[h3][i]The Cat and the Flames[/i][/h3]
[sub]featuring yours truly and [@Dervish][/sub]

There was a perverse sense to Duhumvud sending Sadri and the newest member of the company, Narzul, up ahead as both scouts and potential vanguard, seeing as they were Dunmer and if they weren’t seen with the rest of the team, there was a chance, slim as it may be, they would escape much in the way of scrutiny. It was strange knowing that Narzul was Niernen’s brother, the two couldn’t have been more different in bearing. Niernen was compassionate, warm… her brother was as rigid and regimented as the military that spawned him, and it was very clear that he didn’t take kindly to the news of his sister’s thoughts of the Khajiit. And so, Do’Karth kept his distance and stuck by Sevine as much as possible, not only to stand by her when the time to fight came, but also to try and cement that she was where his heart lied. It was an awkward situation that Do’Karth had never anticipated coming to pass in a thousand years, but here he was and he had to make do with it, under the command of vile Nord that was infamous for kicking one of Do’Karth’s kin to death. 

He rolled his jaw, reflecting on how much he truly loathed this war and everything that came with it. He was a man who sought inner peace and tranquility, and the past several weeks had done a lot to break that shell and put his limits to the utmost test. He would have given anything to take Sevine and run from this damned place and find somewhere that had never heard the clash of steel in ages, where the food was plentiful and the sands were warm. There were too many faces that he’d come to love in the time he’d been with the company, only to have them disappear one by one. 

Do’Karth thought Niernen was lost forever, a woman he’d grown to greatly respect and admire, but she came back as if trying to defy what was expected of the fools who signed up for this stupid, stupid war. He tried to picture Jorwen’s face, but all that crossed the Khajiit’s mind was his imposing stature and great fiery beard. For a moment, shame filled Do’Karth’s heart; Jorwen’s memory deserved so much more than a lapse from an overly tired and frustrated Khajiit. He thought then of Solveig, and the promise he kept to Jorwen. How would he ever be able to make things right by him? He was just a foolish cat with a stick who was playing at a game that had impossibly high stakes. Why was he even here? Perhaps it was Mara and S’Rendarr’s way of punishing him for trying to find happiness for himself by choosing Sevine rather than devoting himself to others. It was a glum feeling that left him feeling empty and the most lost he’d felt in such a long time. The amulet about his neck felt like an unbearable weight rather than a source of strength. More than ever, he needed guidance and reassurance that what he was doing was right. No voice filled his consciousness, just the constant patter of footfalls of his companions and him as they marched into the unknown on the forebodingly named Bleakrock Isle.

A sharp crack and cries of alarm snapped Do’Karth out of his melancholy and with a sinking feeling of dread he knew that the bridge up ahead that he’d heard Sadri and Narzul crossing gave out under them. Resisting the urge to sprint forward to try and rescue them, he knew he couldn’t be reckless and give away his position. The group advanced with some urgency and were stopped at the sight of ten figures who were immediately apparent as the Armigers, the very enemies they were sent to confront. Do’Karth took a few moments to close his eyes and slow his breathing, allowing himself a moment of meditation before battle, expelling his pain and doubts with each breath as he found his center, and his purpose. He was a warrior, it was in his very soul. And it was this soul that was being called upon to act to protect the lives of his comrades and the innocents of the mainland. 

The command to attack came suddenly, and Do’Karth’s eyes sprung open, wide and attentive as he charged his foe, who had turned to face the oncoming adversaries with his weapon at the ready, a pickaxe. Do’Karth was still simmering with anger and hatred towards this Dunmer and he projected all of it into the vessel of an elf before him. With a ferocious snarl, Do’Karth lashed out with intent to maim with his staff, his normally calm and collected manner of combat forgot in a ferocious flurry of blows that the Armiger managed to largely deal with, even going so far as to catch Do’Karth’s staff in his hands and pull him forward, causing the Khajiit’s grip to slip as he stumbled, trying to regain his balance. The Armiger stared down at Do’Karth with disgusted red eyes, and the Khajiit knew then that it wasn’t his skill that had failed him, it was his turbulent emotions. Much like his foolish drive to try and find shelter in the ice storm the week prior that had almost gotten him consumed by a Charrus, the turmoil that rocked his soul had made him reckless and clumsy. And he would pay for that foolishness when the pickaxe came crashing down into his skull.

