Still, you seem to have Ulfric's ear, so maybe he'll listen to you. Those imperials out there, the Thalmor... I'm starting to think the blockade is a sideshow and the real blow might fall on you and your men."

Baldur looked quite confident when he said, "You don't seem to understand how much pull I have with Ulfric Stormcloak. Not only did this unit manage to eliminate one of the most elite units in the Legion in a matter of a few days, but I saved the man's life from Alduin the World Eater back in Helgen, not to boast. I pushed him out of the way of the beast's fire, and covered myself in Imperial bodies. It's why some know me as "The Unkindled". I have more than his ear. I have his respect, and he owes me his life. If I tell him we need you and that you are innocent, he'll listen. I assure you. You have nothing at all to worry about. You'll be protected. With my recommendation, you may even be promoted if your skills are indeed as impressive as you say they are. Skyrim is in need of a real naval force. We'll need not only your expertise, but someone to command the force."

"Well aren't you grandma's silver with jewels on. Alright, big hero, we'll play it your way. This is going to turn over some cabbage carts, I can tell you. Erikur's contacts are all over Tamriel and he's got his hands in lots of pockets. Speaking of gold..."

Rebec picks up the paper she was writing on earlier and tosses it in front of the captain. It's a list of goods with prices next to them, an invoice for the items in her wagon. "Is your quartermaster going to pay me for my supply run? You'll see that my prices are fair, and I've marked what the crown put up already. For the rest I rely on barter. I don't mean to seem miserly, you helping me out and all, but when I get back to Solitude, my crew's going to have their hands out whether you pay me or not."

"Of course he'll pay. If fact, go ahead and take what is owed from the coin we picked up from that raid on the Imperial camp. I don't blame you for your suspicions considering the state of our economy with the Empire cutting us off, but they forgot Skyrim is rich with minerals and precious metal ore. Ore that we can now keep instead of giving so much of it to Cyrodiil for their rebuilding purposes. Trade is going to be a problem though, unless we can make nice with Hammerfell. They're still rebuilding as well due to the war they had with the Thalmor on their own after the Great War. Hopefully Ulfric can pull off an alliance with them. But that's not my problem right now."

Rebec appears relieved at this reply. Fort commanders are notorious pennypinchers, considering it her patriotic duty to go out of business and starve. "I know a lot of redguard from the sea trade. My brother Vilnur is based out of Sentinel. I might be able to convince him to come home for a while, what with all the fun he's going to miss."

Downing the last of her mead, she grabs another and eyes Baldur as she opens it. Somehow he made her want to trust him. That was a feat for an honor-and-glory officer type, the kind that usually mixes with her like oil and water. And not hard on the eyes, she thinks with a little smile. "What's your story, Red-Snow? Aside from the fact that you rescue would-be kings from dragons and fight imperials. Where is home?"

Baldur was a bit caught off guard by this. No one ever asked about his personal life. He started scratching behind his head and looking to the wall behind Rebec when he answered.

"Wow, uh... Well, this is my home. I don't have a wife. I killed my father in battle, my mother's a Dibella priestess, and when I'm not being a soldier, I'm hanging out in taverns getting drunk and all that. Stereotypical nord, really. I got on my friend Boldir about not telling me anything about his life, and I just realized I do the same. We are rather similar now that I think about it...There's nothing really to me beyond this life. If I live long enough to retire, I plan on getting some land and maybe starting my own town with Boldir after we both get wives and have kids. What about you? Anyone at home when you're not at sea?"

"Hmph. Had one. I'm married, if you can call it that. The lout's been missing for two years. Means he's either dead or taken up with someone else and can't face me about it, which amounts to the same thing. The last time I went to our cabin in Dawnstar, it was still deserted with the dust thick on the bed. I shut it up and haven't been back since. The sea was my only real home, ever."

She pauses, thinking over his reply, and whistles a little. "Killed your father, you said? My old pa always said I was going to put him in the grave, but I don't think you could say I actually did."

"I'm not proud of it, but he chose his side and I chose mine. Nothing else to say about it really."

Baldur gave her a smile to lighten up the mood. He didn't like talking about his past, but he found it more bearable with a pretty woman in front of him. Still, the moment was a vulnerable one, and he was glad when he finally noticed Boldir coming in.

"Hey, I see Boldir. I want to continue this discussion in the near future. We can pick up on your brother's contact with the Redguards. That can prove a valuable relationship in the near future. Hey Boldir, come over here you scullery maid!" 

"The famous Boldir!" Rebec looks from one to the other, then back again. Boldir and Baldur. The sailor chuckles drily. "You're twins, right?"

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny. We are pretty similar. Best damn soldiers in the Stormcloak army for one. But he couldn't hold a candle to me in a mead drinking contest. Isn't that right, Boldir?" Baldur winks to him showing his challenge.

Boldir grinned. This may be just what I need. "Ha! You wish! After yesterday I'd wager that I could take on Sanguine himself!" 

"Good! Last to pass out wins. Men! Bring us some mead!", said Baldur.

Rebec tilts her head and gives the men a wry look. "I hope your troops know where to dump you both tonight. I'm sure not picking your sorry asses off the floor when this is done." She's already had a head start on the mead, but that was just for flavor.

"Oh, you're joining us? You sure you can handle it?"

"Pass the mead, snowback," Rebec answers, all business. She turns her chair around and straddles it.

"Hmmm...Boldir? What do you think? Should we let miss Rebec join us?

Boldir chuckled, "Heh, the way I hear it, these seafolk can hold their drink with the best. Lady or not, I wanna see if it's true!" 

"That's what I was worried about. Looks like we'll have a challenge."

"Are you two milkmaids watching or drinking?" The sailor tosses her empty bottle towards a trash heap and starts in on another. She gestures at Boldir and waves him toward a chair opposite her. "You. Bolfur. Sit down here. Your commander and I have already traded dirty secrets, so now it's your turn. Tell us something you're afraid your mother will find out." 

