[center][i]Hank, Peik, and I wrote something. [/i][/center]

Having witnessed the butchery of his companions and finding himself backed into a corner, Narivar lashed out like a cornered animal, bringing the fight towards Do’Karth, the unarmoured of the two targets. Edith, clad in heavy plate armour and carrying a sufficiently large shield would have been quite ready to ward off any strikes the Ashlander would dole out with his spear and leave him quite exposed. He harboured no illusion he was making it out of the situation on top; his only goal was to take at least one of the bastards with him before being slain. At least then he would rejoin his brothers in arms.


The Dunmer thrusted towards the charging Khajiit, who managed to ward the deadly glass blade away from his torso with his quarterstaff, halting his advance as he found himself on defense. It was an unhurried thing, as he only had to hold Narivar’s attention for long enough for Edith to take him, which she did when she came up behind the Ashlander, who spun to try and fend her off, exposing his back to Do’Karth for a moment, who wasted no time in driving the end of his staff into the back of Narivar’s knee, collapsing it. Edith wasted no time in bashing the Dunmer’s chest with the corner of her shield in a powerful swing, knocking him on his back and sending his spear skirting from his grasp. In a matter of seconds, the Ashlander’s leader was disarmed and apprehended. He was set upon immediately and Edith, ever ready with even more rope, secured the prisoner like she were tying a boat to a dock. “Good work.” She said to Do’Karth, who nodded in response and suddenly felt the fatigue of the day hit him like a lead weight. The thought of finding a hammock suddenly felt very appealing. 


While all of that was going on, Niernen found herself left alone with the two remaining Ashlanders. Their faces turned grim when they saw what Do’Karth and Edith were up to, but they were torn between rushing to their leader and the harsh words that Niernen had spoken earlier about the Nerevarine. Flames still danced in the female elf’s hands and she slowly turned to face the Ashlanders, a wary expression on her face. She really did not want to fight them now -- they were too close, the room was too small. She winced when memories of Argonians with wicked war-blades flashed through her mind. 


[i]“Surrender,”[/i] Niernen hissed in Dummeris and raised her hands, ready to douse the Ashlanders in liquid flames at a split second’s notice, but their natural resistance to fire would make it more difficult to incinerate them completely. The Ashlanders hesitated, their weapons still in their hands, and Niernen’s heart leapt in her throat. [i]“All of us can make it out alive if you lay down your arms, kinsmen. Do not tempt fate,”[/i] she added, speaking quickly, a slight tremble to her voice. She emphasized the last few words by flaring the idle fire in her hands. [i]“Three… two…”[/i] 


Convinced, the Ashlanders looked at each other, dropped their weapons to the floor and sank down on their knees, their hands in the air. Niernen allowed herself a long sigh and lowered her hands, the flames extinguishing. She was swaying where she stood and stepped away for a few seconds to find support against a wall. While Edith was busy with Narivar, Sadri executed a timely return to the chamber and stepped in swiftly to bind the other two Ashlanders with even more rope, preventing them from any further hijinks. 


Making his way away from his adversaries, both fallen and subdued, the Khajiit noticed Niernen and Sadri, two individuals he was rather pleased to see weren’t caught in the crossfire. Behind them were a pair of bound Ashlander warriors, who were disarmed and kneeling compliantly, the fight having left them. Niernen convincing them to cooperate earlier had clearly helped matters. “Do’Karth would like to make note that his first time in a Dwemer ruin was hardly one considered all that enjoyable. He is pleased to see you well,” he said, smiling at his reunited friend.


Having regained her composure, Niernen looked up to see the Khajiit approach. Pleased to see Do’Karth was still in form, Niernen returned his smile with a beaming example of her own and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She felt the same flurry of emotions in her guts as before. Frustrated, she straightened her face as best she could and tried not to think about how agile and powerful Do’Karth looked while beating up fools -- despite her best efforts, her cheeks were flushed. Niernen hoped Do’Karth would assume it was from exertion, not… other things. 


