To his surprise, Solveig accepted Sagax's hand, and even said thanks. Shouldn't be so quick to judge, Sagax, people can surprise you in a lot of ways. Like Sadri. Though that wasn't quite the same surprise, as his was more of the startling kind. Sagax barely saw the Mer out of the corner of his eye as he was helping Solveig up, just in time to watch him exchange blows with one of the crimsonheads. Unfortunately for Sadri, the one he picked a fight with was considerably strong, and sent the Dark Elf straight to the ground with a single blow. Hm, what was he looking at? Solveig? He wore a strange expression, almost like embarrassment, but not quite. Oh well, no concern of Sagax's. He left Solveig to see to the crazy Mer, and made his way to the Armigers' cave, careful not to trip over any bodies. Could people just...not kill each other? For once? Maybe? Would lighten the mood a little. 

In the cave was a veritable stash of supplies. Just how long were these warriors planning to stay here for? There were plenty of rations, some bedrolls, and other basic supplies. Leaning against the wall of the cave was a small shield made of some kind of chitin. Lifting it up revealed that it was much lighter than it looked; Sagax could toss it around with relative ease. He had an inclination to claim it for himself, but he set it back down after some thinking. The shield was likely left behind in a hurry by one of the dead Armigers outside, and though they were enemies, Sagax would not avail the dead of their personal affects. It just felt...wrong. The dead should be left in their peaceful slumber, as dictated by Arkay.

After everyone had huddled into the shelter and ate their portion of the rations, it was time to get some well earned sleep. Sagax found himself next to Keegan, with the Illusion mage snoring by the fire opposite them, bad leg outstretched and resting on the other. He had given Sagax back his cloak; he deduced he'd be fine with just the fire. The Imperial wasn't about to argue, he was absolutely freezing even with the fur lining of his leathers. Sleep came slowly at first, but some force pulled Sagax along, quickening his descent into the world of dreams.

There he was again. The docks of Windhelm, with that unholy abomination standing at the end of the pier. Something felt different this time, though. There was another presence, not foreboding but not welcoming. It seemed to be everywhere, though the Kamal mage seemed oblivious to it. It weaved its hands in that same motion, the aura it summoned swirling in front of it, more violent with each movement of its arms. Finally, the mage drew their arms back to let loose their bolt. Sagax was no longer watching the mage, though, for another entity had appeared behind the beast. They were just barely visible, all but their left arm and leg covered by the Kamal. It reached its golden-armored hand towards the blade at its hip, and drew out a gleaming silver blade, of a make completely unfamiliar to Sagax. With one motion, the entity cut right through the mountain in front of them, and the Kamal disintegrated into some kind of horrible gray ash. 

[i]For another time...[/i] 

The voice came not from the swordsman, but from Sagax's own head. It was like a whisper and a shout at the same time, in a hundred different voices. As the figure stepped forward, the land around them began to shift and change, like an ungodly corruption, turning all it touched into ash and faded, cracked stone. The rivers of Windhelm dried, the banks filled with ash and sand. The mists parted to reveal an endless, hilly landscape. In the center, an impossibly tall titan of a mountain, spewing forth black smoke and seeping with lava. The sky was enclosed by dark, thunderous clouds, blocking out all sunlight. By the time Sagax was shaken from his awe, the swordsman was standing face to face with him. His features were almost nonexistant. Barely-visible, ghostly-pale flesh overlayed a jawless skull. The rest of his body was covered by a strange golden armor, with one feature immediately recognizable to Sagax: The signet of the Imperial Dragon, stamped straight across the middle of the chestplate. His shield, a large steel tower shield, was of a make that had been long discontinued by the Imperial Legion. Who was this man? The spirit of some lingering-

[i]Who I am is not important, though yes, I was of the Imperial Legion, of Uriel Septim the seventh.[/i]

Uriel Septim the seventh!? The final emperor of the former era? That was two hundred years ago! Wait, why are you freaking out so much, Sagax? This is just a-

[i]That is a half-truth. I exist within your dreams, but I assure you, I am very much real.[/i]

This-

[i]...is entirely possible. The ghosts of the dead wander this land regularly. It is the reason for the existence of...[/i] The spirit held his silver sword in front of him; it still gleamed as if it were never used. [i]...tools such as this.[/i]

Yeah, you've lost it, Sagax. When you come to, you're going to be prancing around singing old children's rhymes...

