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Unknown Cave, West Weald, Cyrodiil

Evening, Sun's Dusk 15, 2E 638



Before Helspar Dalas blacked out, he was riding in the back of a horse-drawn, open top carriage. A brown-coated Colovian stallion trotted on a thin layer of slush, pulling the well-worn wooden vehicle in between two others. It was the second snow this season in West Weald. Tiny snowflakes drifted in the chilling wind. It was cold, but not quite freezing; the snow melted as soon as it hit the ground. The road between Skingrad and Kvatch was almost barren; few travelers in the region wished to brave the cold. Even wild animals went into hibernation. Bird chirps were scarce, and the only sounds that stayed with the caravan were gusts blowing through the dried-up grass.

Then they came from the brushline, spells and arrows wielded by figures in metal and leather. The attack was so sudden that the horses panicked and tumbled. The carriage Helspar rode on drove straight into a ditch. His world flipped sideways, and the ground rushed to meet Helspar's face.

When Helspar woke up, the first sense to alarm him was sound. There were metal rattling, heavy footsteps and the terrified screams of an old man. "No, gods please, no! No!!" It sounded just like the carriage driver.

The source of the screams were gone when sight came to Helspar. All he could see was a dark and smoky cavern. The place smelled rotten, dank moistures mixed with torch fumes. Helspar was locked in a metal cage that was just tall enough for him to stand, and just long enough for him to lay down. There were a dozen other cages in the cavern, illuminated by three freestanding torches. Beyond the torches was a passage that turned beyond view. As far as he could tell, all other cages were open and empty, though some had blood and torn clothing still left in them. Leading out of each cage was a trail of someone being dragged across the muddy floor.

As for Helspar himself, he was uninjured, save for a slight headache. Most of his personal belongings were gone, though. His backpack, his trusty bow, quiver and skinning knife had all been taken away. So was the fur hat he bought in Cheydinhal. And, as expected from anyone who locked travelers in cages, his gold was gone too. At least they had the decency to leave his clothing on. This meant that they didn't search the interior pocket of his coat. Helspar's repair kit was still with him!

Helspar breathed a sigh of relief. He had something to work with. Now the question became whether or not he should do something about his current predicament. It was obvious that the denizens of this cave had malicious intents; anyone with common sense would try to escape. But what if they caught him trying to escape? Maybe they would only held Helspar there for ransom, and anything rash on his part would result in his death. Then he remembered the agonizing screams minutes ago. That was not the sound of a man being set free. And after all, no one would pay for Helspar's ransom anyway. The only person that cared about him was being worked to death somewhere in Vvardenfell. Helspar couldn't give up, for Gnarl-Braid's sake.

Armed with two slender pins from the repair kit, and negligible experiences in lockpicking, Helspar went to work on the cage lock. It never occurred to him how awkward it was to work a lock from the other side. His wrist must twist at a painful angle to insert the pins into the lock. He remembered one of Gnarl-Braid's huntmates sharing his thieving exploits. Just push one pin up and flatten the tumblers with the other. It was definitely a lot easier said than done. Sweat began form on Helspar's forehead, and his hands trembled inside his gloves. Thankfully, the lock was worn and loose. A cautious prod yielded a sharp click, and several clicks later, the pins broke. However, the lock had enough play at this point to be forced open.

"Ha, phew!" Helspar chuckled. He wiped the sweat from his face and pushed the creaking cage door open. Helspar couldn't believe it; he picked a lock!

Before he could celebrate, Helspar noticed that not all cages in the cavern were as empty as he'd previously seen. There was one more cage further inside than his. The door was closed, and a figure, partially obscured in shadow, was just stirring inside. This must be someone from the caravan. He couldn't leave this person there, could he? If Helspar had another survivor with him, he would have a better chance taking on his abductors. But then again, he didn't plan on taking on his abductors. He had no weapon, and the only way out was sneaking, so having someone else was just more noise...

Argh, to Oblivion with it! The regret would endless if he left them behind. So Helspar approached the other cage. Before he reached it, he almost tripped over on...a skeleton.