Boldir ignored Rebec's question as he immediately downed his first bottle, not willing to be called out for not drinking. He finished his second before clumsily pulling over the chair and answering Rebec. "For your information miss, I have NO secrets!  Why would I? I am BOLDIR IRON-BROW! Secrets are for secret people."
Boldir grabbed another mead and began to drink again. "Actually..." Boldir cautiously looked around the room, then back at his friends. He leaned in close and whispered "I do have one, but can you keep a secret?"

"Aye", said Baldur after he downed another mead one of his men passed him. Ha, he's already starting to feel the effects of the mead from the sound of it. Should be easy.

"I'm the soul of discretion, my good man," Rebec says with no trace of irony. She flips out her small dagger and stabs a slice of Eidar cheese that's in reach, taking a few bites between drinks of mead. Other than some color on her cheeks- which had been paler than usual from her ordeal at the camp and her battle injuries- she doesn't appear to even be tipsy.

Boldir looked at them both, wearing as serious an expression as he'd ever had in his life. The best time to tell a good story was when he was drunk, which, admittedly, wasn't a hard state for him to reach. "Baldur, you remember when I told you I was raised in Shor's Stone right? Shor's Stone is near a mountain. Northwind Mountain. When I was a lad of thirteen, I decided to climb to the summit. Uncle always said not to do that. But I never told him I did it. It wasn't an easy climb, but when I reached the top, I found some people, a man and a she-elf."

Boldir downed another mead. "They were standing over a body. I went for a closer look. They were chanting... something. Then I saw who's body it was. It was a girl, about my age. I can still remember her face, all pale and lifeless... And then she stood up. Scared the mess outa me. Anyway, I must've screamed er somethin', cause they all turned to me. The elf woman laughed and pointed at me. That's when the little dead lass got up. She looked at me and I ran. Ran right back to the edge of the summit and climbed down as quickly as I could, the Necromancers still laughing up above. Didn't leave my home for two days. Never told anyone what happened, but I've been terrified of the undead ever since." Boldir threw back his head and laughed. "Boldir Iron-Brow, Stormcloak veteran and terrified of a little girl and some bone walkers!" Boldir took another drink. He was finishing up his fourth bottle now. "You better not tell a soul!"

"Hahahahaha! A Necro Nord afraid of the undead? That's priceless!" Baldur's outburst was a sign that the alcohol was beginning to get to him, as he's usually careful about offending his friend. He had downed about seven big mugs full already, and was in the middle of his eighth.

Boldir knew all to well the irony of his fear. It had crossed his mind no small number of times since he became a Necro. "Yeah, laugh it up, but you better have something good to tell me yourself!"

Baldur's mistake was that he forgot the whole purpose of the game. It wasn't to drink more mead than the others, which he seemed to have forgotten, but to outlast the others, mug for mug. He finished his eighth mug before continuing on with a story he swore he'd never tell anyone ever in his life, no matter what the reason.

"Okay, well, you know how I told you I wanted to get a good woman and start a family? Well...technically, I'm already married..."

Rebec listens to the tale about the undead, smirking as Boldir points out the irony of it. By the time it's finished, she has neatly lined up two empty mead bottles next to her spot and is on to the next. The men are clearly on their way to a coma, she thinks with a smirk. Child's play.

"Well now," she perks up as the confessions get juicier. "You've got a woman stashed away that your mate here doesn't know about? What, is she a hagraven or something? You owe her money, don't you. I know how that goes." 

Baldur's face got a little paler when Rebec said "hagraven".

"Funny you should say that..."

The ship captain lifts a brow. "Alright, let's hear it. I knew you upstanding soldiery types had some skeletons stashed in your trunks. Ah, no offense, Bilgar," she adds quickly to Boldir, referring to his necromancy story.

"Okay, well the story happens not too differently from how this one does, see? I spend a lot of time in taverns, and on this particular day I was in Whiterun's...I was chit chatting this spicy young Redguard girl, when I get a hail from some other woman. She was wearing a tight green dress with golden rings around her arms and wrists, and she had the curves of masser and secunda, and legs that looked like they could squeeze off a giants head!

Firm, and shapely...uh, anyway. The woman was a Black haired Nord woman, and she came over to me and sat in my lap. She leaned over into my ears and said "I want to party all night long. Come and make my dreams come true." I having a weakness for tavern wenches couldn't possibly refuse. Then this idiot Nord came along and I could smell alcohol on him strong. He told me that was his woman, and that no one's gonna be partying with her but him. I stood up, and put the lady aside, and picked up the table next to me, and threw it at him. He dodges to the side, and the table breaks on the floor. He picked up a chair with some breton man still sitting in it, and broke it over my back, which layed me out on the floor flat. Then we started rolling on the floor, bashing each others face in...You know, nord stuff. Just when someone was about to call the guards, the Nord woman says that she has a solution. Whoever wins in a drinking contest will be her lover.

We both accept the challenge, and after about 6 mugs, he passes out. In my joy from my victory, I take a "victory lap" so to speak and down one more mug. Then, black out. Now I know what you're thinking. I'm on my eighth mug now, and I haven't passed out... That stuff she gave us was very very strong.

Here's where it gets weird... I woke up with a splitting headache, and I hear the words "You may kiss the bride", and hearing this wheezing noise. First thing I see is the Nord woman in my face kissing me on the lips. But she wasn't the same. She was not the woman I was about to have at. Her hair was faded, tattered and not as long, and her skin was like wrinkled paper, her bosom looked like a giant yanked down and stretched their of their earlobes down really far, then tailed it to her chest, and the smell! Oh, she smelled worse than a troll eating his own filth!

