[i]A Schafty collaboration[/i]
[hr]
The journalist was wounded. That wasn't all too surprising to Jorwen. For all the things that could be said of bringing a man of his size along, he still knew how to creep through the bush like a predator. He had his doubts Maduras would last any considerable length of time, even less so if it got too bloody, and this mishap, while he felt bad for the Dunmer, was fortunately timed early enough into the trip to have the man sent back to camp. Why they'd bring a journalist with no experience was beyond him, but as the Dunmer started to shake and for the ragged breaths to come smoking out on the night air in tiny puffs, he could see why the journalist should stay well away from anywhere he might have the chance of seeing his own blood. Two of the scouts volunteered to take him back to camp and only to add to the case against him, he none too quietly half-whispered, "Good luck!"

Jorwen shook his head. He looked to Keegan and the others and they all seemed seasoned experts against Maduras' first impressions. Not so much as a peep out of a lot of them. Once Daelin got his boots back on the trail, they went back to following the clear tracks the men had left. It was suspiciously easy to follow, easy enough that Jorwen and another one of the scouts kept their eyes and ears wide open for an ambush. None came, thankfully, though not for a lack of imagined faces in the dark, every whisper of wind-shaken leaves a Reachman's signal to his fellows. Finally Daelin held his hand up for them to stop and waved them over to him. His lithe fingers traced the spot where the dragging stopped, leaving only footprints. "You think they slit his throat and dumped him?"

"No blood. They probably picked him up. Two sets of tracks," his four fingers splayed out to the darkness and a look on his face as if he was divining secrets from the dirt itself rather than just looking at some bootprints, "One set's bigger, deeper than the other one."

"One big man, one small. But two men is all." One of the scouts in the back smiled. "Clumsy and careless, then."

Daelin shook his head, "Could be more at their camp. We'll follow on and find out." And they continued on. It was a while, felt even longer with the silence before they came to a clearing, where Daelin motioned for them to gather in a circle. They'd stopped after Jorwen and Daelin picked up men's voices being blown in from somewhere close. The tracks also went off the path and deeper into the bush, likely where the camp was. The man sent to check came back and nodded, holding his hand up and splayed out to say five men. "Three men. Three men to go down there first while I take the rest and put us in position. Who goes?"

Keegan wanted to go back, and he really emphasized on that when he volunteered to escort Maduras. His place is not in a fight, or any type of life-risking conflicts. He's not sure if he could actually be useful when the time comes, or would he simple get in the way of others.  

Daelin wasn't having any of it though, he told Keegan they needed a mage along, in case the Forsworn had an arcane card up their sleeves. In his place were two scouts he hasn't known too much about. Farid hauling back an immobilized Maduras only compounded on existing fear. Farid didn't show an inch of fear with his expressions, but merely a smug look that spoke of “I told you so” to the journalist.

For the second time, they were on the trail following this dragged man. Jorwen was in the lead, and Farid had fallen back with him and the Argonian. At least that was the case for only a short while. The Bosmer and the Nord stopped, which meant the tracks did too, somewhat. Keegan listened intently as they discussed tracks. It was important apparently, because even Farid was quietly observing. Then Farid shook his head and smiled, declaring the kidnappers clumsy and careless.  

“What could they possibly be doing with him?” Keegan asked, wondering if it was only easy because they were walking into a trap. His staff was in-hand the entire time, and despite having a weapon at the ready, he still felt less certain as ever. “Perhaps they are baiting us?” He addressed Utu-ja too.

Utu-ja didn't do more than slightly tipping his head. Farid answered; he always did. “Could be,” He said softly, not making himself too audible. “Or could be them getting sloppy. Either way, we kill them sooner or later.”

And it was certainly sooner than later. They stopped near a clearing, and Daelin claimed he spotted enemy activities. They huddled around a circle and planned while watching each others' breathes exhaled into the Reach wind. Keegan didn't like it; he didn't like pushing into the wilderness and he definitely did not like the implications heard from the faint voices of unknown men.

“Me.” Utu-ja hissed, marking the first time he spoke this evening. His tail twitched and clawed hands eagerly cradling the polished elven bow.