"Oh gods!" Helspar cursed (and nearly jumped). He stepped gingerly around the skeleton.

"Alright, alright." Kneeling in front of the cage, Helspar whispered to himself, trying to still his pounding heart. He placed one hand on the cage door and shook it.

"Hey, hey, over here." Helspar whispered louder this time, so that the person inside the cage could hear him. "You were on the caravan, right? We have to get out of here!"
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Blue eyes peered through the grates, blinking as they tried to make out this person talking to them in the relative darkness. The further she stared, the clearer things became as her eyes adjusted to the dim lights dotting the cavern. This clarity brought forth the fact that she was not only in an unfamiliar place, but in a cage to boot. It was hard not to panic at such a discovery, and though the young mage normally tried to hide any show of inadequacy (even if it often was a waste), Anne-Marie Cloutier allowed herself to act in a manner that fit the situation.

"What? Whe- where am I? Who are you?" The blonde Breton attempted to sit up straight, perhaps a little too quickly, because she suddenly felt dizziness and the urge to throw up. Forcing herself to stay still, one hand to her mouth just in case, Anne-Marie reached up and gingerly touched the back of her head, wincing when she touched damp hair and a bump below that. It looked like she had gotten hurt, perhaps by falling? Or perhaps someone had hit her over the head? She wouldn't have been surprised, she had seen such terrible things happen before her eyes. That was one of the many reasons she had-

She blinked, her eyes swerving up to look beyond the rungs of the cage to the person who had spoken to her. "Y-yes, I was-" She paused, eyes narrowing as she reached to the side and grabbed onto on of the rungs, pulling herself up unsteadily, feeling the ground spinning beneath her. Unable to keep herself from spewing any longer, she let herself double over and threw up whatever little had been in her stomach. There wasn't much to let out, and after a small grunt of disgust, she stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. Her nose wrinkled; she could smell much and smoke and all sorts of unpleasantness from her robes, a far cry from how clean they had been when she had first started on the journey.

Stumbling forward, Anne-Marie didn't have to walk more than a couple of feet before she reached the cage's door, now able to properly see the person who was on the other side. Even up close it would have been easy to mistake him for a human, but that dark skin clearly screamed Dunmer to her. Instinctively she took a step back. The three alliances were no longer as strong as they used to be, but that didn't necessarily mean people didn't hold their old grudges. Anne-Marie held no such allegiances, perhaps because the family she had escaped from cared nothing for any mortal life.

Perhaps with her blond hair and blue eyes, he mistook her for a Nord? Her stature was anything but.

That hardly mattered though, did it? She knew very well what happened to people trapped in cages, and it was usually never a happy outcome.

Anne-Marie stepped to closer to the cage's door once more, pulling at it. It was locked. Her hands tightened around the rungs and she looked up at the Dunmer. "Uhm, you'll have to unlock the door. I mean, I'm guessing you had to do the same to yours?" She didn't know how to unlock things without keys. Heal someone using another's life essence? Easy. Break open a lock? Impossible.

"Please? I- I think they'll probably kill us for some reason or other if we don't leave."
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The figure in the cage was a human woman, with lightly-colored hair and a short stature. It wasn't surprising, as West Weald was said to be mostly inhabited by Imperials, and the Gold Coast was frequently visited by other humans. Helspar couldn't tell which specific human race she was, though. Humans all looked the same in a way to him. He knew that Redguards have darker skins (and really good with swords), so this fellow traveler probably wasn't one of them. The Imperials were, well, the most boring and mediocre. If Heslpar ventured a guess, he would say that this woman was Breton or Nord. Neither one matter for now, as no mortal race had the ability to slink out between cage grates (as far as Helspar knew).

"Alright, I'll try to open it." Helspar told the woman. Like him, she had no weapon, tools or bags in the cage with her. Pulling out his repair kit once more, Helspar found no more slender enough pins inside.

"I'm going need a thin piece of metal; maybe a hairpin?" He asked. "I broke the only ones I had picking my cage."

