”Oh, for fook’s sake…” Cedric muttered as Nolan and his goons returned, only this time brandishing weapons. The Reachman scowled, his fun having been ruined with the revelation that there was murderous intent that was sure to draw in the guards, and that was the last thing any of their party needed for their most urgent mission. Getting arrested, again, would not only be a huge pain in the ass, but would put them past three weeks and it was anyone’s guess how long it would take for Lord Cocknose to pay off the guards to kill them off. Probably by starvation, or worse.
And of course Brynn had to make everything worse by provoking the idiot to a fight, and subsequently smashing the unfortunate man across the head with the metal tankard, sweet ale spilling wantonly as Brynn bashed his head in. Cedric reached for the tankard and eschewing manners, began to drink straight from it in an effort to milk his enjoyment of the night for even a few more passing seconds. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but alcohol numbs pain, and by the time he was good and drunk, the threat would have hopefully subsided. Still, it wasn’t his intention. They were going to get the hell out of town, and tonight.
Grabbing his mace and pushing himself from the table, and just in time to avoid getting splattered by blood from the man Maulakanth eviscerated, Cedric tried to skirt the skirmish and find his way to the door, ideally before the guards arrived to enforce order. The orc’s booming roar dissuaded one of the townsfolk from picking a fight and he moved right into Cedric’s path, his face momentarily surprised to have nearly bumped into him before turning angry. The man, wearing some kind of burlap made cap that looked like it was sewn by a drunken whore, and it probably was, brandished a carpenter’s hammer at Cedric.
“You’re with the ginger whore and the big bastard orc!” he exclaimed, trying his best to sound menacing. Had the situation been less dire, it might have even been adorable. The man couldn’t have been more than 18 or 19. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ya!”
Cedric held his mace up for the man to see. ”Mine’s bigger. Now fook off to mother and I’ll forget you existed, yeah?” he said. He felt tired.
Instead of an articulate retort, the man, after hesitantly eyeing the mace decided his odds were good and he rushed Cedric, screaming bloody murder. Cedric stepped aside, grabbing the man by the shirt and tripping him over his foot, sending the man sprawling face-first into one of the tables. The loud crunch of his nose breaking and the scream filled the air, but Cedric decided the man wouldn’t be in a rush to come at him again. He continued to hurry towards the door, hoping he wouldn’t run into any of the green-garbed idiots as he went to collect his companions to get out of town, and fast. It helped that a frost atronach, followed meekly by Kiralla, was clearing a path, hurling men out of the way like a temperamental child with his wooden toys. Cedric was momentarily stunned; he’d never seen such a thing, and a part of him was wondering if perhaps the alcohol was hitting harder than he’d anticipated.
Screaming from his right forced him to turn and more instinctually than with any sort of intent, Cedric managed to deflect the blade of a crude iron spear that had nearly run him through before the man wielding it charged full into the Reachman, toppling them both to the ground. The man tried to punch Cedric repeatedly in the face, but was thwarted by Cedric’s crossed arms and leather braces, which absorbed the impacts. Wrapping his legs around the man’s torso, Cedric used his considerable strength to flip the man to the ground off of him, where he wasted no time in getting the Breton into an armbar behind his back, twisting pressure against the man’s join. ”I don’t want to hurt ya, but I will fook your arm up bad if you keep trying me patience, you manky skeever.” Cedric warned before the tavern door burst open, and several guards with robin egg blue brigandine armour with a boar head sigil burst in, wielding arming swords and bucklers, as well as a compliment of crossbows. All of the seven men and two women wore nasal helms, their visions unimpeded. Outside, four more guards had surrounded Fiona, Gaela, Cyrendil, Finch, and Berich, three with swords, one a bit further back with a crossbow of her own.
Inside the tavern, the captain of the guard, as denoted by the silver sash draped across his brigandine and a red plume protruding from his helmet, stepped forward, a decidedly out of place scimitar in one hand and the telltale glow of frost magic in the other.
“In the name of Lord Marco and High King Egerton, I command you to throw down your weapons! You are under arrest under my authority!” he bellowed, gesturing for his crossbowmen to move into position to take down both Snowflake and Maulakanth. A guard with a buckler and sword approached Cedric and the man he was pinning to the ground cautiously, sword at the ready.
”These dicks started it! The ones in the green, not me, obviously, all because the red head girl would-“ Cedric began.