“Myself and the Red-Bear as well, unless he decides to run the other way.” Farid piped in, eying Jorwen with a teasing glance and waiting for Daelin's approval. He sounded a little too confident for the impending fight. But Keegan was glad to let it slip for this once, for he would be much better with Daelin, in the back and further away from melee.       

"I'll go." Jorwen nodded grimly, taking his shield off of his back and unsheathing his longseax. Not a glance cast Farid's way until he spoke again, "Wouldn't want the children wandering in the dark alone."

Again, Farid chuckled. It was always good to laugh before a fight, took some of the edge off. That being said, he looked sidelong at Keegan and he looked no better for the quiet chuckles and smiles going around. "Got to have fear to have courage, elf." He leaned closer and smiled, "I'm close to pissing, myself, truth be told." he clapped Keegan on the shoulder and they moved out, Jorwen taking the lead. It wasn't long before they were close to the fire. They could see the shapes silhouetted against it and they weren't being too kind to Caileach. He wasn't expecting them to, of course. They crept closer to the fire, Jorwen wondered if Daelin and his lot had gotten to their positions yet. He crept closer still and hoped Utu-ja was in the bush with an arrow nocked. He was close enough to make out the curves and blue paint of the man's face as he tore into the heel of bread in his hands.

He brought out his knife and hid the blade against him and among his beard to keep it from glinting in the moonlight or the fire. Now, his arm lanced out, fast as a snake and buried the heavy blade of the knife into the man's forehead. All he did was let out a long croak before going cross-eyed. Jorwen yanked his blade out with a sickening wet crack and Farid exploded from the darkness with an ear-splitting yell, stabbing a man through the neck and slicing through one's leg before sticking his blade poking out of the front of the Reachman's throat. Another rose from the fire, dropping his meat and going for his sword. He didn't get far before an arrow thumped into his eye. A good shot, but he couldn't tell who it was from. Supposed it didn't matter. He raised his shield and sent a blade glancing off of it. He punched out with the rim and caught the Reachman in his throat. He stumbled back and he stuck the longseax through the man's ribs and into his heart. Quick and clean. Only one left and he was on his knees beside Caileach.

The lad might have gotten a little overzealous with a lie and earned their ire. Mercy wasn't something Reachmen were known for, if the wounded coming from the front and passing through their camp wasn't evidence enough.

The clearing was a perfect target from the treeline. With a fire in the middle, the enemies would be hard-pressed to find their attackers. Plus, they have the element of surprise, which means if one scout dispatched one Forsworn immediately, this fight would be over before it starts. Bolstered slightly by Jorwen's comment, and loosened up just a bit from the banter between Jorwen and Farid, Keegan followed tightly after Daelin. They were led halfway around the clearing outskirts, where a fallen tree provided decent cover and naught obstructed their sight line on the enemy fighters.  

From their established position, Keegan could already see Jorwen and Farid tearing through armor and flesh. They were so fast that in the time it took them to position, two out of five already fell on the ground. Daelin made haste to align an arrow onto a Reachman trying to grab weapons, but another shot by Utu-ja found the same mark beforehand. Red fluid rushed out of the metal embedded eye-socket, and the Forsworn collapsed extremely close to the fire, which even lit his fur armor ablaze. Only two more now, one of them had recovered enough and advanced rapidly on Jorwen. Distance between friend and foe disappeared suddenly, and they were too much near for Daelin to safely attack. Instead, he let loose an arrow to the side of Jorwen's opponent. It whooshed by, momentarily distracting the Reachmen and giving Jorwen time to deflect incoming blows.  

Only one left, or so they thought. Out from the vegetation across to Daelin and Keegan, a Forsworn busted out with dagger drawn. If one payed attention that moment, they would notice his trousers were not properly buttoned, and with even closer examination, feces could still been seen leaking out of his rear. In short, this new arrival was defecating in the woods when his comrades came under attack.  