I was in a cabin with deer and elk heads on pikes, and weird totems and figures made from what appeared to be a collection of animal furs and organs. Behind a podium was some strange man in black robes and black hair, and he says to me "Oh, so you finally sobered up! You two really know how to party..." He then points over to the other Nord who I was fighting with, and he's chained up on a bed in fancy clothes. Horrified, and gagging from being overwhelmed by the stench of the place, I bolt to the door, but it is of course locked. I then pick up one of the totem things nearby, and push off the elk head so that I could use it as a weapon. The elk head dropped to the ground, and broke open, exposing all the maggots inside that made their home in the animal's cranium.

That finally caused my insides to meet the floor. Out of anger and disgust, I shove the pole towards the creature, and she tries to block my strike with her huge grotesque thick fingers with claws like black twisted daggers. My strike pierces her hand, if you could call it that, and she gives out a shriek that would make a dragon flee. Her right hand began to glow with destruction magic, and she casts a fireball to my face. Just in time, I drop to the floor, which was directly in the pile I just yacked out next to the maggots and the rotted elk head. The fireball destroys the locked door, and I quickly dash for freedom. I could hear the thing cry "No! My love is escaping! We must consummate!" Then the man behind her says "No worry my sweet. We'll find you another worthy partner. Til then, we can still have some fun with this one..." I ran as fast as I could, and never looked back. I quickly realized that I had somehow gotten all the way from Whiterun to Eastmarch hold. Who knows what in the hell happened to me while I was drunk? How many times that thing pressed her lips to mine, ugh!...What's even worse is thinking about the disgusting things that creature did to that poor Nord...Ever since, I never accept mead from strangers, and I NEVER flirt with a woman that comes on to me first. So there you have it. I Baldur Red-Snow, am a married man."

Boldir, who'd long lost count of how many bottles and mugs he'd drained, couldn't contain his laughter. "Hahahahaha! You married a Hagraven?!" He finished another bottle. "So I guesh she was only the "slightly" fairer half?" He said between laughs and drinks. "Did ya even get 'er name?"

Baldur thought for a minute, having trouble recollecting his thoughts due to all the mead.

"Yea. When she was whisperin in my ear she said her name was Moiri or Moira. Somethin like that."

Boldir put down his mug. He was now about as drunk as he'd ever been without passing out. "Moira? Hehehe Moiiiira... Funny. That wash me ma's name."

He paused for a second, a nervous expression appeared on his face. Did he say somethin 'bout black hair? "Hehehe... crazy huh? Hehehe"

"That was yer mom's name? Strange. Couldn't be the same one of course...right?"

"Of course not! My ma looked young, but she'd be in her sixties by now!"

It took several moments in his drunked state for Boldir to realize that that a witch could very well still look young at that age. And he knew that his ma was a magic user. He looked at Rebec and could tell that she had put this together as well. His nervous smile faded, and his eyes narrowed at Baldur. "What did she talk like?"

"What did she talk like? Wh, I dunno. She sounded kinda strange admittedly. Like she was from the west. Like the Reach."

"YOU BASTA-" Boldir underestimated his own drunkenness and tried to rise too quickly. The chair collapsed to the side and sent him straight into the nearby wall, hitting his head and knocking him out instantly.

Some soldiers looked over when they heard the lieutenant fall, and they carried him off to the infirmary. Baldur just sat there, staring into his mead awkwardly. He didn't know what to think.

"It can't be..b-but t-that would mean..."

Boldir's my step son! No, no. Let's think through this. There could be many Moiras with that accent. There's no way that the two could be the same person...right?

Rebec had first suspected the Stormcloaks were pulling her leg about the one of them marrying a hagraven who ended up being the other one's mother, but as she watches soldiers carrying Boldir's limp form away and then sees Baldur's haggard expression, it dawns on her through the mead fog that it all was true. She bursts out laughing. "Seriously? She and you... you didn't... and it was his..." The laughing fit continues until tears are streaming down her face and mead is coming out her nose. Finally Rebec pulls herself together and sees that Baldur appears ready to cry into his cups for real. That won't do. She decides to take his mind off with a story of her own.

"Buck up, Captain Hag-Shagger. There's a good lesson here about not being led around by your horker tusk. Speaking of that, I'll tell you an absolutely true story and you're not to repeat it to a soul here in Skyrim or you'll stain my tender reputation. I mentioned that I'm known in Hammerfell. But if you went to Stros M'kai and asked about Rebec Red-Eye, they'd give you a blank stare and probably rob you blind for asking stupid questions. In southern lands I'm known as Tu'kathwa, which means Deathbringer. Naturally it was all a big misunderstanding. I didn't have my shipping license in Stros M'kai yet and to get it, I was forced to apply to the head of customs, a poncy git who gives forth that he's a prince of some sort. He demanded that I sleep with him before he'd give me the license. Now I might have greased his keel anyway, if he'd played the deal fair, but then it was out of the question. I made a scene in the customs office and stormed out. We had to leave the next day with a half-empty ship and hope we could get something in High Rock worth selling back home.

We set sail and not far out of the city who do we pass by but Prince Shortdick and friends out for an outing in a little pleasure boat. I decide I'm going to teach this fool a lesson about crossing a Nord. We fix the ram to the Harpy's prow and I have the boys give steam on the oars, heading straight toward his ship. The Harpy is a fast little wench, and I bet that ra'gada had never seen a Nord ship do what she can. I meant to give him a little scare, then do a hard turn and be on my way. One of my crew thought it would add to the joke to run a pair of my knickers up the flag line. Red, as it happens. Don't ask. In Hammerfell, a red flag means 'no quarter.' Shortdick and friends see this ship bearing down on them, and even fast as their little boats are they can't get out of the way, and then they see our flag. No normal redguard would run from a fight, but his friends are apparently more worthless than he was, because they start jumping overboard. He sees he's practically alone, and sure enough he jumps, too. By this time I'd had enough fun, so we slow down and send out our lifeboat to pick them out of the water. But the Abecean, she's a canny one. Looks calmer than the Sea of Ghosts, but underneath there are strange eddies and stranger beasts. By the time we got to their position, there wasn't hide nor hair of those redguard. Not a one. The gods will do as they will, I thought, and good riddance.

