[I]Hegathe, Prisoner’s Block…[/I]

“Zave-” Came the cut off cry from somewhere above, momentarily capturing Zaveed’s attention long enough to have his guard falter just enough to have the narrow edge of the scimitar bite along his arm. The khajiit hissed out in surprise and anger, half at himself and at the man who had the audacity to lay steel to him, and to whomever had caused Reigenleif to cry out to him. She wouldn’t have done that unless she were in trouble.

He wasn’t losing another person he cared for, not to oppressive, faceless bastards. Imperial Praetorians or dwemer employed city guards, both were not going to exact their tolls on him. He’d served his life faithfully to another man’s cause, 21 of the past 23 years in the crew of a corsair captain who had abducted him as a child and forced him into service. What had once been pride in his identity, a dashing brigand who answered to no one had become more and more jaded the further he got away from that old crew and aspects of his former life came seeping in like a leak in the bulkhead. The friends he had met in the two years since the [I]Iron Reaper[/I] sunk beneath the Eastmarch waves had been truer companions and lovers than any he had ever known. He would die for any one of them.

He would also kill.

Bellowing out in rage, Zaveed pressed the attack on his assailants, forcing the man who had cut him back in a flurry of blows, his two blades outpacing his one. The jovial defensive fighter gave way to a feral, aggressive and hateful khajiit who wanted nothing more than for this man to die bleeding out in several pieces. The man tried to counter back with a well-timed thrust, exposing his arm. Zaveed’s short sword lashed out, parrying the blow across the Redguard’s torso, and Zaveed’s dagger plunged into the now exposed arm. The guard cried out in pain, especially as Zaveed removed the dagger and swept the man across the thighs with his sword, cutting deeply into his exposed flesh. He turned to raise his sword in defence to go after his second foe only to find a group of prisoners, armed with weapons from what had to have been the warren’s office, unleashing fury upon the hapless guard, taking out weeks, if not months, of abuse out on the man in a flurry of hasty, poorly timed blows. Zaveed took the opportunity to drive the point of his sword through the back of the guard’s knees, leaving him at the mercy of his former prisoners. He noticed others running around the catwalks, hastily unlocking cells and handing weapons off to the fittest of the guards. Eleyna had done her job well, then. Zaveed didn’t even spare his first foe a glance as his sword lashed out, removing the man’s head. 

The khajiit bounded up the steps to the landing, heedless of the blood running down his arm. He found Eleyna tending to Reigenleif’s wounds, the Nord prone with her eyes shut. “No, no, no…” Zaveed said, hurrying to her side and lifting her back up into a semi-sitting position, his other arm across her torso. He could hear her breathing, but it didn’t look good. He looked desperately at Eleyna. “We need to get her to help. Now.” He said, lifting the Nord woman in his arms. He spoke to her prone form, trying to be reassuring without knowing if she could hear them. “You can’t die. We’d only just met.” He chuckled weakly, looking towards the stairwell ascending to the daylight above. “I’m not letting you die because I led you to this piece of shit city. I’ve taken many things, but your life will not be one of them. Please… do not let go.” He pleaded, standing and looking back at the assembling prisoners. “There’s no time to waste!” He shouted down at them. “What you do with your liberty is your own accord, but unless you arm yourselves now and act, then they will storm down here and kill all of us! We risked our lives for you, do us the same kindness and help us escape. It is up to you all to fight and rise up against these bastards, to reclaim your lives! Set this damn city on fire!” 

The prisoners roared back affirmation, vengeance in their hearts. Soon, a few more who had no weapons were collecting them and armour from the fallen guards, and the group gathered at the base of the stairwell, 12 in all. They clearly weren’t numbered by capacity, as it turned out. An older looking Nord approached the trio with a respectful nod. “You’ve done us a great kindness, the three of you. I don’t know who you are, but your efforts will not go to waste. I promise. Word of what you have done will spread, I will see to that myself.” He paused. “What shall we call you?”

“Zaveed, Eleyna, and Reigenleif.” The khajiit said. Whether or not he was taking a chance on revealing their names to the man mattered little at that point; honesty met loyalty quite often. The man nodded and smiled. “Nice names for nice people. I should like to see you all again, after this is done.” He gestured to himself. “Torir.” The Nord turned to the others, his voice booming like a seasoned officer. “Alright, you bastards! We were locked up and treated worse than dogs, and we’ve been given our damn chance to show them that we’ll fight like Talos-damned dogs. I don’t know about you, but I think these dwemer-fucking shits need to learn that their masters can’t save them! Rise up! Rise up and reclaim what is yours! We’re taking our fucking city back!” he bellowed, ending with a fierce Nordic war cry. The other prisoners, including those who looked so infirm they could not walk, roared out in a cheer that was positively deafening in the enclosed caverns of the prison. It most have sounded terrifying to anyone who might have been waiting above, like the gates of Oblivion had opened and Mehrunes Dagon himself was coming for them. The Nord took position at the front, giving Zaveed one final nod. “If we should go to Sovngard today, brothers and sisters, the first round is on me! [I]FORWARD![/I]” he bellowed, charging up the stone steps and out of sight. Most of the others were right at his heels. 

A group of six remained, walking over to the group. The chatted quickly among themselves before a nod of agreement went out. “We’ll keep you safe and hopefully keep some attention off you if you run into troubles. We’re not really fighters, but well… first time for everything, right? I’d rather die free than at the Governor’s amusement.”
As the group headed up the stairs, Zaveed walking sideways to keep Reigenleif from hitting her head on the narrow passage, the sounds of battle loomed up ahead. As they reached the cottage’s main floor, bodies already lay across the floor, a few of the prisoners among them, but surprisingly most of the casualties were the guards, who seemed to be pushed back by a deceptively well-equipped group of prisoners who outnumbered the reinforcements. Zaveed briefly caught a glimpse of the Nord he had spoken to caving in a man’s skull with laughter before he moved out of sight. He turned to Eleyna and the others. 

“Shall we?”