Utu-ja was by far the closest one to this new arrival. His location camouflaged rather well against men around the fire, but to the sixth Forsworn, it was in plain sight. The Argonian heard rushed steps at the last moment, just as dagger flew towards his head. There was no time to dodge, not directly from shooting position and surroundings tangled by branches. So Utu raised his bow in defense, putting the elven alloy between himself and the blade. As expected, his bow missed the dagger, but it did propped against the Forsworn's wrist and halted the stab, to an extent. The dagger still pierced through Utu-ja's bracer and into his scales. Still, not blocking would have it stuck in much further.

The common reaction for the Argonian would be pushing back, but that would be exactly what his foe readied for. On the contrary, Utu simply allowed himself to fall backwards, and in the same instance, tilting the Forsworn forward too and making him lose balance. Right before Utu-ja tumbled over, he swung his tail to the opposite direction and brought himself back to balance. At the same time, the Reachmen stumbled, straight into an uplifting knee. With his enemy disoriented and clutching his stomach, Utu began delivering knife thrusts like he was gutting wild game. 

"Ugh!" The Argonian groaned as he sent the last blow home. There were human wastes dripping on his trousers and boots; he hated that, he hated the foul fumes that came with the worst parts of humanity. It gave him motivation to add in an extra jab or two.

Opposite to Utu-ja, Daelin had another arrow notched and ready to let fly. This one was trained on the last Forsworn kneeling beside the captured bard. It would be moderately dangerous for Felix, but Daelin was sure this one would strike true.

“Hold a second,” Keegan suddenly interrupted. Thus far, he had done nothing but observe. What if he could do something useful? What if they could capture an enemy for interrogation. After all, they had done such thing to Felix; why not repay the favor? “I can paralyze him, let me do it.”

“What are you waiting for, then?” Daelin returned. His aim did not change, if Keegan failed to put his target down, the arrow would have to finish what it originally intended to do. The spell did hit, and it paralyzed the man before he saw it coming. Keegan breathed a sigh of relief; that wasn't so bad.

After they defeated the last foe in sight, Daelin held cover for several seconds, he scanned and clearing and only came out after ensuring no more surprises would jump on them. He called for the group to rally again, and asked if anyone took any injuries. Utu-ja said nothing at first; he did not want to disappoint his boss. But when Daelin noticed an entry on his forearm, and suspicious green liquid around it, he knew the Argonian had been poisoned.
        
"It's fine." Utu-ja hissed. Waving the concerns away with the injured arm. "Argonian's are resistant."
        
"I have a potion, anti-disease potion." Keegan said. He searched through his bag, finding the bottle he kept for those rare assassination attempts. Utu-ja paused and looked at it intently, as  if he was deciding the lesser evil; whether he would drink it or just grin and bear it. He settled on the first, but only taking a short swig and leaving at least half for Keegan.

They'd dragged the man all the way back to their little hideout in the clearing. Jorwen had kicked dirt over the fire, scattered the embers and sticks while Farid hid the bodies and took their supplies. If anyone came searching for their friends, they'd find nothing, and that was bound to get them talking. Jorwen had too many years to count behind him that said it's what the enemy thinks of you that demoralizes him most, sometimes not what he sees of you. There was a reason they called him Red-Bear, not just because of the color of his hair. He sat across from the Reachman as he came to. He had his knives laid out before him and scraping the last of them on a whetstone. They'd made the man watch Jorwen sharpen each knife, none of them saying anything at all while he did it. Jorwen could see when the paralyzing spell had worn off as the man slowly unfurled like a frostbite spider from hibernation, limbs loosening and he took in a heaving breath. As hard and mean as they all looked now, Jorwen wouldn't fancy being him. "Tell us about the redoubt."

The Reachman didn't answer. Jorwen didn't say a thing but Farid and Daelin stepped out of the shadows and grabbed the Reachman by his shoulders and Jorwen let one of his knives glint in the moonlight. The Reachman opened his mouth and Jorwen cuffed the words back down his throat. He went to speak again but Daelin kneed him in the gut. "I tell you when to speak." Jorwen grumbled. "So speak."

"There's a cave that leads right to the leaders'  chambers. I can lead you there." He said.

"Where is it?" Farid hissed in his ear.

"It's up me fuckin' arse." The Reachman cracked an ugly, gap-toothed grin before it was wrenched away as Jorwen grabbed him by his hair and mashed his face into the dirt.