A few months later I was back in the area and decide I'm going to try for Stros M'kai again. I go to the customs office and when the new officer there sees me, he turns as white as your ass cheek. Gives me my papers and orders the merchant guild to give me a fat discount. Then on the docks I hear the ra'gada sailors calling me Tu'kathwa. They knew that customs officer had crossed me, and the next day he and everyone he knew just vanished from the face of Nirn. The name has stuck ever since." Rebec takes a long swig, looking smug and still not especially drunk. Two more bottles have been added to her row.

Baldur, who was quickly trying to drink away his old memory, and the new trauma that was just added to it was on his twelfth mug, and the effects of the alcohol were beginning to be too much. "Troll shit! Dat storey wusn't reel!"

The sailor keeps her sly little smile and takes another swig. "You just remember that, Bodlar Red-Blow, if you ever think to cheat me. The gods defend my virtue, even if I don't."

Rebec finishes the bottle, her twelfth, and slaps it down with a satisfied sigh which ends in a burp. She's earning her moniker now, her eyes starting to swim. "You're looking a little green there, Blofur. I win, admit it. That'll teach you Sformclocks to challenge a sailor to duel by mead." 

"No, eye can steal...driynk."

Baldur calls for a soldier to give him his thirteenth mug, but he just couldn’t get it to pass his lips. The alcohol he consumed on top of the pain in his gut from all the liquid was too much.

"And I ain't screwd no hagrobin. Was only kissed while I was passed ou-"

Baldur toppled over out of his chair and was fast asleep. Some of the men apparently had been betting on the contest, and expected him to be the victor. The losers let out their groans of disappointment, and they got up and carried their captain up to his quarters to sleep off the alcohol. 

[The Good Doctor]

Rebec, Baldur
Fort Neugrad
Night

At the commander's collapse, Rebec laughs and stands, tottering, from her chair. "The lasht woman standing again. Thash right! Don't you forget it." Still hooting and mumbling, she manages to find a privy, then staggers up the stairs towards where she vaguely remembers the barracks are located.

Only it isn't the barracks door she stumbles through, but the fort commander's quarters. Rebec stares in confusion a moment at Baldur's unconscious form sprawled across the bed. There's an inviting empty space in the furs, and gods only know where the barracks are.

"Oh why the 'blivion not," she says, flopping down on the bed next to him, boots and all. She burrows into the furs and is instantly asleep.

***

Oh man that sure was fun. Well time to get up and...oh Talos, I feel like crap! Too much mead. Wait where am I? 

Baldur started looking around and started to notice that the place he was in while not the fort looked very familiar. He started to panic when he saw the animal parts and totems with animal heads...and the smell. But what really freaked him out was when he realized he was chained to the bed. Before he got the chance to really panic, a familiar face appeared before him.

"Welcome back, Baldur! Time to consummate our love!" 

No, no! No please! Talos, save me!

The hagraven that Baldur saw all those years ago clawed off her clothes, and then began to claw off Baldur's.

"Ooh, what a strong physique you have! Come to Moira!"

"Ahhhhhhh! Nooooooo!"

***

"Uhauahhhhaaahaaa!"

Baldur bolted out of bed after he finally woke up, never so thankful in his life that he just had a dream, and then unthankful when he realized his fire went out in his quarters, and that he was only in his loin cloth.

It was still late, so Baldur decided to go back to bed after he got another fire going. When he did, he didn't notice that someone was in his bed.

Please Vaermina, stop sending me these dreams so I can...

Baldur felt the extra warmth of his bed and realized he wasn't alone. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he slowly turned his head to the other side of his bed. He got up, and grabbed his axe from next to his armor on a mannequin, and prepared to lift the covers.

You want to screw with me? Huh, you disgusting piece of shit? Huh? I'm done with this! One...two..

"Three! Ha! Huh?"

When Baldur climbed out of the bed the first time, Rebec had just added to her drool puddle and slept on under the furs. Her dreams have not been sweet either, the terror from her captivity and battle forming restless images of menace.

She is just sliding back into a deeper sleep when the furs are ripped back and the morning cold shocks her awake. Her bleary eyes focus enough to see a large form looming over her with axe raised, and suddenly her hangover is the last of her worries. Instinctively she scrambles away, but gets caught in the furs and crashes to the floor on the other side of the bed, a pair of upraised boots the only thing visible of her.

Cursing, she sits up and tries to get the figure to focus. Recognizing Baldur, she groans. "Whale shit on a platter, Captain. What in Oblivion do you think you're doing."

"Me? What are-"

"Hey Captain, are you okay? We thought we heard screaming in there. It sounded like "Uhauahhhhaaahaaa!" Then we thought we heard someone in there. You okay?" said a solier at the door.

"I heard it too. Uh, it must have been that Rebec woman. She must be roaming the halls still drunk. Just go back to sleep," said Baldur.

"You sure? Should we go looking for her?" asked the soldier.

"No, just go to bed." said Baldur.

"You sure you're not being held hostage or something? Want me to come i-"

"Damn it, if you don't get back to bed, YOU'LL be the one screaming!" said Baldur.

Baldur waited a moment, and heard the soldier beating his feet to hurry up and leave before he pissed the Captain off any further.

"Okay, now tell me what are you doing in my chambers? I thought you were...what are you doing here?" 

Rebec is still trying to figure out how to disentangle herself. She's about to give some confident reply when she realizes she's not quite sure what she's doing there, either. Finally making it to her feet, she scratches her head. One sheaf of hair is sticking straight out at a gravity-defying angle, and this only makes it worse. "I, uh... well didn't you..." She's fully clothed, the ship captain suddenly realizes, so he probably didn't. "I suppose I got lost. Sorry. You can put the axe down now, eh?" He's still in throwing range, and it wouldn't be the first time a nighttime encounter ended with weapons drawn.