[i]If you insist on stubbornness, then so be it. I shall simply impart this: Do not be fooled by fear, Sagax. You will tell yourself something cannot be done, when all you must do is see it done. You performed admirably during the siege, but yet you still hold some small, yet hampering fear; you shall face further trials. Now go, show your friends, and more importantly, your enemies, that you are no coward.[/i]

Sagax awoke immediately, trembling in a cold sweat. He found himself joined by, Do'karth who had found his sleeping spot next to Keegan. The sand and ash of his dreams were replaced by dirt and snow, and the sounds of the mountain spewing its filth replaced by polar winds. 

"Hey, kid, you're up." A voice beckoned to him. Right, he was the last watch. Wiping his forehead and getting up from his bedroll, Sagax made his way to the mouth of the cave, carefully stepping over other sleepers. Leaning against the lip of the cave's entrance, Sagax stared out towards the sea, thinking about that crazy fucking dream he had. What would he tell everyone? Hell, should he even talk about it? What would he even say? That he was being advised, in his dreams no less, by some centuries-old warrior of another era? He'd be carted off straight to the loony bin. No, he'd keep it to himself. It was just a dream, anyway, nothing to worry about.

[hr]

The trek across the tundra was grueling, there was no other way to put it. Snow hammered the company and threatened to bury alive anyone who lost their footing, the pure cold was incredibly oppressive, and the way ahead was no more clear than it was a few hours ago. Sagax swapped his cloak between himself and the Breton mage at regular intervals, hoping to keep at least some balance of warmth. The trail cleared by those in the front was of limited usefulness, but was welcome nonetheless. Things had to get worse, of course, and so the storm picked up to truly lethal levels, the sudden gusts of wind even sending some people to the ground. Do'karth yelled to push ahead, and that he found a cave to take shelter in. Oh boy, more caves. Can't wait to see what wonders this place holds-oh son of a fucking bitch.

The screeches of Falmer echoed all around then, and a big bug...thing found its way to Do'karth, threatening to cleave his head clean off his shoulders with its pincers. More were on the way, and Falmer were already descending on the group. Solveig managed to kill one at least. He turned to the Breton mage and shrugged at him, silently asking if he could do anything. The mage thought for a moment, and began charging two spells, one in each hand. One orb was of a strange green color, while the other glowed red. He quickly launched the red orb at the further-most Falmer of the group. The pale creature charged at their nearest comrades and began flailing wildly. One died quickly from the surprise-attack, and the other two were heavily wounded before they put down their crazed brethren. The cyan orb was gifted to Sevine, who would suddenly find herself temporarily feeling more hardy and courageous. 

Sagax stared at the insect assaulting Do'karth, wondering if he could jump in and get it off him. Could his sword even pierce that armor? Was he quick enough to evade its strikes? It could just kill him then and there, not to mention...oh what the hell.

Releasing his sword from its scabbard, Sagax charged forward and jumped onto the back of the giant bug; the ridges of its chitin made for favorable footholds. Gripping the handle with one hand and the middle of the blade with the other, Sagax carefully aimed the tip of his blade. When he found a good spot to stab, that being a gap in the beast's chitin plates, the Imperial violently jammed his blade in the horrid thing, which sent it screeching and reeling. It tried to shake Sagax off, but that only caused him to make the blade bite deeper and deeper, sending the creature into a frenzy. 

Prying back and forth, the chaurus' chitin began cracking and popping, and its screeching only got louder. When he was sure that it was sufficiently injured, and when he couldn't take that infernal sound assaulting his ears any longer, Sagax tore his blade out and hopped off the beast's back. Pulling Do'karth back up, he ran back with the Beastman to the relative safety of the company. He watched as the chaurus deliriously hobbled back to its nest, screeching all the way. Sagax's heart was absolutely pounding. What the fuck did he just do? Why? Because a dream-ghost told him to? What the actual hell, Sagax?