''Yeah, it doesn't get any better in further trips.'' Sadri replied to Do'Karth as he walked forward in a somewhat hurried pace, his hand red with Raelyn's blood. It was a nice change of pace to not be part of the action for once, even though in this case it meant trying to play medic, and then constable with the Ashlanders. ''Saw your tricks with that rod. Nice.’’ He told Do’Karth, and pointed back at the remains of the Centurion with his thumb. ‘’Shame I didn't get to see that damn brass giant go down though.''


''Never got to say it, but thought you were dead. Glad you aren't,'' Sadri added as he turned to the sickly looking Battlemage that stood next to him - she was a familiar sight, he remembered her from Windhelm, but was quite sure he had seen her before that as well. It was a small world.


“Glad to be alive,” Niernen quipped to Sadri. Now that she saw him up close it confirmed her suspicions that she’d seen him before Windhelm, though it was hard to place exactly where and when. It would have to wait -- now wasn’t exactly the time to ask.


''So, we can open the door now, right? I've spent enough of my life in these damned ruins to be fascinated by staying any further,'' Sadri asked, looking at Narivar, eyeing the spear from time to time. He had set eyes on it the moment he had seen this fellow, and was quite glad that nobody had decided to play keeps with it. Yet. 


Do’Karth shrugged indifferently. “It was nothing. Do’Karth has been fighting for as long as he can remember, it will take far more than the likes of them to introduce me to my gods.” he smiled, following the gaze towards the Centurion. “That and something resembling sense. Avoid the large, murderous contraptions and they cannot harm you, no?” 


The prompt about opening the door was another challenge entirely. “It would seem our new friend here swallowed the key to that door. Perhaps you know a way to get it out of him?” the Khajiit asked Sadri, not expecting anything less than a murderous response.


''He swallowed the key?'' Sadri asked, brow raised, trying to make sense of the Khajiit's words. How'd he even swallow a Dwemer key? Even the most experienced whores of Daggerfall would agree that it was quite a feat. He looked at Narivar again, and then he looked back at Do'Karth. ''Right. I know a way, but it's not exactly pleasant,'' he said, looking at his boots. He'd have just gutted the damn Ashlander straight away, but frankly, he didn't want to screw Madura any further.


''May I, Bright-Wings?'' Sadri asked Edith, as he took a few steps back from the kneeling Ashlander.


Edith regarded Sadri with apprehension, looking between him, her prisoner, and her hog-tied journalist charge with uncertainty. “Alive. We need him to talk.” she said as way of consent, stepping back, morbidly curious as to what Sadri had in mind. 


''Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way,'' Sadri replied to Edith with a fake sense of decorum and aristocracy, before turning to Niernen for a moment. ''Don't look, sweetheart,'' he said jokingly before stepping further in a flash, and sending his foot flying forwards in a punt kick into the mer's belly. He remembered one of the games he had played with the kids in his neighborhood when he was just a teenager - Sarhad's father had bought his boy an enchanted leather ball that kept its rigidity no matter how much it was battered, and the boys of the street had taken a liking to kicking the ball around. They would gather teams and try to kick the ball into the rival team's post. 


Now there was no ball to kick, nor was there a goal post, and Sadri hadn't played the game in decades - but he still trusted that he could send one hell of a punt. The kick connected with the Dunmer's belly, and a disgusting sounding grunt came out, and Sadri looked down at the Ashlander. ''Sorry,'' he said as he took a few more steps back, only to rush forward for a punt again, hoping for the mer to vomit out the contents of his belly. He wasn't exactly enjoying this, and at this rate, the Mer would end up vomiting his guts out if he didn’t vomit the key out.


Initially tempted to retort with something equally sassy to Sadri’s comment, Niernen quickly shut up and averted her gaze when the older Dunmer started kicking Narivar’s abdomen with unrestrained force. Bizarre -- she had been prepared to roast Madura’s brother alive if it had been necessary, but now that he was disarmed and on the ground she suddenly couldn’t stand to look at him being abused. Niernen cast a guilty glance at Madura, the brave journalist who had vouched for her, and mouthed ‘Sorry’. 