"Oh, sorry about that. Well, my bed's big enough for two, and you walking out here in the middle of the night will just give the men something to gossip about, so you might as well stay for the remainder of the night. You can put your armor on that mannequin next to mine." 

Rebec is more shocked at this reply than if he'd have thrown the axe. She doesn't meet many gentlemanly sorts, and is not sure what to do with one. The bed is definitely more comfortable than the slab she had in the barracks, however. Not looking a gift horker in the mouth, she proceeds to remove her boots and cuirass, having to strip down to her underthings in the process. She spies one of the captain's tunics hanging over a chair and picks it up, smells it and finds it to be in acceptable ranges, so she throws it on over her head. At last she resumes her spot in the furs, slowly becoming pleased at this turn of events. It could be a lot worse. "What was that all about anyway? Do you often hack your bedmates to death?"

Baldur got back into the bed as he thought about her reply, and decided to proceed carefully.

"How much of our drinking contest do you remember?"

"It's coming back to me." Rebec recalls the second-in-command flying out of his chair at some shock and landing on the floor. "Wait... that hag story. Oh, gods." She starts to laugh again, then cuts off abruptly. "You're not telling me you had a hag flashback? And you thought I...? Shor's bones, captain. I can't look that bad."

"No, it's not that. I didn't know it was you in my bed. I just woke up out the nightmare, and suddenly someone's in my bed...You look nothing like a hag at all, thank the nine." 

She laughs, and sits up on one elbow. The hangover fog is receding, and as she gets used to the idea that she's in the commander's bed, other possibilities present themselves. "You're not so bad yourself. We could... give you something else to think about. I don't have claws and feathers, but I could wheeze a little if it helps."

"I really shouldn't. I'm your commanding officer. It could seem like I took advantage. Although the Stormcloaks are a relatively new force. Rules about that haven't been decided yet...I mean if I were to consider it." 

Rebec snorts."You won't need to file a report or anything." She flops back down, adjusting to the disappointment. Battle adrenaline always makes her randy after the danger is done, and this one had been a closer brush with death than the usual. "I'm not really in your ranks, but fine and well," she says, resigned. "I don't let any of my crew plant the flag amidships, either. They know better than to try. You're a lovely man and you're nice enough to let me bunk here, so I promise to be chaste as a shriveled monk the rest of the night."

"Wait wait! I didn't mean to offend! I'm just...I do want t- I mean..."

Baldur wasn't sure what to do. He's never met a woman who took charge like this in this situation. Not since the close encounter with the hagraven. He was trying to play it safe and let her initiate the fun, but that strategy backfired.

"Let's start over. I have an idea. You like roleplay, Captain?" 

Rebec had already closed her eyes to try to sleep, but cracks one open and eyes Baldur with it. Wary of hagraven requests, she ventures, "Ysgramor and the naughty shieldthane? You could do with more beard, but I suppose it could work..."

"I was thinking more along the lines of...Stormcloak and the evil Thalmor Justiciar. You could...interrogate me. I've got rope." 

Rebec sits up, staring down at this new depraved Baldur with growing admiration. "Very well, you... you... Nord." The sailor's Thalmor imitation capabilities are limited, though she makes a fair approximation of the snooty accent. "But I need no rope. I have the power of the Aldmeri Dominion at my very fingertips." She throws a leg over him, straddling and pinning him underneath her. A pity I didn't learn that shock spell. So many uses.... "This is going to hurt, you weak, puny human. Your Talos cannot save you now."

"By Shor, I won't give in! No amount of pain or pleasure will make me forsake the name of almighty Talos! Talos the Mighty! Talos the unerring! Talos the unassai-",

As Rebec cut Baldur off with a kiss, Baldur thought to himself,

Oh yea, I made the right call.

[The Good Doctor]

Boldir
Shor's Stone

"Pa, what was mamma like?"

Your ma... She was unique. A real beauty, and clever as a witch. She loved you more than anything."

"Then why did she leave?"

"She had to. She had to and nothing could stop her."

"If she loved us so much, why didn't she bring us?"

"Because she loved you little Cub, and where she went is no place to bring people you love."

"Where she went is no place to bring people you love. "
"No place to bring people you love."
"People you love."

Boldir's home caught fire, and the sounds of swords clashing rang out. Reval sprawled on the ground, along with the corpses of others. Baldur was coated in red, back-to-back with Rebec. A woman's voice cried and then laughed.

"Ma!"

Boldir sat up in his cot covered in sweat. His head was throbbing something fierce. He looked around. He was in the Fort Neugrad infirmary. 

"Arrgh... Son of a- ... Why in Oblivion am I in here?"

Boldir thought hard. Why in the name of Talos did I dream about ma? I have barely thought about her in- 

At that moment, the previous night's events all flooded back to him. The drinking, the stories... Baldur and...

"Oh gods."

Boldir fell back onto the cot. Did that bastard marry my ma? That'd make him my younger stepfather. "Heheh... Hehehe Hehehahahahahahaha!" Boldir laughed until his side felt like it would burst. It's a good thing the room was empty at the moment. It wouldn't do to have the grunts seeing him cracking up so hard. I hope that bitch has more luck with her next victim! "Ha!"

Now that he was sober, Boldir saw the hilarity of the situation. If his mom's reason for abandoning him was to start some weird coven, he no longer felt any obligation to care for her. He certainly wasn't going to let the bitch come between him and his brother.

Boldir sat back up. His chest still heaving. It was funny, though the rest of the dream still troubled him.
Perhaps Baldur was right. I need to take a damn vacation.

