Upon re-entering the warm building of the inn, Rhasha'Dar did not do much but drink and feast with his refound friend of Sylvanis. Just like the night before, she drank too much, and he was soon coaxing her away from brawls with the native Nords, finally able to get some sleep himself after she passed out in her own bed. 

"I do hope tomorrow brings peace." Rhasha muttered to himself as he collapsed into the straw bed. 

However, just as the moons predicted - there was no peace to be found during dawn.

Surprisingly, it was Sylvanis who burst into Rhasha's room to awake him - even despite her hangovers, she was a lighter sleeper than he. 

"Wake up, you damned furball! Battle awaits us outside!" She yelled, throwing clothes at her very startled Khajiiti friend, as he struggled from his bed. Cries and bells tolling could be heard from outdoors, and Rhasha swiftly dressed himself, hurrying outside with Sylva.

"What foolish warriors would attack here?" Rhasha wondered aloud as he and Sylva followed the crowd of mercenaries and soldiers along the streets.

"Obviously suicidal ones who wish to meet their Gods!" Sylvanis growled, hefting her immense hammer over her shoulder. 

However, as they ran, Rhasha jarred to a halt, ears suddenly pricked back in a fleeting moment of horror.

Azurah have mercy... The caravan is still outside the gates! He suddenly thought. And yet, the crowds were flocking towards the docks, not the bridge. That meant landing parties... Surely whomever these attackers were, wouldn't be so idiotic as to land by the bridge, where the caravan lay? It was far too well protected...

Sylvanis looked at him expectantly, the crowd of people rushing around them like water over rocks.

"Rhasha, the caravan can look after itself - knowing your superstitious elders, they up and left as soon as they saw those bloody moons last night." She said, an impatient tone to her words; and yet, she was correct.

Right now, he had to worry about aiding his comrades on the dock. 

