Keegan was pretty sure he's not the only "volunteer". In fact, he's certain he saw some people in his group just last night, lined up outside of the command tent and taking away Do'Karth's privilege of not being seasick. So when Daelin semi-sarcastically mentioned his name and role, Keegan did not feel like smiling in the slightest. Some could say the Altmer took things too seriously, but in all seriousness, he was fed up being the worst combatant in the entire group and felt increasingly urgent to prove himself in combat. After all, basically everyone that got this far from the Reach or Windhelm have killed something significant; everyone but Keegan. He never wanted to kill people, but wildlife was another story, and the savage nature of beasts made them the far better candidates to demonstrate Keegan's prowess.  

The weather's nice, warm, as some called it. While it was the warmest he had ever experienced in Skyrim, the temperature today still ranged far below anything in Alinor or Hammerfell. Even Daggerfall and Wayrest were warmer for the most part. But with his latest set of sturdier clothing and a belly full of hot food, Keegan not longer shivered for a change. He's feeling toasty with a well-prepared lunch and some good hiking, so much toasty that it toasted into, burning?

What could someone expect by walking straight into a forest fire? Probably not something like a swarm of bees and a panicked lumberjack. Actually, the second one was to be expected, but the stream of fire coming from the man's hands was not. Here was Keegan thinking that all Nords are no-magic potatoes, or at least, the popular Nords always picked on the magic nerds. Dangerous arts like pyrotechnical destruction should not be simply thrown around by simpletons. In all likelihood, this whole fire thing was probably caused by idiots like this one. 

The forest burn damage was severe, but Keegan's already underestimating the situation. Somehow, the thought of the entire mission being simple, and thus ending soon, crept into his mind. So when the spriggans and wolves closed in on his comrades, the Altmer threw caution to the winds. He saw Sevine being pinned by wolves and was not far from becoming doggy chew toy. In this case, people like Jorwen and Dax were far more qualified to help than he. Instead, Keegan picked the biggest and the baddest tree-witch thing to test a maneuver learned from a dubious "polearm training book": the [i]frontal charge[/i]. What could possibly go wrong?

Brows narrowing and lips curled up to a sneer, Keegan let out a surprisingly respectable battle cry and propelled his feet towards the spriggan matron. He ran as fast as he could, across a route cleared out by other mercenaries, with the blades of his staff leveraged like a spearhead. As he drew past the screen of wolves, worries suddenly replaced the excitement of combat. He remembered how Felix tried to do the exact same thing for the exact same reason on different enemies. Surely a rickety old piece of voodoo wood broke easier than an adamantium-clad snow demon, right? Nope, Keegan found out. The four blades did go into wood, except that they stuck in shallowly, barely one-third to the hilt and not even close to going through as imagined. Yet for some cruel reason, Keegan had trouble pulling the staff back out.

In a situation as dangerous as his current one, Keegan went for the least logical move; punching the spriggan. If Keegan wanted safety, he would have not charged in the first place. He would be better off throwing spells from the back, but then again, someone (like that brainless moron who couldn't figure out the square root of four) would scold him for being a "useless support" and having to "carry his ass". Turned out he really should have been the "useless support", because all his punch did was denting a sharp stud and bloodying his knuckles. 

"No way!" Keegan screamed. 

That ever so fierce battle cry shifted into the crack of a child. The Altmer had the spriggan's attention now, and as the monster's head turned to look at him, Keegan thought about headbutting it. Unfortunately, the thing headbutted him first. Keegan fell back like a sack of rocks.

His head hurt so much that his ears rang, not only that, his nose bled and vision clouded with black and gray. In Keegan's current state, the spriggan could kill him by merely walking over him. So much for that bravado. In the future, if there's even a future for him, he would absolutely not heed a single line from that training book ever again. For now though, a nap sounded real cozy. The ground was nice and charred, the clashing and screaming melted into a lullaby for Keegan. Plus, the spriggan stepped around him to find someone else to kill; how nice of it.  

Thirty seconds after he entered battle, Keegan blacked out.