Sadri’s gentle prodding, that is precision kicks that would make any child who kicked around a ball green with envy, had something akin to the desired effect and soon Narivar started to retch, the contents of his belly, mostly bile and whatever he had for lunch, came spraying out of his mouth after just a few hits. Do’Karth watched, leaning on his staff for support as he watched his companion work over the prisoner. Soon, a slight gleam in the Ashlander’s mouth caught Do’Karth’s eye. He placed a hand on Sadri’s shoulder to halt him before taking a knee in front of the downed Mer, and shoving several fingers inside of the wheezing mouth, grasped the key, pulling it free by a pair of claws. How Narivar swallowed this without choking to death was nothing short of astonishing. 


The Khajiit reached back, handing the key to Sadri. “The fruits of your labour.” Do’Karth stated, eying the glass spear with curiosity. He set is staff down and picked it up, feeling the weight and running a hand over the intricate engravings and metalwork that adorned the shaft, as well as inspecting the translucent green blade, which was a curiosity for the Khajiit. It was a beautiful weapon, reminiscent of the craftsmanship of the Altmer of Alinor. Do’Karth thought back to the times he’d seen Thalmor marching around Anequina with similar weapons and armour. 


The same thought that was doubtless filling Sadri’s mind for the weapon’s fate crossed Do’Karth’s. The Khajiit stood, glancing back towards the entrance, the last place he saw Solveig. He did not spot her immediately, but the gesture was likely caught by Sadri. “Do’Karth has it on good authority that women seem to be fond of sentimental gifts. This one can think of someone who would appreciate this, he thinks you know her very well.” he grinned at his friend, before glancing over at Niernen, whose skin was flushed. She looked… embarrassed? 


“Are you well, Niernen?” he asked, suddenly concerned. He’d been so caught up in the spoils of his victory that he’d momentarily forgotten that Niernen was thrown right back into the fray after being a prisoner of war. This had to be excruciating for her, he frowned. “We should get you somewhere warm, some food. Excuse Do’Karth, but you’ve seen much better days.”


Startled, Niernen looked at Do’Karth and stammered. She’d been somewhat zoned out while staring in morbid fascination how Sadri retrieved the key and, after that, lost in the gleam of the glass-tipped spear. “Y-yes, I’m fine. Well, that is to say, I have had better days…” she said and smiled sheepishly before attempting to conjure a more resolute expression. “But I want to help. Sleep and food can wait a little while longer.”


Do’Karth nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. “This one would think so. Normally one decides to rest after escaping captivity, but you are rather tenacious. Please do not overextend yourself, you are so close to safety, let us see you there, hm?”


The touch of Do’Karth’s hand on her shoulder sent a shiver through Niernen’s body. She enjoyed the contact for a few seconds, her copper eyes meeting Do’Karth’s amber gaze, before she responded. The instinct to say something immensely sappy was overwhelming and Niernen only managed to nuance the statement with humor at the last second. “As long as I have you -- to hide behind, I mean -- I have nothing to fear.” She gave him a warm smile, cleared her throat and looked at Sadri, seeing the wary look on her fellow Dunmer’s face. 


Sadri himself wasn't exactly sure whether to smile back at Do'Karth for his statement, or see a competitor in him. Admittedly, it was the cat who had taken down the fellow, but he had gotten the key out of that bastard, hadn't he? Plus, he had seen it first. Even if he hadn't, he really didn't care - he'd rather hand that over to Solveig himself. But he wasn't a creature immature enough to just reach for that. The Dwemer Key in his iron hand reminded of much more important matters at hand. The time to split loot, or play coy with others, was not now. Nonetheless, that did not help much to change his conflicted expression, and had a blank moment, feeling like a deer coming face to face with a hunter, when he noticed Niernen catching his gaze. [i]‘’S’wit.’’[/i]  


Do’Karth caught the somewhat resentful gaze from Sadri, and knew immediately what must have been going through his mind. The Khajiit burst out laughing. “Oh, this one did not mean to deceive you with his intentions. He meant you should give Solveig this,” he said, flourishing the spear around so the point was away from Sadri and the shaft was offered towards him for the taking. Do’Karth smiled. “You should be aware this one is spoken for. Besides, have you not seen Jorwen? You are quite brave for pining for his daughter. Do’Karth would not be so bold.” 