"Let us continue, then. My spear hasn't tasted blood in too long." He said grimly, and the pair continued on, hoping to find more of their group; both for information, and the liklihood of strength in numbers.

~~~

Meanwhile at the docks

Of all the experiences Do'Karth could claim to have notched on his belt over his years, standing in battle formations waiting for an unknown invading force to make landfall fell short of the realm of things he could claim to be knowledgeable of. Duels against aggravated former suitors of various women, yes. Fending off the machinations of ill-reputable highway men, who hadn't? Multiple foes hardly phased the khajiit, and he was more than confident in his ability to make short of any man.

When the warships began to crash  upon the docks, turning the aged, waterlogged wood into splinters against the irresistible force of the reinforced vessels and disembark their passengers, Do’Karth’s confidence faltered somewhat. Behind routine frost atronachs came large beasts garbed in heavy armour that was as ugly, heavy and practical as those that adorned their ships, looking like living towers more than anything that could be considered people. Their stature was impressive enough to put the Cathay-Raht to shame, and they towered over all others in Tamriel. The khajiit frowned from behind rows of other mercenaries as the battle was joined, wondering if perhaps signing that contract had been a mistake.

It didn’t take long for the lines to break, along with many of the bodies that manned them. Where the docks had only moments before been crowded and comforting in the face of these Daedric-looking invaders, they now were a chaotic mess of death and fear, the sharp coppery scent of several men’s blood filling the air as Do-Karth waited for the attackers to reach him. He was in no hurry to meet them; their brutal onslaught had gone through men and women alike with such brutal efficiency that even if he could reach them safely, there simply wasn’t a body to save. The devastation on the defenders’ bodies was absolute and repugnant. However, there wasn’t much of a choice of avoiding the fight, even if he wasn’t one of the vanguard fighters who paid the ultimate cost against a foe they could not resist; lumbering towards him like a glacier come to life was one of the hulking frost atronachs that had broken the lines. Having room to move, Do’Karth began to put his body into motion, rotating his quarterstaff to build momentum for when he had an opening to strike as he studied his opponent.

Atronachs were simple things, really; simple Daedric constructs summoned to Mundus via conjuration that had never demonstrated anything in the way of creativity or even thought; they simply were as artificial as they appeared, an instrument to fight and little more. As a heavy club-like arm swung to crash into Do’Karth, he flipped into a handless cartwheel to avoid the certainly fatal blow and paid little mind to the loud crack of the wood stressing under the blow as he righted himself and brought his staff into a wide arc, bringing the hardwood shaft into what was equivalent to the back of the creature’s knee, rewarding the khajiit with a glittering shower of ice shards that had broken free from the impact, much to his satisfaction. It was far too thick to break outright, it was true, but with several more precise strikes, a crack would form and possibly cripple the artonach.

Maybe.

Ducking under a skewering limb, Do’Karth responded in kind by driving the end of his staff into the spot he had begun to work on, and bringing it back and around his back struck again with a heavy strike, breaking free a large enough fragment to give credence to Do’Karth’s efforts. Much to his relief, a few of the other mercenaries near his position moved in, overwhelming the atronach’s efforts with a concentrated attack. It was a burly Imperial with a well-pitted warhammer that delivered the blow that brought the construct down, the concentrated metal breaking into the weakened ice like a pickaxe striking iron free of a deposit and it collapsed, the leg shattered, into the icy waters where it sunk into the depths, behaving rather unlike something one would expect to be constructed of ice to behave as it disappeared from sight.

Victory was short-lived, however, and even before the water had settled, the invaders proper joined the fray. Do’Karth stared upwards towards what the others had begun to call a giant and he tried to look upon the face of the brute, but it was concealed behind an alloy of unknown composition.

“By the Twin Moons, you are hideous.” He said, spinning his staff around as skillfully and quickly as he could to buy himself some room, which was almost hilariously reduced by the sure size of his adversary, whose reach along with the mace that remained clutched in a club-like hand was nearly that off the quarterstaff. It did not seem deterred by the prospect of getting struck what amounted to a glorified piece of lumber. When the giant raised its horrible flanged mace to strike, the khajiit proved quicker to the draw and managed a strike against its helm, letting loose a loud clang. The giant recoiled before recomposing itself and glaring down at Do’Karth with a guttural growl quite unlike anything he had ever heard before, but the intent was unmistakably familiar.

“This one is sorry, Do’Karth swears that wasn’t what it looked like!” He said, jumping back to avoid retribution. The heavy metal footfalls that followed seemed rather determined to even the score.

~~~

The Dock Gates

"I'm telling you to open the fucking gates!" She screamed into the guardsman's helmet. His eyes behind the visor of his helm stared obstinately ahead and only served to feed the fire in her breast. He hadn't answered her the past few times she'd asked and it left her and the man who introduced himself as Cleftjaw standing outside of the battle like a couple of fools who were late to muster. She'd made sure her mother was safe and now was trying to get out there and make sure her father was safe. As safe as one could be in the middle of a battle.

"You asked him politely and he didn't do it." Cleftjaw stood well behind her, examining his fingernails and picked a bit of dirt out of one, "Yelling at him isn't going to help you."

