[center][i][b]Sun's Height 15[/b][/i] [sup]Featuring [@Peik][/sup][/center] [color=gray]"Y'know, at least it's warm here, Sadri. Sure, you lost your pipe, and got punched in the face, but things could always get worse."[/color] The Dunmer was silent in his contemplation, his back leaning against the wall. All the recent adrenaline had raised his body temperature, and he was not exactly enjoying that. The snowy gusts of wind outside occasionally brought a refreshing breeze to the tired Dunmer, who was right in the middle of enjoying one of such when someone grabbed him by the collar and bashed him against the wall. Sadri, caught off-guard, fell onto the ground, and when his bad hand reached for his sword, a heavy boot suddenly smashed onto his forearm, binding it in place. He could see a gleam of a blade, seemingly that of an axe. He cursed under his breath, but it was shadowed by the figure's demanding question. "What do you know of these people? Explain!" Sadri looked up, and saw the imposing silhouette of the Cat-Kicker brandishing his axe against his face. At first, he was going to ask 'what the fuck, Dumhuvud', but when was he to act smart? Always the dumb move guy, Sadri blurted out the first one-liner that came to his head. [color=gray]"You take that foot off, or I'm going to lose my other arm up your ass, Cat-Kicker,"[/color] Sadri hissed out, anger and frustration teeming from behind his teeth. This fuck wasn't just going to shit in his cozy moment and then demand things, no. Teeth biting and axe-hand clenched white-knuckled, Dumhuvud stared daggers into Sadri. This son of a skeever had guts for witty remarks at the face of imminent decapitation, how dare he, how stupid. The damn elf’s anger amplified Dumhuvud’s own, the result of which was stepping down upon the arm harder and pressing his axe slightly into the lower neck region. It seemed like inches away for drawing blood. "Shut your hole." The Cat-Kicker hissed back. The cave echoed their conversation, but the wind outside, and the fatigue of the sleepers meant nobody woke up to this confrontation. Plus, Dumhuvud just didn’t seem to care. "I'll ask again, what do you know of these Armiger piss drinkers?" Dumhuvud interrogated. "And how the crap do I know you aren’t with them?" He finished the question by lifting the axe over Sadri’s neck. It no longer bothered the Dunmer’s throat, but make no mistake, the Cat-Kicker was ready to slam it back down on a moment’s notice. Sadri weighed his options. He figured that he could possibly throw the Cat-Kicker off balance with his free arm and then bash the fucker's straw-filled head against the rocky ground until it cracked open, then some more. However, on the other hand, if he didn't succeed, he'd get his own head cleft into two, and even if he did succeed, he would have to explain the others why their leader was lying on the ground with the contents of his dearest skull revealed for all to see. [color=gray]"You could've asked, you imbecile fuck, and I could've answered!"[/color] Sadri roared with a low tone. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins get hotter, and could feel something seeping from under his bad eye. Had this fuck just caused him to burst a blood vessel? The possibility made him grit his teeth, and push at them with his tongue. All of his muscles ached for him to pull at this fuck's ankle with his good hand, bash his head into bits and then skull-fuck the remains of this shit's face, but he took in a deep breath, and calmed himself down enough for a non-physical answer. [color=gray]"Do I fucking dress like one of them? Act like one of them? I've killed more Kamal than you have, you cow-fucking shit! I don't even speak fucking Dunmeris!"[/color] Sadri sighed, and took in another breath. Insulting the guy who had an axe to his face any further would probably be a bad idea. [color=gray]"They're knights of the fucking Nerevarine or something, I don't know, they used to serve Vivec back when the fuck was actually there,"[/color] Sadri said, with a calmer, but still obviously frustrated tone. [color=gray]"I only saw them like, once, for fuck's sake. Now is this all? Because you keep that foot on my arm and it's going to get messy, one way or another."[/color] "Knights, what the fuck? And which dumb shit send spies dressed exactly in their god damned uniform?" Dumhuvud spat beside Sadri’s head. Hearing insults coming his way, Dumhuvud half listened to the explanations with his face twisted like a charging bull. "Don’t you talk trash to me!" The Cat-Kicker scolded. Sliding his boot up without warning, Dumhuvud’s foot found the Dunmer’s elbow and grinded it into the dirt at an unnatural angle.. A crisp pop then accompanied Sadri’s forearm twisting past its normal rotation. Before his victim could recover, Dumhuvud had already clamped that same boot unto the other arm. "This company is full of cunts, but you are the biggest cunt of them all." Dumhuvud fumed. He pressed his boot into Sadri’s elbow and spoke his words in spite. "You’re going to hand over your weapon and stay where I can see you. Do it, and I might forget about this in the morning. Don’t, and I’ll break this one right now." As the sack of shit in human form above him pressed his foot at his elbow, Sadri gave out a low-pitched growl that culminated in a huff that could kill lesser men, just as his elbow went 'pop'. Huffing out air, and slowly breathing in more, Sadri's pupils shrunk to a point where they could shoot out of his eyes and rip through Dumhuvud's internals. He hadn't felt this angry in a long time, and the frustration of not being able to do anything just made him angrier. In the heat, he had practically forgotten about the fuck dislocating his elbow - had he not an axe to his face, Sadri would've probably gutted the fuck, right here and now. [color=gray]"How the fuck do you expect me to give you my damned sword when you break my one arm and pin the other?"