The Dunmer shot a glance back at Do'Karth, confused as to whether his feelings were that obvious or not - he was not really happy with how the cat had spoken of it out loud next to Niernen, Madura and Edith, but then again, he had kind of made it obvious by attacking that Dark Brotherhood brute back at the Pale Coasts, and it was Do'Karth who had propped him up afterwards. It made more sense in hindsight, and Sadri took a hold of the spear with his good hand, nodding for the Khajiit, grateful to both the cat and the greater powers at work for making this easy for him.


''If only it were up to me, Do'Karth. If only it were up to me.'' Didn't they say that love is blind? Sadri was almost halfway there. It was only normal that his heart chose rather difficult people to love. But the Dunmer wouldn't have felt anything beyond base attraction had it not been for the feeling that they shared something similar, deep down. And, well, he never was one for damsels in distress. ''I appreciate the sentiment. I appreciate this even more,'' he said, brandishing the spear before setting its tip down. ''Right. We've a door to open, don't we?''


The Khajiit grinned. “You are a bold warrior. This simply is another kind of dance, this one is confident you will find the steps. One should be so flattered that you have their back.” he offered reassuringly, patting the Dunmer on the shoulder before gingerly taking the key from Sadri, as the spear was a considerable burden to carry on its own. “But yes, Do’Karth is dying to know what our friends were trying to get at. As long as it’s not more Chaurus. This one has had enough of those beasts to last one of nine lives…” he trailed off, turning to look towards the door. The key suddenly felt heavy. Why did he do that to himself?


Niernen whispered a soft “Aww,” at the revelation that Sadri had feelings for Solveig. The idea of the battered old Dunmer finding love lifted her spirits, even if she barely knew him. At the same time, her eye twitched and she looked away when Do’Karth reminded her that he was now spoken for. Determined not to let it get to her, she thought about something -- anything -- else. A frown slowly made itself master of her face and she opened her mouth to say something. 


“What… is a Chaurus?” she asked cautiously, her eyes shifting between Do’Karth and Sadri.


“Imagine the largest insect you’ve ever seen, then make it bigger and give it pincers as long as your arm. It still doesn’t do it justice.” Do’Karth replied, shaking his head at the memory of staring one of the beasts down. Sagax was the reason he was still alive today; the Khajiit’s brash foolishness nearly got himself killed.


With key in hand, Do’Karth approached the door, wondering why exactly Narivar was struggling to unlock and open the door. Granted, the door was rather imposing and thick, likely as a means to thwart brute force from permitting entry, and stressful situations tended to make one uncoordinated, but the large key slid in effortlessly and the tumblers slid open effortlessly. “Huh.” The Khajiit remarked, expecting to have to work at it. Say what you will about the Dwemer, but they made things to last. 


Equally surprising was when the door opened easily with but a small amount of pressure; the Ashlanders could have pried for hours and not have made a budge, it seemed, and soon the entryway was opened, and what said behind was indeed an impressive haul. Were Do’Karth’s lips capable of whistling, he would have.


Flanking either side of the room were two massive Dwemer ballistas, angled upwards as if preparing to pierce the sky, their massive strings loose as they were out of battery. Each were seated on wheeled carts that were choked in position by wedges. They were clearly meant to be siege weapons, or mounted to a  wall as a defensive battery, or to the deck of a ship. 


Equally interesting was one of the most peculiar bows he’d seen before; it had peculiar locking mechanism on each of the arms along with a folding aperture, along with a locking slide that would reduce the arm length in half. It was a folding bow, one that could be stored in a compact form and extended with only a few small adjustments. Do’Karth knew this because of the schematic that was preserved behind a glass case had detailed illustrations of its use, as well as numerous writing in Dwemeris. Seated in an exquisite quiver of some thick hide and Dwemer-alloy embellishments were 20 arrows. Someone would doubtless find it useful, perhaps company armourers could reverse design it? 