[The Good Doctor]

Rebec Red-Eye - epilogue
 

At the prodding of Captain Baldur Red-Snow- now General Baldur Red-Snow- Rebec returned to Solitude and in private audience with King Ulfric, confessed her role in carrying Thalmor documents for Thane Erikur. Erikur and his Altmer mage attendant Melaran were arrested, the thane’s assets seized, and in exchange for his life the Altmer talked, confirming Rebec’s story. Erikur had been trading information on the court for elven weapons and high-priced arcana. Melaran was exiled from Skyrim, and Erikur turned over to the ministrations of Sybille Stentor in the Blue Palace dungeons- a quick death considered too good for him.

Rebec spent a few days in Castle Dour’s prison while this was sorted out, but with the threat of a blockade looming, Ulfric bent to Baldur Red-Snow’s counsel and freed the ship captain in exchange for her pledge to help the crown establish a stronger navy. She was left little choice, but for the challenge and to break the hated blockade, Rebec threw herself into the task.

Shipbuilding efforts in Skyrim’s ports were ramped up, merchant vessels refitted into warships, and brand new crews put into training on rowing machines while they waited for their ships. Rebec counseled Ulfric to order ships and pre-made ship pieces from High Rock, to save time and give the Breton shipyards less incentive to supply or repair Imperial Navy ships. They also put in an order with the Dawnguard for their crossbows, a weapon ideal for fighting from a ship’s deck.

As these plans were being put into motion, she made a trip to Hammerfell, warning harbormasters there of the imperial plans, and telling loudly around in the salt taverns about how imperial soldiers had given her over to the Thalmor to be tortured. Finally she went on to Sentinel, where her brother Vilnur Salt-Beard had retired. Off the coast of Sentinel, Rebec spotted the first of the Imperial Navy blockade fleet headed north.

Returning swiftly to Skyrim with the news, Rebec and the other ship captains put their naval strategy in motion. In the first weeks as imperial ships took anchor off all of Skyrim’s ports, they concentrated on running the blockade. True to reputation, Rebec did this most often at dusk or during times of poor visibility, and so was able to lure some imperial ships to break on icebergs or run aground. The imperial captains became used to their maneuvers, however, and better at intercepting.

Rebec’s ship was among the first to spring the next trap. An imperial galley “caught” the Harpy, only to find itself bound with grappling hooks and Stormcloak infantry pouring up from belowdecks. These boarding actions increased Stormcloak losses, but when successful they netted prisoners and rich supply stores. The plan was to continue alternating running with aggressive ramming and boarding engagements, the latter focused especially on re-supply ships. They could then trust the Sea of Ghosts to do the rest of the work for them.

Rebec had never had so much fun in her life.

There was one thing that her ship could not outrun. Rebec had ordered all ships lined with wicker shielding and warding enchantments, but in one fierce battle, an imperial battlemage succeeded in catching her hull on fire. The Harpy was forced to disengage and flee. Rebec and most of her crew escaped and were picked up by another Stormcloak vessel, but the damage was done. From the deck, she watched her ship burn until the Sea of Ghosts took it.

Back in Solitude, King Ulfric rewarded her service by naming her High Admiral of the royal navy, and promised her another ship made to her specifications. Alone in her quarters that night, Rebec wept, the stink of burnt flesh and of her own singed hair still in her nostrils.

Her brother Vilnur arrived in Skyrim a short time later. The admiral then remembered the promise she had made to Baldur Red-Snow on her fateful trip to Falkreath, to help him and to make amends for her involvement in endangering their fort. She asked leave from the king to make another supply run to Fort Neugrad, this time without stashed Thalmor messages- and found to her surprise that she was looking forward to seeing the Necro Nords again. 

[The Good Doctor]

Baldur Red-Snow - epilogue

Baldur was promoted to General by Ulfric Stormcloak for his success in Falkreath. He was given the same authority as Galmar, and is personally responsible for the actions of the Necro Nords. He changed his appearance slightly after his promotion, changing his war paint to a blue swirl on his right cheek, and trimming his beard down. Baldur now allowed the Dunmer people to join if they proved to have the skill. This was how he chose to honor Reval. Some people suggested that they change the name since it was no longer all Nord, but they couldn't think of a better name, so it stayed. Sometimes Baldur would refer to his new Dunmer soldiers as "Draugr Dunmer". Because of this, when people spoke of the force as a whole, they would refer to them as the "Grim Ones" which became their unofficial title. He was donned with a black cape with the Windhelm bear symbol on it in silver. It was attached under his shoulder pauldrons. His cape was enchanted with fire resistance, and his two axes were enchanted with lightning damage. He still kept his shield with him for when it was necessary to switch from his axes to his old style of axe and shield, and wore it on his back over his cape, covering the bear symbol.

Baldur had encountered Lorgar, occasionally playing games of cat and mouse in the woods. He had grown to be a troublesome figure, often sniping stormcloak men, ambushing supply lines, and even sniping at Baldur a few times. Some of the greener members of the Stormcloaks started calling him the Darkened Archer out of fear, and the name stuck ever since. Baldur tried taunting the man by pretending to be alone, and bringing up his men who were killed, but Lorgar showed that he learned from his mistakes, and he was not able to lure him in a trap. Baldur never got a chance to speak to him in person, only catching glimpses of him from time to time. The attacks eventually ceased, and Baldur was then sent to Whiterun to investigate the rumors of Tullius and Balgruuf organizing attacks on the men there. Baldur could not find anything behind the random attacks however, which seemed to be mainly random bandit and mercenary attacks, but after he and his "Grim Ones" killed enough of them, the attacks eventually halted. He trained with the Companions during that time after persuading them with much coin since they normally did not assist non Companion members. During that time, he became a lot better with his axes and became much more nimble in his heavy armor.