Sure enough, the human woman was able to give Helspar what he needed. He got to work again. This time, he had a bit more experience than before. The lock was opened in a few minutes, though the pin still broke upon extraction. While he worked, Helspar frequently looked over his shoulder. The cavern was quiet, save for the crackling of torches and the occasional water dripping. He also spared a few glances at his fellow prisoner, but was too nervous to say anything.

"It's open." Helspar said. He moved back a few steps to give the woman some space, and just in case she attacks.

"I-" He was about to exchange the basic pleasantries people exchange with new acquaintances, when the distant sound of footsteps interrupted. A shadow appeared in the passage leading out of the cavern, and the cold sweat that had almost dried soaked Helspar's cloths again.

"Someone's coming," Helspar warned, pointing to the approaching shadow, "hide!"

Helspar immediately dashed off to a pile of rocks, not even bother to see what the woman did. He curled up behind in, hidden in the shadow cast by a nearby torch. His plan was for the unknown figure (presumably one of his abductors) to go by, and then book it out while they're looking the other way. He should have told the woman that. It's too late now; she had gone to hide in another spot.

Then the figure came in sight. It was a big Khajiit, almost a head taller than Helspar, wearing tattered leather armor and had spotted fur like that of a leopard. This Khajiit must be one of larger sub-species. Khajiits were basically unheard of in Stormhold (due to the damp climate), and were primarily slaves in Morrowind. This Khajiit was strange and intimidating to Helspar.

"Damn lazy tree elves." As the Khajiit came into the cavern, Helspar heard him mutter. "Ordering this one to do all the dirty work. Ritual? Khajiit thinks not. More like..."

The Khajiit was far enough in (and paying no attention) for Helspar to run out into the passage. But as the cat-man walked in front of a torch, Helspar saw a bow slung across his back, the very same bow that belonged him.

Escape would have to wait a little longer; Helspar's not leaving without his weapon. He could easily sneak up on the Khajiit. There's a bunch of rocks on the ground, and Helspar picked up the biggest one he could carry; it was the size of his foot.

The Khajiit was now at the cage Helspar sat in minutes ago. "Huh?" He stared at the open door. "Is this the wrong-"

Helspar rushed out as fast as he could. The rock was raised above his head, as he charged...

...Only to trip and fall flat on his face, right behind the Khajiit.

The Khajiit turned around, looking down at the prone dark elf and the rock beside him.

"Uh, hi?" Helspar's face flushed like the Red Mountain, with embarrassment. His heart was pounding so fast, that he could hardly hear the words blurting out of his own mouth. "Heh, so, this is not what it looks like! It's just a pran-"

The Khajiit growled, a dagger came out of its sheath, into his hand, and down at Helspar.

Helspar rolled away. The dagger embedded into the soil behind him. He tried to stand, but found the Khajiit's meaty hands gripped around his neck, and slamming him back down to the ground.

"Help!" Helspar croaked out. The chokehold tightened, and he felt himself suffocating.

"You owe me for busting you out!" Was what Helspar wanted the human woman to hear. Though what came out was a series of gurgles. The Khajiit was too strong; Helspar couldn't shake him off.
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Hiding had been no great feat for Anne-Marie, who always considered herself something of wallflower. She had slunk out of the cage cautiously when it was unlocked, but when she heard someone was approaching, her movement quickened as she hurried to another convenient pile of rocks, pressing herself down against them as she heard the footsteps approaching where she had been caged. Her heart raced; she could almost hear it thumping against her chest. If there was a divine to ask for protection, she would have, but she doubted Molag Bal would be listening to any calls, and knowing her background, she very much doubted any other higher being would be magnanimous to her pleas.