"Bring me a bodkin." Jorwen said, looking up at Daelin and the elf nodded, returning with the needle point off one of his shafts. He looked back down at the Reachman, "You spoke out of turn."

He wedged the tip of the bodkin between the fingernail of the man's thumb. He didn't have to push it even a quarter inch before Farid slapped a hand over his screeching mouth. The Legion teaches you about interrogating a man, especially in a bush war the likes Jorwen was used to fighting. But he didn't learn this from a legionnaire. You also learn a lot about interrogation being a prisoner of the Dominion, even if only a few weeks. "I can give you a few more gaps in your teeth."

"Who are you?" The Reachman asked.

"Does it matter?" Jorwen asked. "Is there a password to get into the redoubt?"

"All that matters is you are a pest, in our Reach." The Reachman spat, quite literally and sending blood and spit straight towards Jorwen's eyes. "Not even in your wildest dreams. To Oblivion with you!"
        
Keegan, who had thus far been spectating from a good distance away noticed the escalation in interrogation. He himself, like Jorwen, was once victim to brutal interrogation. If there was one thing he learned, it was that the prisoners either broke fast or never broke until death. The situation at hand is steering towards the latter, which would be not quite a productive use of time. He could let Daelin, Farid and Jorwen beat another hundred shades of blue out of the Reachman, but he somehow knew that they would soon be beating a dead horse, or a dead man, more accurately. It looked like Daelin was right when he insisted Keegan to be accompanying them; it was time to work to his magic again.
        
While Jorwen recovered from bloody spit in his eyes, Farid already lashed out from the side. The Redguard lad let out a backhand strike, and then another, both messing up an already deranged face. "Stop, Stop!" Keegan entered and waved. "This is clearly not working. I can try something different."
        
"You heard him," Daelin ordered. His hand firmly grasping Farid's forearm, and despite how much Farid struggled for another hit, Daelin's vice-like grip never relented. "Give Keegan a chance."
        
"If you say so." Farid said. He put his arms in dismissal, turned and walked back to where Utu-ja crouched. "Switch up, time for your fun." He told the Argonian, who had been guarding the semi-conscious bard and the path leading up to their location. The two exchanged a fast stare and Utu stood up without a word. He tread back just in time to see Keegan waving a charm spell in his palm.
        
"You will tell us everything you know." Keegan commanded the Forsworn as his hand waved in an arc between them. 
        
The Forsworn laughed, but it was bitter and struggled laughter. He did not seem affected by the spell, but at least he wasn't resisting with ease. "No, I will not." He coughed.
        
"You will obey now." Keegan waved again. This time it was an even wider arc and he channeled all the magicka he could muster; his right hand even glowed bright cyan. Magicka seeped from his skin to the Forsworn, and their surrounding glowed from the radiation of magical excess. The Reachman's pupils grew wide, his muscles tensed to the extreme and then loosened, along with his eyeballs rolling back.
        
"What is happening?" Daelin asked. Keegan simply shrugged, his head pounded after concentrating so intensely and his vision blurred. "Wake up, speak!" Daelin yanked the Forsworn by his neck, shaking the dizziness from him. It worked, the Forsworn opened his eyelids again, and his eyeballs portrayed hazy defocus on nowhere.
        
"Tell us about the redoubt." Keegan commanded once more. "Tell us everything."
        
"I, I, won-" The Forsworn stammered, but he clearly could not hold back magically altered thoughts any longer. His will dissolved and his voice turned from anger to a mindless drone. "I will tell you everything." And so, monotone sentences spilled from his tongue, it told of guard patterns, defensive positions and certain weapons placements. But it lacked any major details, nothing close to pass codes or tactics or the grand schemes of those who ran the redoubt. After blabbing on for several minutes, the Reachman's voice slurred, bubbles rose from his throat and he passed out.
        
"Anything good out of him?" Farid came in as he rejoined the others. He was calmer now, though it was as calm as the fiery lad could be. Not far behind, Felix was regaining much of his bearing, and the bard even insisted he could watch the path by himself.

"Not exactly," Daelin answered. "He's probably just another pawn. Keegan found a couple of useful tips, but nothing groundbreaking."
                