"I will break you, little man." She turned her ire from the guard to Cleftjaw, who she didn't get along with earlier and their relationship had not been getting any better in the half-hour they'd known each other, especially with that arrogant fucking smirk of his. Like he'd heard a joke she just hadn't got. From behind, she saw a little Bosmer clad in armor that looked too big for her, almost comically so, and a Khajiit with her. She was always uncomfortable around those Bosmer. Shifty-eyed and apt to disappear on a whim. The big hammer over her shoulder and the armor told her all she needed to know about that one though, no disappearing acts. And she'd only ever met one Khajiit. Tried to take her knife because she left it on the tavern table for more than five seconds. "You! Are you trying to get to the other side of this gate? Good fucking luck to you. I'm going to find another way."

~~~

"Oh, perfect. This is the last thing I needed." Sylvanis muttered under her breath as she and Rhasha approached the gates to the Dock. All that stood before them were two fellow mercenaries, one guard, and... closed gates. The clashing of metal upon metal and the screams of the dying could be heard from the other side, yet the guard made no  haste to open the gates. 

Despite Sylva's energetic exterior, she still had a thumping headache and a mouth drier than a Redguard's sandal from the night before. As such, her mood was a foul one, and her expression showed that. It appeared to be fiercer than the Nord woman's before them - as such, Rhasha stepped in before someone met a nasty end at the bottom of Sylva's hammer.

"Why are the gates remaining closed? Do you not hear them out there? They need aid." Rhasha directed his attention almost immediately towards the guard. He watched on silently, but Rhasha was quick to notice the eyes hidden within the helmet had narrowed - either in scorn or anger, he didn't know. But it was likely due to his race. It usually was. He still did not answer.

"A stubborn Nord, yes? This one is not surprised." 

"Rhasha, just shove him out of the way!"

"Try it, furball. I'll skin you and hang you on my wall." The Guard finally broke his silence and hissed out the threat - which was unsurprisingly a racist and not that inventive one. Drawing his blade, he glared at the four of them there, ready to fight them if he had to.

Sighing, Rhasha'Dar twirled his spear almost casually, with the head now pointing towards the ground.

"Sylva - talking will get us nowhere, nor will killing." He said, his tone obviously making it an order to stand down, and not a casual suggestion. 

Looking back to his Nordic companions, he inclined his head in greeting.

"This one is Rhasha'Dar - perhaps we can find a way over together, yes?"

Solveig glared into the eyes of the guard and he glared back. "Jarl's orders."

"Shit on it, then." Solveig spat dangerously close to the guardsman's boots and stalked off towards the other two warriors, Cleftjaw in tow, humming some song. "Come."

They traipsed all around the empty streets of Windhelm, looking for something to help them get on the other side of the wall. Solveig hadn't given them her name and Cleftjaw stayed silent between his quiet humming or whistling of some tune. She found the Bosmer one even more unlikable than Vurwe, what with her constant scowling and eye-narrowing whenever she caught her eye. Heavy armor, big hammer, oh she'd be slow. Too slow. It might have been this morning's events, but she had an urge to split her arrogant face with her spear. They settled for climbing the steps up to the battlements, where archers fired down mostly ineffective arrows. Solveig looked down at the battle, dead and dying men were strewn about while the shrinking lines inched back and forth like waves on the beach, but never making it far enough forward to gain ground. What was more, looking at the enemies they were facing gave her more than a bit of apprehension. She could see now why the guardsmen had orders to keep the gate closed. She would've too. "What are those, overgrown trolls?" Solveig muttered to herself.

"I'm not sure I'll be much use at the front." Cleftjaw said, his shield on his back and his spear leaning on his shoulder, head still in its oil-cloth. "There." He pointed, and there was a cart still attached to a dead mule, the cart filled to spilling with hay.

"Reckon we could jump down into that." Solveig turned to the Khajiit beside her and shrugged, then to the Bosmer. Maybe she'd hit her head so hard she'd shit herself. Give her a reason to scowl all the time. "You're welcome to follow."

She made her way over and she and Cleftjaw peered down. It looked like a long fall, but she shook her head, her whole damn life was just one long fall she survived only because she'd caught a few scraggly roots or slick handholds. This shouldn't be any different, a sort of baptism. Her first open battle. All she needed to do was jump. "All you need to do is jump, you know." Came Cleftjaw's voice.