It happened rather quickly, and Anne-Marie was a little too shocked to do anything at first, when she saw the man who had freed her fall rather gracelessly behind the much too large Khajiit. Oh no! If it had been her choice, she would have probably tried to sneak out of there... but maybe there was something she hadn't thought of that the dark elf had? She didn't know, but she suspected dying was not one of those ways to escape... What was he saying-

Her blue eyes were a larger than should have been allowed as she saw the reason why the Dunmer's voice was so garbled. But she didn't need to know what he was saying to know she had to help him out. It wasn't that he had saved her; it was just something she would have done regardless. Perhaps this was why she was so not suited for the life of a cult that sacrificed people to Molag Bal on the regular. Without further ado, the young Breton rose to her feet, stumbling slightly as she stepped on her cloak's hem in haste, arms spread and tottering to keep herself from falling over. There was no way so could take on that colossus of a Khajiit by herself... but maybe...

Calling on her magicka, her hands raised further. The Khajiit man was already surprised to see another escaped prisoner, but that was probably nothing when compared to seeing a rather ugly, totem burst from the ground before him. Constructed by bone, with arms stretched out and skulls decorating the top, it reeked of necromancy, fueling itself by not only Anne-Marie's magicka but also the essence of those who had passed away in this place. It was a creation made to protect her and her newfound ally, but also one to cause terror in the Khajiit guard. His fingers loosened their hold around the Dunmer's neck and it wasn't long before his hands were to his head, letting out a yowl of terror as he unwittingly let the dark elf fall to the ground.

"Come on!" Anne-Marie raced forward and grabbed at the Dunmer's wrist, yanking at him to get up up and away from the Khajiit. "We need to hide, and somehow get out of here too, but hide first!"
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One second Helspar was getting choked to death, and the next, he wasn't? The Khajiit went from bloody murder to clutching his own head and screaming at imaginary demons. The was some kind of construct that suddenly sprang out if the ground, and before Helspar could get a good look at it, his fellow prisoner had begun dragging him away by his wrist.

Helspar didn't object. The Khajiit was scary, and his blood curdling scream would no doubt draw unwanted attention. Helspar's bow and quiver were dropped, so he swept them up and slung them across his shoulder. Then he let the human woman take him to the cavern exit.

"Yes, right, we should just get out of here; hiding won't do us any good now." Helspar glanced back at Khajiit, seeing him still partly incapacitated. The bone construct had fallen apart, and Helspar felt the tingle of magic on the woman's hand, even through his glove.

"You conjured that?" Helspar started to put the pieces together. "Did you just...ugh, never mind; let's go!"

The passage that led out of the cavern was narrow, barely wide enough for two people. It was poorly lit, with torches far from each other. There were spider webs hanging from the walls, and nasty insects crawling across the wet soil. Helspar took the lead, with his bow and an arrow at the ready. He supposed the Breton woman was unarmed, but then again, she could very well be a dangerous mage, capable of spells that he had heard of only in rumors.

After a few minutes, the passage finally led to a less claustrophobic area. This seemed to be a crossroad, having several other passages that branched out into different directions. An opening was in the ceiling several stories above, casting moonlight into the area and revealing crates and carts. Of course, it was not empty.

"Took you long enough, Bent-Knee; Boss' getting impatient." A Bosmer woman spoke. "Heard you scream like baby. Ha, did you drop the bodies on your toes again?"

The wood elf got up from the crate she was sitting on; Helspar could see a nasty looking sword strapped to her belt. He stopped himself just short of the new area, hoping the shadows would keep him, and the woman behind him, out of view. Unfortunately, the Bosmer came their way.

"By Y'ffre!" The Bosmer almost jumped. She saw them, alright. And judging by how fast her sword was unsheathed, Helspar and his companion must've been terrible sneaks.

All of a sudden, Helspar remembered that he was holding his breath all throughout the passage. He found himself choking once again, and out of reflex, he shot an arrow at the Bosmer.

The arrow went straight into the Bosmer's throat. She was dead in an instant. Whether it was Helspar's instinct, or just a lucky shot, he couldn't tell.

When Helspar stepped into the new area, he was gasping for breath. As he was doing so, a spider that somehow got on his face tried to crawl into his mouth. Helspar threw it away in disgust. He searched the area for hidden surprises. There were none, for now. Next were the further passages. There were three of them, and judging by the wafts of air, one probably led to the exit. That would be good enough for Helspar, but then he heard sounds from another passageway. It sounded like, chanting?