A few chests were tucked away behind a gated area. Aside from the usual coin were a pair of Dwemer daggers, a few cut gems, and three grand soul gems and five lesser soul gems. 


“After you,” Do’Karth said to Niernen, directing his arm inwards towards the spoils. He called out towards Edith and the others to come take a look.


Delighted, the Dunmer sorceress stepped forward, eyes wide in amazement. She had been inside Dwemer ruins before but never an undisturbed specimen. This room looked like it hadn’t been touched in hundreds of years. She inspected the ballistas and folding bows, intrigued by the complexity of their design, but they were of no use to her personally. The poisoned blades of the Shadowscales had made sure Niernen would never be strong enough to draw a bowstring ever again and siege engines were widely outside of her area of expertise. The soul gems, on the other hand, were of greater interest. She was merely a novice enchanter, really, but grand soul gems were hard to come by and very valuable. 


“Don’t mind me,” Niernen muttered to herself while she held one of the soul gems against the light of a wall-mounted Dwemeri lamp. Throwing back her grey traveling cloak, she slipped the grand soul gems into one of the pouches at her waist. The ordinary gems -- among them amethysts, rubies and emeralds -- also attracted her interest. The Armigers that had captured Niernen had also robbed her of her septims and it felt justified to help herself to some of them, but the stern voice of her father in the back of her mind stopped Niernen from taking them all. [i]Greed is for men, not mer.[/i] 


Now that the room had proven itself to be free of any Chaurus adversaries or other Dwemer traps, Niernen decided to take advantage of the quiet moment by lowering herself to the floor for a minute at the far end of the chamber, looking out over the rest of the room and the entrance on the other side. She leaned her back against the wall behind her and wrapped her arms around herself and pulled up her knees so that her cloak covered her body entirely. She was cold and exhausted and suddenly very eager to return to civilization. 


“There’s some coin and a few gems in these chests,” she called out to Do’Karth. “You should grab a few before the others find them.” 


Right after Niernen finished her sentence, a satisfied whistle filled the room, followed by the one-armed Dunmer. ''Damn nice. You don't find such gear in this condition often. Y'know, we once had a similar expedition near Blacklight, we found an untouched, defunct Animunculus, human shaped. Our client had it dismantled and made it into plate armor. Such a fucking shame.'' Smacking his lips afterward, like having stumbled upon a nice meal, the Dunmer eyed the chests with tired and battered, but nonetheless uninhibited greed. Watching Niernen reveal their contents, and then inspect a powerful looking Soul Gem in artificial light, Sadri felt like protesting for a moment, but then remembered the glass spear he was holding right now. ''To the victor, the spoils,'' he mused, as he walked over to the chests himself, witnessing a whole lot of gems, coins, and a bunch of daggers. This was sure some nice treasure they had found.


After hearing Niernen call for Do'Karth to the loot, he voiced a newly found concern. ''You know, we used to split the booty after the job was done, with fixed shares. We've got our share of wounded who did the fighting. I mean, I'd likely get more this way, but that's not exactly fair play, is it?'' Sadri asked, inspecting the gems with his free hand.


“Oh, yes, of course,” Niernen said after a few seconds, a tone of embarrassment to her voice. “I wasn’t implying we shouldn’t share equally with the others, I just… don’t want Do’Karth to be left out.” The seated Dunmer woman cleared her throat and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, obscuring her face in shade. She hadn’t been part of a treasure hunt before. Now that Sadri had pointed it out, it seemed obvious that the loot should be split evenly, not taken by the first to clap eyes on them. “Apologies,” she added quietly. 


Do’Karth raised his hands in mock surrender. “Do’Karth needs no material wealth. He is happy to be a part of the team. That said, he always had an eye for shiny things, so he will put in for a gemstone or two. Perhaps he will embed his staff with a diamond or two?” he smiled at the ridiculous thought of making a piece of steel-reinforced wood a widely embellished treasure. “This one does agree with Sadri, of course. It would be hard to conceal our spoils without arousing suspicion, and besides, we are not pirates.” he glanced towards the door where others were still gathered. “Do’Karth dares say some earned their share more than he did.”