“Shut your dandy cunt mouth, curr! I will give you all until three to comply, or you can enjoy shallow graves, tramps. ONE!” the captain roared.
The room was still.
”TWO!”
~ ~ ~
Seven minutes earlier…
Guard Captain Renault had settled down for the evening, having assigned his duty roster for the evening, confident the night would be quiet as it was most nights. The funding from Camlorn to keep the peace was certainly adequate, and the roads leading to the city from King’s Guard were well-patrolled. There were troubles across High Rock, especially with the war on with the Empire, but that felt like a world away and something that wouldn’t come to King’s Guard, at least not without ample warning, and so Renault had taken off his armour and was left in a grey cotton undershirt when a raspy voice came from the stairwell headed to the bed chambers.
“Come to bed, my love. Lifts-Her-Tail is ready to serve you, m’lord.”
Oh, bollocks. He’d forgotten it was roleplay night, and his mistress-turned wife was a highly controversial choice for a man of his station; an argonian. At best, he was seen as a man of eccentric tastes, at worst, a sexual deviant under the thrall of Sanguine’s cruel debauchery. Whichever the case, Captain Renault was a bonafide argoniophile. He cared not what others thought, for behind his magnificently trimmed and groomed beard with hints of grey breaking the dark shroud across his face was a man of conviction who found love in the oddest places… and a fetish that started after he found a copy of The Lusty Argonian Maid when he was a young boy. Puberty was a strange mistress, indeed.
“Just a moment, I hope your outfit fits!” he called up, shutting the book he had been struggling to finish for a fortnite and rising up from the uncomfortable wooden chair of his desk. An urgent rapping came on his door.
“Captain! A fight at the Grin! Witnesses say there’s weapons drawn!” a shout pierced the wood, instantly souring Renault’s mood. Cursing in a manner that would be inappropriate with ladies present, the captain slipped on his brigantine and picking his scimitar, a gift from an old Redguard friend he’d adventured with when he was a young sailor shipping rum and spices across the Empire, Renault called up to his wife. “Sorry, Nikina, the damn rabble’s at it again. I shant be long!” he called, irritated to have been disturbed. Someone was going to pay, even if he had to throw them in shackles for the next few weeks.
~ ~ ~
Now…
A voice yelled in the door, “Captain!”
“WHAT NOW?” he demanded, his agitation reaching critical levels. A vein was bulging from his now red face.
“Guard tower and temple are on fire!” the guard said, fearfully. “LeClerc was killed by an archer… hooves, sir.”
“Those fucking centaurs…” Renault growled. It had been months since the town had trouble with them. “Get every guard to the gates, and rally the town to put out those damned fires! I’ll get to them in a moment.”
Screams came from outside, and for those outdoors, it became immediately apparent that the centaurs had broken through into the town, the hulking horsemen in dark body grease to conceal their approach… and to protect them from the fire-shrouded torches they were carrying. There were around 20 in number, most of which carried a curved horn bow in their hands and wore armour on their flanks, and others still carried cruel looking spiked cudgels made out of both wood and femurs of large animals. Many who were caught in the open were fired upon with the twangs of bows, innocents and some guards caught in the open. A trio of the centaurs charged right for the group gathered around the wounded Fiona and the very dead Nolan. Fortunately, the towering atronach snowflake barred their way from certain trampling.
More houses were set alight as torches broke through windows, the thick flammable grease that light the torches spreading as they caught fabrics and other similarly flammable materials. Captain Renault looked outside and scowled bitterly. He shouted at the guards to get outside to deal with it. “You lot help deal with these beasts, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll forget what I saw here. Alright, men! Let’s give these Hooved bastards the what-for!” he shouted, and the guardsmen cheered and shouted in response, most charging out the door into the streets.
A few, however, remained. One, a gravel-throated Imperial, stared down Maulakanth. “I don’t care what the Captain says, you aren’t going anywhere, orc. Murderous beasts like you don’t deserve to live…” he said, his crossbow trained at the orc’s eye socket.
Cedric reacted, having grabbed a tankard off the floor and hurled it at the weapon, trying to throw it off aim. He struck he man’s arm, causing him to twitch enough to launch the bolt, still aimed toward’s Maulakanth’s body. ”Don’t fookin’ kill them!” he shouted, knowing the only way this situation would play out in anyone’s favour was if they didn’t leave a pile of dead guards along the way.
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