Somewhere near four o’clock, she headed back towards the docks, to see if she could be of any help. Upon arrival, she found work scattering traps across the cobblestone, assisting the others that assisted in setting up a line of defense for the anticipated return of the Kamal. An hour passed before there were no more traps to set, and she excused herself to go in search of Leif, as she hadn’t seen him since he left her side to seek answers from the bizarre, Dunmer shopkeeper. Her body ached from the worrisome sleep she had, dreams of bloodied cries, and a lonely Sevine wandering through darkness save for mysterious red clouds that blocked a full moon haunted her.Passing through the gate, Sevine discovered Leif coming down the pathway towards her. A broad grin spread across the Nord man’s face as the two locked eyes. He maneuvered through the thickening bodies of reinforcements preparing for battle, and made his way over to Sevine.
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you. I checked the inn, and the keep said you had left hours ago. I figured you would be down here.” Leif chuckled as he slapped the huntress across the shoulder, pulling her into a quick embrace before releasing her.
“Well, what did you learn?” She asked, peering into his eyes, with her hands firmly planted on her hips when he pulled away from her.
“Apparently, like we heard before, these creatures are called Kamal. In easier terms, they’re snow demons. The old Dunmer told us that these Kamal, come from Akavir.”
“Akavir?” She sounded bewildered, the fact that these Kamal had travelled all the way from the land of Akavir to lay siege, and possibly destroy Windhelm unsettled her nerves.
“Yes, but let me finish Sevine. So these Kamal, they’ve come to Windhelm before.”
“When?”
“Sometime during the Second Era. However, there was talk of a spell, that flooded the river here, that drowned the Kamal, if I heard right.”
“No wonder, with their heavy armor, they would have sunk straight to the bottom. Was there any mention about the ships?”
“Not that I heard. Who is our quartermaster? Some Breton woman was asking if she still had charges?”
“Ah… That would be Edith, we’re old friends from Falkreath. She’s with the company. When we were in the redoubt, I suppose she took some charges to blow up a back entrance so we could come in through two sides. I think she should have a few left. Did this Dunmer say if the Kamal have any weaknesses?”
“Yes… and no. They’re clearly weak to fire, however, our problem is that the Kamal, have more than the warriors that breached the docks earlier today. They also have mages, and warriors with heavier armor.”
“They have fucking mages?” Her eyes lit up in horror, the idea that the snow demons had mages worried her considerably.
“Aye. So, I had a plan. But now that I can see the bay here, it’s frozen over, so it might not work like I had planned.”
“And what
did you have planned, Leif?” Sevine crossed her arms over her chest, cocking an eyebrow, as she was none too pleased at the thought of Leif risking his life for some foolish adventure.
“I was planning on swimming through the water, and planting the charges on the hulls of their ships, but seeing as how that,” He swept his arm towards the frozen water, “is frozen, I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. They could easily shoot me down with their ice shards, and a frozen Leif, I do not want to be.”
“It’s a stupid idea anyways.” Sevine grumbled, none too happy at the thought of losing her friend to the Kamal. “So, is there any way we
can sink their ships?”
“Yeah, the Dunmer was saying that we could fire some type of missile into their portholes, where the ice shards are launched from, that would do some considerable damage.”
“Hmm. Let’s see what we can find, I think that if these blasted beings try us again, fire is going to be on our side this time around.” She said as she pulled Leif up the stairwell to the top of the ramparts.
When they reached the top, Sevine began looking over the preparations the guards had assembled. There were plenty of arrows, and potted jars, when she opened the lid, she identified the liquid as oil with a sniff of her nose. Grinning, a plan in her mind began to form.
“Leif, do you have any goat stomach?”
“Uh…what?” He was caught off guard by the peculiar question she asked him. What could she possibly want with the stomach of a goat at a time like this?
“I need a stomach, or a kidney.”
“What for?”
“I’m going to make a slingshot, well bigger than a slingshot per se, but it’ll work just like one. And find me some twine, and some wooden posts. Oh! Go to the inn, and ask for all of their empty bottles, bring those too.” She ordered, before shooing him off with the wave of her hand.
While Leif went to his house to look for the items Sevine had requested, she began to assemble a pile of objects that could be launched. Two guards approached the huntress, curious to see what the woman was up to, as she worked in a flurry of motions, running to and fro.
“What are you doing lass?” Asked the first guard. Sevine stopped, and looked up at them, almost as if she were mad for their interuption, but then it dawned on her, that the two guardsmen could be a bigger help to her.
“I’m making an improvised slingshot, I’m actually collecting things that I can use to launch.”
“Why are you doing that?” The other guard spoke up, if anything, he seemed curious as to why a woman like herself bothered with such a contraption.
“Because those damned Kamal, don’t like fire. I plan on setting shit on fire, and slinging it at them. If I can set one on fire, they’ll be none too happy.”
“Oh… So what do you need?”
“Anything, and everything. Something that can hold oil, or can catch a flame. Care to help?” She asked, kneeling over the pile she had gathered, from twigs, and branches, to strips of canvas. The two guards exchanged uneasy looks before shrugging in agreement.
“Sure, what can we get for you?”
“Empty bottles, anything with a lid, or something that can shatter, bricks, and logs even. Actually, if you can bring up three crates of ale, or mead, that would work even better, as alcohol is quite flammable as well. Bring me twine, and canvas, any type of fabric. Even tundra cotton would work. If you can, find me some potion bottles, go ask Quintus Navale if he has any to spare, and tell him what I’m up to. I’m sure he’ll help.” Sevine instructed, shortly after, the two guards went to go in search of the items they were tasked to find.