[/color] Sadri asked, words practically cutting out of his mouth, with a tone so grating that it could make Sadri give a Greybeard a run for his money. "I’ll take it from you." Dumhuvud corrected. Moving his foot off Sadri’s arm, the Cat-Kicker gave the Dunmer’s side a hard punt to flip his sword-bearing side up. Leaning down with a sneer on in front of Sadri, Dumhuvud proceeded to rip the scabbard from its belt ring. Then, for no practical reasons besides rubbing it in, Dumhuvud sent Sadri rolling away with another kick. "Now, fuck off and go stick that thumb back up your ass." Dumhuvud dismissed. [color=gray]"Oh, I'll fuck off alright,"[/color] Sadri hissed. He would receive his sword in the morning, and his arm could be fixed. But what was going to happen to Dumhuvud was going to be inevitable. Sadri knew that, eventually, Dumhuvud would show a moment of weakness in which he would enact his revenge. Eventually. Be it in a day, a week, months, years, Sadri was going to come back for this moment. He would give his children a visit as he lay bedridden. He would find his remains if it needed to. This fucker wasn't going to get away with it. His good hand latched onto his elbow and his magic started working as he slowly set the dislocated bone back in place, teeth grinding against each other. Something had ticked off in his head. Perhaps some forgotten fragment of nail was still in there, grinding against his muscles, feeding his hate. Sadri gave a huff. He hadn't felt this much in a long time - perhaps, somewhere in his mind, he felt a tinge of appreciation for Dumhuvud for making him feel this way, but Sadri wouldn't dare think of it. He reveled in his emotional surge, and elaborated on his increasingly despicable revenge fantasies until he fell asleep, mouth clenched shut. [hr] [center] [i][b]Sun's Height 16[/b][/i] [/center] Why does it snow in summer? Keegan had seen enough in a month to know whatever divine and daedra presided over this scrap of dung they call Skyrim, had the cruelest sense of humor. Therefore, he started to find luxuries in dire times are nothing more than conveniences commonly taken for granted. Four hours of sleep never felt better, and neither was the nearly indigestible trash Dunmers called food. Even better, the brute that slept in the same bedroll left behind a scarf and short cloak, something the Altmer appreciated with the weather. All things considered, Keegan didn't feel like complaining. On the other hand, Farid was not so smug even as he took a Dunmeri dagger trophy. The wavy blade, made from common steel but finished with Morrowind decorations, could not cheer the Redguard from losing his coin purse (earned by rescuing Ander). The journey was rough, despite whatever treatment the shoemakers did for him, Keegan's boots just didn't seem to make the cut. He stepped inside the cave with signs of trench foot, eyes blinded and stomach churning at the damp scent of rot. He didn't even hear half of what Leif said before monster sounds caused to him jump, and hit his head on the ceiling. Only then did the situation become lucid; they were fighting Falmers and their war beasts. "Right, light." Keegan muttered back to Leif. He lit up a magelight, one of the alteration kind, in order to scare off their enemies. Well, it worked as expected. How could anyone expect light to turn away blind things? Sometimes, Nord logic led to baffling places. "Stupid!" Keegan cursed a little to loudly, probably loud to a point where Leif heard it. He readied a fear spell, something that could send these wretched beings back, and give himself time to get the hell out of dodge. Before it finished, however, one of these creatures charged in and started fighting Orakh. Seeing the Orc getting in position, Keegan lowered his spell, after all, he didn't want to end up the victim of Orcish berserk because of faulty aim. Instead, he skirted to the creature's side and stabbed at it with his staff blade. Using only one uninjured arm, the only commendable result was Keegan's effort. Thankfully, the rest of the group came to Keegan's aid. Dumhuvud went in and chopped up Orakh's opponent to pieces. Then Farid entered mocking Sagax's crazy maneuver, followed with Ariane and her bound weapon. The people up front were lead by Do'Karth, but by the mixture of shouting and cutting, Keegan had no idea what went on over there. Apparently the Khajiit's bunch succeeded in taking a few Falmers down, and were now falling behind the safety of the larger half. "Giddy up, runner boy!" Farid mocked Sagax, but he promptly stopped talking as a [i]Courtesan[/i] sailor dropped dead beside him. The killer revealed itself as a dagger wielding Falmer. It leaped at Farid, who ducked under and pushed the Armiger dagger into Falmeri underbelly. Dirty blood oozed onto Farid's sleeves. Gritting his teeth, the Redguard pulled out the dagger in reverse grip and stabbed it into the Falmer's neck; it died in seconds. "Going for seconds?" Farid taunted Sagax, finding reassurance in his boasts after a brush with death. Behind the safety of Orakh's shield, and whatever defensive magic Ariane weaved, Keegan pondered his next move. Perhaps Leif meant fire when he asked for light? The dead sailor had a torch, and Keegan used his telekinesis to fling it into a chaurus. It seemed to work as the beast reared back, weaker belly exposed. "Kill it!" Keegan shouted, himself casting soul trap and held out a soul gem eagerly. What better time to catch them all?