He never did get involved with tavern wenches like he originally planned partly due to his new rank, and partly due to Rebec, who he got to know better during their trip to Solitude. He started realizing he was getting too old to be sleeping around without developing feelings, and he began to develop some for Rebec, although he never told her about them, as she was a free spirit. 

[The Good Doctor]

Boldir Iron-brow epilogue
 

Two weeks after the battle in the camp, Boldir was finally permitted to take the leave he'd requested. He sought out Reval's son, Vordyn, and gave him Reval's last words along with his ashes and equipment. Few other words were shared, as Boldir wanted to allow the man to grieve in peace.

During his leave, Boldir visited Whiterun, where he spent much his downtime playing his flute at the inn. It turned out that one thing he had in common with civilians was a love for the music. On the third night of his stay, he met a woman named Carlotta, and quickly became infatuated with her. To prove his affections in the best way a Nord knew how, Boldir went and beat the shit out of a local bard who'd been harassing her.

In the following weeks he would buy from her fruit stand several times a day just for the chance to speak with her, which he found himself doing more and more of. After a good while of getting to know each other, Boldir was convinced of two things. One is that Carlotta was the most amazing woman he'd ever met, and two, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. One night, while sharing a table at the tavern, he decided it was time, and pulled an Amulet of Mara from under his tunic. Sadly, it was not to be. Carlotta felt much the same, but her old husband had been a soldier as well, and for the sake of her daughter, she was not going to marry another and risk the heartache of losing him again. That night, Boldir drank himself to sleep before returning to Falkreath, unsure if he should blame her for the denial, or himself for not trying harder. He wouldn't let it show in front of the grunts, but Carlotta rarely left his mind. He doubled down on his duties in order to distract himself.

During the second month after the battle, Boldir received a promotion, taking Baldur's previous rank as Captain. He oversaw the preparations in Falkreath hold for the inevitable invasion. At now-General Baldur's behest, he traveled to every town of every hold and gathered the men who would be moved to the new camp at Orphan Rock in Falkreath. He also handled the rebuilding of Helgen, which was set up as a command post as well as a supply depot. He also insured tha Skybound Watch and its inner passages were repaired and refurbished. The underground tunnels they held would prove to be a blessing for transporting supplies across the camp, a little gift from their ancestors. With Baldur now busy much of the time with his position as general, it often fell to Boldir to handle the soldiers of Neugrad, and sometimes even the men of the standing army at Orphan Rock. With his efforts, the soldiers of both locations were kept in shape, and were never allowed to be lazy on the job. The troops were effective, the positions were strong. No army of Elves or Imperials was going to get into Skyrim without a fight.

[The Good Doctor]

Witch-king (aka Witchie)
Chapter I, Epilogue

The trip to Solitude was uneventful. Once he had reached the Blue palace he just handed the letter over to guard and said it was important that Ulfric got it and to tell the high king that it was found in an imperial camp. Meeting with Ulfric might not be the wisest of actions, espeically when he call himself the Witch-king. It was for the best to avoid such a meeting altogether. When he had left city and felt that he was out of sight he casted the recall spell that took him back to Fort Neugrad. Once back he made his course straight for the prison, there was things to collect.
The prison was dark and damp as always and the elf was lying in his cell, this time dressed only in rags. The Thalmor was barely twitching from the larvae anymore. Witchie then went to check on the cats cell, which proved to be empty. The khajiit must have escaped somehow. But the chair and the crystal he had left in front the cats cell was still there. He picked crystal and noticed that it had filled nicely, more than he expected from warrior cat. He stored the crystal inside his robe, pulled the chair over to the elf's cell and sat down. He dismissed the larvae backto oblivion and the elf fell unconcious from the fatigue. He then prepared the summoning spell. Witchie hadn't controlled a shade from Quagmire in a long time and they are tricky to control. Hopefully his skills wasn't that rusty. A black creature appeared before him as the spell was cast. It was blacker than any abyss and constantly shifting it's form, the other more wicked than the last, but always remaining pitch black. The shade was then ordered to the elf. It swept soundlessly across the floor, through the bars like if it was smoke and then covered the elf like a tight blanket before disappearing into the Thalmor. The elf then started to twitch again and giving up noice suggesting he was in pain or great horror.
Navigating the memories of the elf with the shade was like navigating a five dimensional maze while blindfolded and having a rabid skeever as your bloodhound. Constantly fighting the shade's lust to claim the memories for Vaermina. He had to focus hard just to stabilize the picture and the sound, but even then the picture was often blurry and the speech became mumbling. The search went on for what must've been hours. Then after a few hours of search he lost focus for a split second, it was enough for him to lose control over shade that started ravaging the memories. When got control over the shade again the damage had already been done. He continued his search nonetheless , hoping that the memories taken by the shade was of no importance. But he was soon proven wrong as he found what he believed to be the more recent memories of elf. Most memories were gone and those that remained was almost ravaged beyond recognition. Apart from brief memories of traversing a forest he managed find something of value.

"Important... operations... Falkreath... The Reach"

It wasn't much and it could for all he knew be an old memory from before the civil war or when the Empire controlled The Reach and Falkreath. But it was all he had to go on. And it would have to do. Witchie dismissed the shade back to Quagmire and sat up from the chair and walked into the cell. The elf was lying still now and breathing unevenly. He lay a hand on the elf chest. And sent an ice spike through his heart. The breathing stopped as the soul was consumed. Witchie didn't feel any younger but he felt more power surging through him than last time. He removed the ice chaining the crystal to the elf's hand and picked it up. The crystal had filled even more than the cat's, mostly due to the magical abilities of the elf.