She grabbed the man by his cloak with bared teeth and fierce eyes before hauling him over, whooping. Thankfully, he landed in the cart, scrambling out and dusting himself off. She threw his spear down for him to catch and then followed, getting out of the cart in much the same manner. "I'll fucking kill you, you mad bitch."

"After the battle." She said, waving down the Khajiit and the Bosmer.

Sylvanis had two very good reasons to be scowling throughout their short trek in the city - one; being that Nordic brat darting bitter looks towards her, for no reason whatsoever. Two; The gates were all shut. Her mood only worsened as the four silently made their way towards the battlements.

"Of course - we have to climb up the fucking walls." She thought to herself, glowering ahead, gaze only becoming more intense as the Nord girl sent yet another dark look towards her. Had she been more childish, she would have stuck out her tongue at the woman; but as such, her temper flared at every look, and the girl's face was just looking more and more welcome to an introduction with Sylvanis' hammer.

As for Rhasha'Dar, his expression remained mainly neutral throughout the short journey. He was unperturbed by the lack of names from the Nords, nor by the silence that followed. In fact, he was most interested to find that the both of them carried spears - from what he'd seen, it wasn't a very common, nor favoured, weapon in Skyrim. From what he'd seen, Nords usually preferred to get truly down and dirty with a fight - getting as close to the carnage as possible. Therefore, the reach a spear gave could almost seem an annoyance in some people's eyes.

"Rhasha, I'm not fucking jumping down there." Sylvanis breathed furiously into his ear - she hadn't even approached the edge of the battlements, and already, she was shivering from the height at which she stood. The Khajiit sighed quietly, glancing down to see the Nord woman looking up at them expectantly.

"Come now Sylva - you've never backed down from a fight yet. Will you really let yourself be shown up now?"

"Not by that milk-drinker." She muttered in reply, slowly inching towards the edge of the battlement, peeking over, and then blanching immediately upon backing away. "Should still be sucking on her mother's teat." She added in a mutter, fear and fury mingling on her face as she closed her eyes.

Sighing once again, Rhasha'Dar swiftly realized that she wouldn't be able to jump on her own.

"Shurh. Don't kill me for this, yes?" Rhasha uttered quietly, and then pushed her from the ramparts. Thankfully, she was far too shocked to yell out as she fell, instead landing quite safely in the hay with a silent look of hatred at Rhasha. 

Shrugging innocently, he followed her down, the two now on their feet alongside their Nordic companions - and about to enter the fray.

"Sticking together seems wise. This one is not so keen in approaching the ice-giants single-handedly." He suggested, measuring his companions reactions carefully. As for Sylva - now that the fear of her heights was gone, she was itching to enter the fight as her bloodlust kicked in, hammer already in her hands.

The sound of rustling hay from behind Do'Karth barely registered with the khajiit as he was otherwise quite occupied with one of the many towering bastards that were harvesting through men like a scythe through wheat. He counted his fortunes that he was quite a nimble fighter with considerable stamina; it was something he'd been blessed with since birth, along with a hardy constitution that wasn't likely to do him many favours if the mace connected, other than perhaps brutally prolonging his life when death would be much preferable. The other mercenaries that had helped bring down the atronach were thinned out, including the Imperial who had dealt the killing blow. He simply was decapitated with an almost casual back swing of the ugly weapon, rendering his concerns no longer valid. 

The khajiit felt guilty, knowing that the further be backed towards the wall, the more of his comrades would perish as the giant reached them, but what choice did he have? Many of the giants had arrows sticking out of what should have been vital targets and the only thing that seemed to be working to any degree of effectiveness were the handful of mages that showered fire down upon them. He needed to get out of the battle and do something he could actually help with, tending the wounded. He frowned, ducking under another savage swing and landing strikes whenever an opening presented itself. Were these things alive, or were they simply Daedric abominations without minds and souls? Stopping them seemed like an impossible order, and he was all too aware of the mounting casualties. What had seemed like such a formidable company the night before now seemed like little more than a handful of desperate survivors hoping to survive.

"We need to get off of the docks, we cannot meet them on their terms!" he called out to no one in particular, jabbing the end of his staff towards the eye slit of his adversary and being rewarded with an angered grunt as it rang off steel. 