Where turbulent emotions were nearly the cause of Do'Karth's downfall, they simultaneously drove another member of the Company to new heights of disgustingly successful violence. Niernen, furious and terrified for her brother's safety after watching him plummet into a ravine with Sadri, almost found herself ignoring everything and making a mad dash for the ledge to see if her brother was still alive. Much like Do'Karth, however, she didn't, and instead followed Duhumvud's command to attack -- or rather, she was going to kill them all and Duhumvud happened to agree with her course of action. She stayed behind the melee specialists and drew upon her respectable magicka reserves, chest heaving and face contorted with rage, and her hands were quickly simmering with wicked flames. Tears filled her eyes and she resisted the urge to scream as her emotions almost completely overwhelmed her. Was she even fit for combat anymore? What if she couldn't do this? What if Narzul was dead?

She blinked away the tears and realized that Do'Karth might be next if she didn't intervene, the sight of him at the mercy of one of the Armigers shocking her back to her senses. Using both hands Niernen fired a salvo of screaming fireballs that slammed into the Dunmer from the side with such force that he immediately lost his grip on Do'Karth and stumbled backwards. Liquid flames spat out in all directions, some sizzling drops passing Do'Karth by with a mere inch to spare, and fire enveloped the Armiger entirely. Dunmer are resistent to fire magic, of course, but the volcanic wrath of a sorceress scorned was too much for even the Armiger to handle and he screamed his last as he fell to his knees. Niernen approached him, gathering a final spell in both hands, and blasted her fellow Dunmer foe apart into several burning pieces with a close-range discharge of scorching heat akin to an explosive cannonball, the sound of which carried across the field like a peal of thunder. Was it overkill? Definitely. Satisfying? [i]Definitely.[/i] After a few seconds Niernen finally took her eyes off the scattered remains of the Armiger and turned to look at the Khajiit. 

"Do'Karth, are you alright?" she asked, her voice quivering, torn between fury and concern. 

The display of power was incredible, and even though it wasn't the first time Do'Karth had encountered near-incineration at the hands of Niernen, it was no less petrifying. The oxygen around him was consumed in the inferno and the Khajiit was gasping for air and his skin and fur felt agonizingly hot as he tried to crawl away from the fire, not sure if he was burning or not. Everything about him hurt, and it became apparent that there wasn't an Armiger left when the spell finally was extinguished. 

He barely heard Niernen's voice, his senses were so rattled. Looking around in frantic, jerky motions, Do'Karth's eyes locked on Niernen, trying to reconcile that she had saved him from his fate with the very visceral feeling of nearly brushing with an agonizing demise once more had she been even a little less precise. Turmoil was certainly what consumed Do'Karth, but even that seemed to be too mild a sentiment. "This one... this one is fine." he managed, fumbling for his staff, if it even survived. His hand managed to grip it, the treated wood having resisted the heat as well. "Do'Karth owes you thanks. He was careless." he said after a moment, realizing it was probably what Niernen needed to hear. It was a foolish temperament that got him into this mess, and once more it came to a friend to pull him out of it. 

The she-elf felt her stomach twist when she saw the fear and shock in Do'Karth's eyes as it dawned on her that she had almost burned him alive too. [i]Again.[/i] The absurdity of the situation made her laugh involuntarily. "I'm sorry, I don't think it's funny," she managed to stammer and patted the Khajiit on his warmer-than-usual shoulder. "That's the nerves laughing. Come on, I'll help you up--" 

Her sentence was cut short by abruptly by a yelp of pain. After a split second, Niernen realized it was her own, and subsequently became aware that she was falling over. Sharp pain began to pulsate in her leg -- her bum leg, the same one that had been broken so recently. She hit the ground with a rather anticlimactic [i]flomp[/i] and rolled over on her back to see what had attacked her, her breath coming in sharp bursts and her hair unhelpfully clouding her face. It was an Armiger with a wicked-looking chitin spear and tribal Ashlander tattoos spiderwebbing across his face. Of course it was; the fight wasn't over. Shouldn't have stopped to chat. She raised her hands in defense but the pain was so fierce and blinding she couldn't concentrate enough to draw on her magicka. 

"Help!" she screamed.