"What are we going to do with him now?" When Farid and everyone else turned to look at him, Keegan pointed to their prisoner, who was now out cold on the dirt. 
     
"Jorwen?" Daelin said, he brought their attention to the Nord. Since Keegan was attempting was to coerce the prisoner's mind, Jorwen had been left out of action. It was so easy to forget that he was the one being spat upon. "You are the insulted party here, you should decide his fate."

Jorwen had gotten blood on every conceivable inch of him at one point or another. A lifetime of war will do that to a man. He'd also been spat on and been the one doing the spitting at one time or another. He wasn't fazed in the slightest when the Reachman spit in his face. Truth be told, he'd do the same thing, but when they all turned to look at him, he looked at each of them in turn. His face was hard, he tried to be a fair man, a good man in everything he did. But this was war, and war doesn't need good men, men who smiled and patched up their daughter's skirts or a loving wife's sleeve. It just needs killers, men who killed in the dead of night, killed men sleeping, killed men awake. Cold men. So he looked back at the Reachman whose face was shifting back into the same face they'd all seen back at the fire. The face belonging to a man who could hate anything and everything. His eyes settled on Jorwen and Jorwen stared back. Farid unsheathed his dagger and started walking toward the man before Jorwen's big hand draped over his shoulder, not squeezing at all but holding him like iron anyways. "This ain't for you, killing a man tied up." Jorwen said.

The Reachman heard that and he started struggling to get away even though his ankles were bound too, he'd found. "Give me a blade! What's the matter, you afraid to face me? You twig-thin milk-drin-" And Jorwen's seax had tore through his skull before he could finish.

"We're wasting moons' light. Let's get a move on." Jorwen said, cleaning his blade on the dead man's shirt. They disappeared back into the bush to return their findings. Hopefully it'd help.

"Indeed we should." Daelin agreed. Giving the dead corpse a nonchalant looks and leading out with Jorwen. There was no point covering up this body, as the main attack would happen before the other Reachmen found it. "We shall survey the creek before returning." 

Keegan fell behind the group as always, except this time he lagged back further than usual. He couldn't help but feel disgusted at how Jorwen executed their prisoner. Paralyzing the Forsworn from the start gave Keegan some strands of hope that they will spare the man, sparing their enemy. How unrealistic, now he thought about it; blind mercy has no place on the battlefield. He wished he could be more like Farid, who only admired Jorwen's swift death dealing.

The creek had nothing significant, not too far from theory and not too complicated to deal with. Zero difficulty was encountered saved for Farid nearing tripping a hunting snare and Keegan almost spraining his ankle on a peculiar tree root. Daelin had walked several circles on their side of the water, and he then requested Keegan to perform detect life spells. There were no lifeforms, or at least, none they could sense within range. Utu-ja studied water depth; uttering something along the line of "even midgets could hardly drown". The lead scout believed him, and that trust was enough to persuade him against crossing over. Plus, Masser and Secunda were in the later part of their arcs now. They spent enough hours as it is; it's time to brief Ashav and his subordinates.

By the time the scouts arrived back in camp, the makeshift moondial Edith constructed read no more than one hour before their primary offensive. Daelin took his scouts to Ashav, who had already geared up with all of his equipment. He told Daelin and his scouts to remain with him in the camp during the main assault. The five them would serve as Ashav's command staff and runners, they would be sounding a giant warhorn that could signal retreat across the valley. This would be somewhat of a rest for them, while others risked their lives on the frontline. 

"Put us back out there, we could still make a difference." Farid protested. He seemed to have an endless apetite for combat. Keegan frowned, the Altmer dissagreed wholeheartedly, he just couldn't comprehend certain individual choosing a bloody fight over warm tents.

"No." Ashav told them. "That part of your work is finished, what is upcoming for you is equally as important." 

After everything, they finally got one hour free time. They saw Maduras near Ashav's tent, his leg wrapped in thick linen and a healer weaved restoring energy around him. Daelin also led Felix to the same place, where the healer started examining the bard as well.

"Well," Farid said, grinning softly to Jorwen and Keegan. "At least nobody died, yet."