That doesn't seemed to have worked, Cat, she thought as her brow rose at the sight of what, a monk? A monk poking and prodding and dancing around these metal-wearing troll-men. She herself leapt back from a wild swing of the thing's weapon and barely dodged it as it tried to barrel over her. She felt the air from it rush past her as if she was standing next to a prized horse at full gallop. Cleftjaw's eyes went wide before he sidestepped and his spear shot out only to glance off the thing's cuirass. He swore loudly and ducked a massive limb. Solveig stepped forward and thrust her spear into the gap between its cuirass and its leg plate. It bit deep but the giant grunted as if it was a bee sting before turning to her. It roared and tried to smash her head to pulp with its mace, but she sidestepped it easily, whipping her spear about to smash it against the thing's helmet. Not hard enough to hurt it, as it whipped around quick enough and she almost tripped over her own feet at the surprising speed it swung its mace. It glanced her shield and the rim hit her in the face, split her top lip and only made her angrier.

She looked to the Bosmer with the big hammer and nodded to the big beast, "Be useful!"

In any other situation, Sylvanis would have shot back a sharp comment at the Nord girl - but already, she was gripped by the battle. The stench of sweat and blood filled her nose, screams and strange, unfamiliar roars from the creatures filling her head. Barely hearing her words, she let out a bellow of a war cry, hefting her hammer and letting the sheer momentum of it swing loose. Had it not been for her enchanted gauntlets, she wouldn't have even been able to keep a grip on her behemoth of a hammer.

However, her swing carried through, hitting the side of the enemy's knee with a dull 'clunk' sound. However, her hammer bounced back so harshly, it knocked her from her feet, and Sylvanis looked on in a horrified amazement as the giant simply roared in anger... the leg was still intact.

[i]"Fuck me. That swing would have taken out a mammoth."[/i] She thought to herself, still sat upon the floor as the giant raised its mace. Speed was not one of her better attributes. In fact, she valued strength so much, her speed definitely took a harsh hit.

However, she was not reduced to jelly by the giant's mace, as her saviour came in the form of a whirlwind of fur and metal - Rhasha. 

[i]"Stupid cat."[/i]

Having just risked her life by pushing her from a rather tall battlement, Rhasha had no intention to allow Sylva be crushed to death after having just one swing of her hammer. Unfortunately, she was known to under-estimate her foes; a foolish task, considering the mystery behind these invaders.

Thankfully, Rhasha was one to think things through - following the Nord woman's example, he launched himself at the enemy, hacking away at any jointed area that was left uncovered by armour with his axes; he was far too up close and personal to use his spear at the moment.

Being far faster than the giant, Rhasha was able to avoid most attacks from it - however, as always, luck does eventually run out. Rather than attempt to use it's weapon or go for a punch, it simply swatted at him as if he were a fly - and fly he did, backwards into the city walls with an unfortunate amount of force.

Looking on the bright side, it had been a light blow, compared to what he'd seen of the other injuries down here. Still, he was left with a semi-deep cut to his head from falling, just above his left eye - and likely some broken ribs.

Darting back to his feet, Rhasha winced as he raised one arm to cast a healing spell on himself, sides screaming in protest at every simple breath he took.

[i]"Yes... definitely broken."[/i]

"Sylva - hit the same leg again! I can see it limping." He hissed at his Bosmer friend, watching the giant's movements carefully. Despite the disappointing outcome of Sylvanis' first blow, it had indeed hurt the giant. Not only was the armour cracked around the right knee, but their foe was indeed favouring it's other leg as it rounded on the five of them.

"You'd better be correct, my furry friend." Sylvanis muttered dubiously, now on her feet and keeping a safe distance from the giant.

As Sylvanis went in for another attack, Rhasha joined her, hoping to distract the giant from what Sylvanis planned to do - if they got it to the floor, they could attack the weakest point of the neck with far more ease, killing it faster, and perhaps with less injuries

He only hoped the others followed suit...