"Something's this way." Helspar relayed his finding to the human woman. "Grab the sword; we should check it out."

This passage was much more well-lit compared to the last one. It was also wider, and flood Helspar with that damp underground musk. Instead, it smelled like, an alchemy shop? Well, the truth was just ahead in a gigantic cavern. It was filled strange stone obelisks and exotic plants. Glowing sigils lit the stony floor. Five people stood on a sigil each, forming a semi circle around a central stone platform. Standing over the platform was a figure in fur and bones, holding a dagger in hand. On the platform was the carriage driver, tied down by vines.

They were chanting in a language Helspar couldn't understand. But he read enough stories to know how this sort of event typically goes; the carriage driver would soon be sacrificed.

"They're going to kill him." Helspar let the human woman have a peek inside. He himself was already debating the next course of action. "What should we do? Can we get to..."
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Being one with the power to bring back life into dead bones wasn't something Anne-Marie prided herself on, and it was something she tried to keep hidden for the most part, but there was no way she could deny that its effects weren't helpful. There was stigma and rightfully so, and the Dunmer would probably hold that against her as well, but for now, escape was top priority. She couldn't stop herself from worrying though. She wished she had her staff...

She hear him mention the sword- well, beggars couldn't be choosers, she guessed. Anne-Marie didn't quite like blades as weapons- her arms weren't strong, well, she was rather weak altogether, her magicka being the strongest part of her. Even though the sword was meant to be held by only one hand, the small Breton had to grab it with both of hers as she tried to keep up with the Dunmer. It was a good thing she stopped just a few inches away from him when he spoke again; a little closer and she may have prodded him in the behind with the raised sword.

Her eyes were instantly drawn to the platform in the middle, locking onto the carriage driver and the man standing over him. Her mouth twisted into an unwilling grimace- she had seen this sort of ritual before, in fact, she had even partaken in one before running for her life. Bile rose from her stomach, making its way up to her throat, and she had to force herself not to throw up, because that certainly wouldn't help anyone.

"I can... do something" Her forehead screwed in concentration, eyes on the ground before her as her hands raised, sword still held, tightly in their grip. Then from the dirt rose a skeleton, green fumes wafting off him as the undead stood before the two, seeming uncertain almost. Anne-Marie's eyes shifted back to the man with the dagger, and the skeleton shifted its focus in his direction. Now filled with surety, it bolted forward, jumping onto the the shocked man before exploding, toxic fumes permeating his location as he tried to scramble away.

Anne-Marie gulped, unsure of what to do next, seeing she had clearly interrupted the ritual. The focus of the five people standing around the platform was now on her and the Dunmer, each bearing looks that bode anything but good will.

"I- I think... they might be angry?" she whispered, voice a little high pitched from stress. Her hand gripped tightly around the sword, as if it could help her out of the situation.

She really wished she had her staff!
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Helspar's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw what the human woman did. He had a creeping suspicion that she was skilled in dark magic when she saved him, and now she didn't even bother hiding it. Helspar's jaw dropped, and the arrow he prepared nearly did the same, as the absolutely foul skeleton ran past him, and crashed straight into a (most likely) bad guy. At least they're on the same side, right? Even so, letting her stand behind him with a sword felt a lot less appealing now.

"You did something, alright!" Helspar said nervously. The diminutive human just took out what looked like the cult leader, and spared the carriage driver from the knife. However, the remaining five people in the cavern weren't as happy as the carriage driver.

"Interlopers! The captives have escaped!" The figure immediately behind the dagger-wielding man shouted. This strange individual wore long robes with intricately etched patterns, and in their hands was a staff that looked like a knotty piece of wood with a glowing mushroom on top. "Kill them while I finish the ritual."

"Yeah, I think they're angry about the, uh, smell!" Helspar blurted out, and suddenly aware of the skeleton's putrid scent. "Do you have to make skeletons smell like rotten eggs?"