Witchie saddled a black horse and set out to search for the Thalmor, it was a long shot and he knew it. The search went on for three months and he didn't find a trace of the Thalmor, he did however find Lorgar. Though that was brief encounter. After that he spent more time training and altering his new companion, the raven he had named Karsh. The Raven proved to be smart and with the help of magic he managed to teach Karsh a lot of things, maybe even including the human language. At least the raven seemed to know what he said, even though it could only say the usual croak. And with further alteration of the raven's body it became stronger and more agile.
The time went on and the horse eventually died from fatigue, when it died he managed to trap it's soul inside a soul gem he had "borrowed" from one of the court wizards in Skyrim. He then carefully cut the horse open and put the soul gem close to the heart. He then sealed the wound and used necromancy to raise the horse. Now the horse would never need rest or food. The soul gem was to help fuel the magic and to prevent the horse from decaying by keeping the heart beating, pumping around foul magic with the blood.
He rarely went back to the fort to resupply and spent more time stalking the forests of Falkreath, he had given up on The Reach long ago. The Legion would come and with them, the Thalmor. And he would await their arrival. 

[The Good Doctor]

Epilogue - Lorgar Grim-Maw
Two and a half months after the Fall of Camp Rommulas.
Falkreath Hold

Lorgar sat alone beside a desolate campfire in the dead of night, in a glade that was located near Helgen. Lorgar was clad in ragged legionary light armour, along with a dark hood and cloak covering his scarred filled face in shadow. An ebony bow sat beside him, along with a quiver of ebony tipped arrows and two ebony daggers where strapped to his legs. He sat there, staring at the fading embers of his fire, obviously deep in thought,

Then he noticed that something moved on the corner of his right eye. He quickly turned his head to see what it was. It was a man in black hooded torn robe, with steel plate gauntlets and despite the light coming from the fire, you could not see the mans face. It was like his face was consumed by darkness. Lorgar quickly got up and drew his weapon.

"If I wanted to fight you would be dead already." the robed man said. "And we wouldn't have this discussion then, would we?" now the voice came from behind. Lorgar turned around and saw another identical robed man. 

Lorgar, while loosening his grip on his arrow, still aimed his ebony bow at the first figure while turning his head to the second, he spoke in a cold and emotionless voice,

"Forgive me if I seem a little on edge, I don't usually have "discussions" in these parts of the woods...."

"I wanted to see what kind of person that has been troubling my men for the last months." the one the right said. "I would suggest you sheath your weapon and sit down." now coming from the left man.

Ignoring the man's comment about his "men", Lorgar threw down his bow onto the left, and sat down on a rock. He drew one of his daggers and started to sharpen it with a whetstone. He asked the shadowed men.

"You know of me?"

"Otherwise I wouldn't seek you out." now the voice came from the other side of the fire. Lorgar looked up and saw another one. He walked up to the fire and sat down by it, on the opposite side of Lorgar. When he sat down the other two on the sides just disappeared.

"We've met before. I think you can remember."

Lorgar continued to stare at the embers of the fire. The moonlight was quite bright tonight; it illuminated the glade and Lorgar's dark armor. Lorgar didn't even bother to glance at the shadowed man as he said,

"The skirmish at Fort Neurand if i'm not mistaken?"

"So you survived my wolf? Interesting. And I presume that it was my wolf that gave you that scar."

Lorgar, under his hood, smiled revealing his wolf-like fangs in the moonlight,

"Your wolf assumed I was easy prey, it made a big mistake..."

He continued staring at the burning embers, before questioning the shadowed man in a cold tone,

"Why would such a powerful stormcloak officer want to talk to a simple legionary like me?"

"I think we can both agree that none of us can be called "simple". And I found an axe outside the fort after the battle, impressive piece of weaponry. Out of curiosity, do you know who it belonged to?"

Lorgar looked cursorily at the shadowed man, before speaking, "Did this "axe" feel super heavy, almost impossible to carry, and was it clad in ancient runes?"

"Let me guess, it's yours. Isn't it?"

Lorgar looked away, Nolstagia and regret started to stab at him, it only lasted a few seconds however. I left that behind me...

"It's name is Bylderfang, a rune axe of the Skaal."

"I expect you want it back then. I'm going to offer you a trade. One you might even enjoy." the man paused. And the flames started to shape in the air. It took the shape of an altmer's face. Someone Lorgar remembered. "I think you know this man. He was at your camp that got destroyed about two months ago. He's a Thalmor Grand Overseer. Unfortunately he managed to escape. I want him dead. So here's the deal: You go south, back to the Legion. Find him. Kill him. And bring me his head. If you do this I will give back your axe."

Lorgar looked at the shadowed men thoughtfully, before speaking, 

“I have one condition, I can disappear into the darkness if I so wish, but I recognize the magic you wield, you can manipulate the darkness around you, correct? 

"Yes."

"I can safely assume we have one thing in common..." Lorgar looked almost sad for a second under his hood, but that expression soon twisted into a smile, "We are both devoid of our humanity...grant my cloak the ability to shroud my face in shadows and I shall get you the head of the dominion overseer."

"Turn around." now the voice came from behind. Lorgar turned his head around and before he could see anything he found his face stuck in an iron grip. He was stuck in that position for a couple of seconds or minutes, could be hours. He lost track of time. Then the hand was removed and he found himself staring at the robed man yet again. But this man had a stalhrim sword at his side.

Lorgar chuckled darkly, "Stalrhim? I won’t ask how you get hold of skaalish weaponry. No matter, is the deed done?”

"A strange request. But yes, no one will see your face whenever you hood is up."

Lorgar looked up into the night to gaze upon the bright stars, before saying

"A very small part of me feels regret and nostalgia for doing this, but only a small part...I would feel like that when I was weak and pathetic…" He tore his gaze from the stars and faced the shadowed man "Very well then, I’ll kill the High-Overseer for you…”

A black horse walked up besides the man that he then proceeded to mount.

"One more thing. I want his death to be as public as possible." The robed man then rode off into the woods. Blending into darkness till Lorgar could no longer see him.

Lorgar was alone again in the glade. Nothing but silence and the crackling of the dying fire..

Silence...