The Khajiit with the spear was quick while her expectations of the Bosmer weren't too far from the truth of it. While the Bosmer went low, the Khajiit went high. Though, the Khajiit's attack fell flat as the giant moved its head to the side, the Khajiit's spear finding only open air. Before he could bring it back for another thrust, the giant grasped the haft of the spear in one huge fist and roared. Taken off guard by the Bosmer, her hammer dented in the giant's thigh plate and for a second the giant buckled under its own weight. Off balance, Solveig charged in and punched out with the rim of her shield, catching the giant in the back of the knee on the same buckling leg, making it fall to one knee. Before they could all charge in, it sprung forward surprisingly fast for all its bulk, gaining distance. It rolled, albeit a bit clumsily away and brought out a knife the size of Solveig's biggest at her hip, a shortsword in its own right. They stood opposite each other, the five of them. Solveig had Cleftjaw at her side, both their shields raised and spears sticking outwards. "Damn fucking thing." Solveig breathed, breath almost catching in her throat at all the excitement. She'd won 13 duels against some of the hardest men in Skyrim, but this was different, this was life or death. No yielding, no first blood. "How fares the monk?" She said to the robed Khajiit holding a staff, while she kept her eyes forward.

"A monk! If this one sees such a thing, he will tell you." Do'Karth exclaimed with forced enthusiasm, chancing a glance at the woman who had come to his aid. "Do'Karth remains unharmed, our friend is big, but slow." he paused, gesturing towards the giant's damaged leg with the end of his staff. "More so now. Friends, if you could keep him busy for a few moments, this one has an idea. A stupid idea, but nothing about today seems to be particularly smart. Do'Karth simply needs our friend to not pay attention while he get behind him. Could you manage this safely?" he asked.

"We can manage, but perhaps not safely." Rhasha'Dar replied to Do'Karth - surprised at seeing him, first of all. He had assumed that he would be the only Khajiit to join; not only that, but this fellow cat was a Suthay-Raht, like his twin siblings. A rarity, in Skyrim.

Keeping his distance from the giant, Rhasha began jabbing towards the joint of the other leg, hoping to weaken both so as to get it to the ground once and for all. As for Sylvanis, she bode her time before swinging her hammer upward towards the giant's head, clipping it under the jaw hard enough to hear something crack - whether it be bone, armour, or teeth, Sylvanis did not know - but it was a satisfying noise, nonetheless.

"Whatever you plan to do, hurry up - this one thinks the beast is losing it's temper with us." Rhasha'Dar added, ducking to avoid the knife as it swung towards him - uncomfortably close, as the wind whistled over his head, and the weapon ever so slightly brushed over his ears. [i]Too close.[/i]

The giant's swing went wide as Solveig feinted to the left, her spear lancing out but not quick enough, only skidding across the stone and spitting sparks instead burying itself in the thing's foot. The Khajiit danced around it nimble enough and the little Bosmer was keeping it back well enough. The five of them were pushing it further back against the wall like hunters cornering a bear in its cave, Solveig slowly making her way to its back. Solveig darted forward with Cleftjaw at her shoulder, just as quick as her. The thing reared its ugly head their way and gave Solveig pause, her breath catching in her throat. It caught the two off-guard and punched Cleftaw's raised shield hard enough to send him skidding on his back a few meters away, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, eyes just as wide.

Do'Karth gritted his teeth as Cleftaw was knocked back, although he had no time to discern if his fellow fighter was grievously injured.The giant was distracted, and skirting as wide and fast around it as the dock would allow, the nimble khajiit ran past the creature before suddenly skidding to a halt and running towards its back, planting the base of his staff into one of the crooks between the dock's planks and propelling himself upwards onto the giant's back, where the gaudy armour gave him plenty of purchase, but made his leg throb on impact. Wasting no time, lest he find the mace or an oversized hand reaching out to him, Do'Karth quickly wrapped his staff around the giant's neck where the opening allowed it to move its neck and slid it behind its right shoulder. Weapon secure, he grabbed the end left of the neck and planted his foot firmly on the other where the shoulder was and began to pull, yelling with the exertion and excitement of the battle as he tried to choke the creature out, or at the very least become enough of a concern that the giant left Masser-sized openings for Do'Karth's companions to exploit. "Down, you bastard! This one does not have time for your stubbornness!" He snarled. 

Solveig's spear struck as quick as a snake and she managed to stick it into the beast's side. The thing roared so loud it felt like it was going to break her ears and it grasped onto the haft of her spear with one hand and with a forearm the thickness of her waist, broke the haft as if it was a twig. She stood, staring dumbly before she regained herself in time to catch the blade of the thing's big knife, the point shoving through her shield dangerously close to her face. She jumped back towards Cleftjaw in time for someone to shout something about reinforcements. She turned her head to see men surging out of the gate and she would've added her own reinvigorated warcry to their own, but her vision exploded with a burst of white and she felt like she was flying.