Four people approached Helspar and his necromancer comrade, all of whom clad in Bomser style leather and bone armor, and wielded very mean looking melee weapons. However, what concerned Helspar was the mage behind them. Said mage raised the mushroom staff, and it lit up as energy gathered from sigils around the cavern floor. Helspar knew this was his target; always interrupt the scary wizard casting the scary ritual.

Taking the best aim he could muster, Helspar let loose an overdrawn arrow at the mage. Instead of hitting flesh target, the arrow skewed slightly and knocked the mushroom staff out of the mage's hands. Still, energy stopped channeling from the sigils, and the mage was momentarily confused.

At the same time, the four melee enemies were closing in fast. At this distance, they smelled as repulsive as the exploding skeleton. They looked like Bosmers to Helspar, and from what Helspar heard about their lifestyle, it must be their poor sanitation. They had the numerical advantage, but there's enough room and obstacles in the cavern for him to lead them on a wild guar chase. Kiting, as the Argonian shield-bearers called it. It was a terrible idea; Helspar didn't have a big shield and thick armor, but he would rather face four blades than whatever magic the mage conjured.

"You can handle the mage, and free the carriage driver, too!" Helspar informed his ally. He saw how nervous the human woman was with her sword, but he himself was also shaking with fear. Nothing they're doing was inspiring confidence, but it was too late to turn back. "I'll keep the rest distracted, for as long as I can..."

Stepping directly into the cavern, Helspar casted magelight instead of reaching for another arrow. The shining light got his foes' attention, and the suddenly brightness got them to briefly stop their attacks. Helspar then peeled off to the left. Three out four followed him, while the last one focused on the human woman. Knowing it was the best he could do, he reach for his quiver again. There was only time for one quick shot before he had to dodge, and Helspar's arrow struck an enemy in the shoulder, pinning them to a nearby boulder.

Angry battle cries and the slashing of blades followed Helspar. He dashed behind a rock pillar, ducked beneath a flaming brazier and ran through a glowing sigil on the ground. The sigil lit up when Helspar stepped on it, and he could hear the fizz of magicka flaring up. The angry Bosmers weren't far behind, though Helspar had gotten enough distance for another shot. This time, he went for the brazier.

The brazier tumbled over right as a Bosmer went by. It fell on the Bosmer and lit the poor elf on fire. Just one more; maybe Helspar could do this after all! All he needed was another arrow and...the quiver was empty!

"Not again!" Helspar complained out loud. His enemy, probably the one of the biggest Bosmer ever, taller than Helspar himself, literally brought down the axe.

Helspar had one thing to put between his head and the axe, his bow. Metal collided against wood, Helspar's bow held and his arms went numb from the impact. The Bosmer axe murderer swung again, and Helspar blocked again. The second strike cut Helspar's bow clean in half, though the axe itself missed the Dunmer. Helspar reeled, he collapsed onto his knees, the Bosmer raised his axe for the third time, and Helspar threw whatever dirt he could grab into the Bosmer's face.

It was effective, the Bosmer was blinded and missed. This would be the moment for Helspar to escape, but he didn't. He could not leave his newfound ally, necromancer or not, to fate, like he had done with Gnarl-Braids. Instead, he mustered every last bit of stamina left in him and charged into Bosmer. Helspar intended to tackle his foe and disarm him, but the Bosmer was swinging his axe wildly. So Helspar could only push the Bosmer into a sigil.

The sigil, however, was having none of it. It glowed brighter than ever as electricity danced. The Bosmer was caught in the midst and began convulsing, which prompted Helspar to step back and shield his eyes. Surely enough, an explosion occurred. The Bosmer and sigil were no more, leaving only a crater in their place.

Only then did Helspar realize a wide gash had been opened on his side. The Bosmer's axe cut through Helspar's jacket and flesh during their tussle earlier, leaving a steady trickle of blood in its wake. He desperately ripped off fabric from his sleeves to cover the gash, while praying his guts weren't spilling out.

"Hey, hey! Are you still there?" Helspar called out for the human woman. The cavern was lot darker with one less brazier and sigil.
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