[@gcold]

Utu-ja hadn't felt this bad... ever.  Even after healing his insides felt bruised and slightly out of place, causing a queasiness that he hoped wouldn't remain too long.  He had regained consciousness during the removal of the needles of ice that had been decorating his skin.  When he recognized his surroundings his first thought had to do with it being a very good thing that he didn't value his looks very highly.  The rest of his thoughts for several long minutes involved coarse words and daedra involved in dreadfully disreputable poses with a variety of deformed animals.  It was fortunate for those around him that he held his tongue.  By the time he would have thanked the healers, they had already moved on.

Finally, enough of his strength returned for him to struggle to his feet.  And just then he was asked what seemed to be a very silly question.  Utu might have smiled if not for the sickening feeling in his chest.  But, he did answer.  He spoke clearly and without fear, though fatigue laced his voice.

"This land gave me my first breath and my first taste of dust.  It'll give me my last.  The Nords can say the same.  Who else should I protect?"

Then he walked slowly out of the warehouse filled with guards and soldiers and the cries of the unfamiliar wounded.  He hadn't been close to the lines.  How did he survive?  Someone must have pulled his unconscious tail out of there.  Who though?  He stopped outside to let his eyes adjust to the light of day.  That plan hadn't gone half as well as he'd hoped.