Following the leaving of his newly found friends, Rhasha retreated back upstairs, peeking inside Sylvanis' room to see if she had actually drank herself into an early grave this time - from her snoring, he judged not, thankfully. Upon rolling his friend onto her side - she deserved a death far more noble than choking on vomit - he returned to his own bed, curling up on the thin mattress in the hopes of getting a few hours of sleep before things became bad again.
And with the moons are bloody as they had been last night, Rhasha'Dar had no doubt that things were not going to get better.
As it happened, Rhasha was quite correct. Not that he was happy about it, but all the same, correct.
After a few hours of restless sleep, tossing and turning, he was fully awoken by the howls of wolves beyond the city gates. They sounded as a regular pack of wolves did - but since his
incident a few years ago, the howl of any canine-like creature sent shivers down his back, all the way to the tip of his tail.
Although attempting to fall back asleep, Rhasha found himself simply too perturbed to find sleep again.
"Typical of me to avoid sleep now... this will be the comfiest bed this one will sleep in for a good few weeks, I think." He chided himself silently as he exited his room - taking time to glance inside Sylvanis' room adjacaent to find it empty. As he figured, the road was not going to be a comfortable one. At the very least with the Caravan he had a tent which he shared with his siblings - the combined warmth of them all, the protection of the tent, and the various heaps of blankets and rugs was enough to make the nights comfortable, even out in the elements. Now, he had but a bedroll with him.
"Hmm... at least this one has fur. Poor Men and Mer folk don't know what they're missing." Chuckling lightly to his thought as he left the building, Rhasha made his way back to the walls. Even from the Hall, he could hear the sounds of the people working there - either making hasty repairs to whatever was left of the broken piers, or putting traps down in preparation for the next attack... if there was one.
Unsure as to where Sylvanis had disappeared too (Although knowing for damn sure she'd be somewhere close to the ground), Rhasha ascended the stone steps of the walls, hoping to see her from above. Or, any of his newly found friends from last night, as it had happened. A few guards nad mercenaries walked by his way, but didn't even pay heed to him - a strange thing, in a town like Windhelm. If a Nord walked by a cat, they usually did something insulting or patronising... however, it seemed these Kamal had finally shook the stoic Nords enough for them to forget their petty racism.
At least for now, that is.
By the time Leif had returned with the items Sevine had requested, extra linens, and even the stomach of a goat that he found in his house, which he was quite surprised he even had, he had taken the time to boil lard in the cauldron that hung over the stone hearth in his home, bringing the elasticity back into the skin that Sevine required. His steps were light, and quick as he traversed the stone stairs to the ramparts, and spotted two other guards next to Sevine. From the looks of it, she had enlisted their help as well, for now he counted more than five crates of liquor bottles stationed around her. Some were empty, and some were full. There were also swaths of canvas, and other types of flammable materials like cotton, linens, empty flour sacks, a couple spools of twine, even a few potion bottles, some empty, and some with a curious red liquid inside, as well as bricks, and logs that had been cut into smaller, more manageable pieces. As he set the items down next to Sevine, he nudged her boot, drawing her attention to him. When her eyes landed on the goat stomach, her eyes lit up with excitement, and a sparkle of relief, there was nothing more satisfying to Leif, than seeing Sevine happy. He knew that she was a smart woman, especially when it came to battle tactics, as she had devised some crafty plans before during the war.
“You actually have a stomach?” She extended her hands out to him to receive the thin, oiled piece of stomach. Her eyes swept over the stomach, and examined it for any tears, of which she found none.
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to find anything really. This is left over from a stew I made a week before you got here. I soaked it in some lard, and I think it’s got the quality you were looking for, right?” Leif asked her, a triumphant smile on his face. She nodded vigourously, her head bobbing like a floating piece of wood on water in choppy waves.
“Aye, this will do just fine.”
“So what do you need now?”
“Help me rig up a post to fling these bombs from.” Sevine said as she indicated to the two broomstick handles the guards had brought her as well.
She passed one handle to Leif, and retrieved her dagger from her hip, where she cut the stomach open, widening it into one piece. She pinched the corner of the stomach together while Leif held the post upright, and reached for a spool of twine. Then, Sevine began wrapping the twine around the makeshift post, while holding the stomach in place. She spoke not a word until the stomach was secured, even pulling on it to make certain it wouldn’t slip out of place. She then moved onto the next post, and repeated the task, until the other side was secured. Now that she had the stomach secured to both ends of the posts, Sevine now needed to find a place to keep it upright. Her eyes swept over the ground, looking for anything that would keep the posts in place without moving it. She considered using the bricks, but that wouldn’t suffice. Her gaze landed on the logs that the guards had brought to her, and found that they had brought her two, lengthy wooden planks, each roughly the length of her leg, from hip to foot. She set the makeshift sling aside, and set about drilling a hole in the planks.
Her brow was slick with sweat, and the occasional bead rolled down, and stung her in the eye. When Leif, and her had finished drilling holes into the planks, she looked up just in time to see Rhasha’Dar from the inn, it was hard
not to spot the Khajiit amongst the others on the walls, for he towered over them, and he was even easier to spot with his pointed cat ears. A grin erupted on her face, as she called out to Rhasha, the fond memory of his soft fur still prevalent in her mind. He didn't seem like such a bad cat, and didn't deserve the reputation that the other citizens of Windhelm bestowed upon his people.
“Rhasha! Would you care to help me?” She shouted, waving her hand in the air to draw his attention to her. A confused frown emerged on Leif’s face when he realized who Sevine had addressed. A Khajiit? Of all people? Well, more like of all beasts in this sense…
“You know this cat?” He asked.
“Aye, that’s Rhasha’Dar. I met him at the inn earlier today when the battle broke, he’s actually with the company.” Sevine answered without catching the dark glower coming from Leif.
“Oh great.” He mumbled the words quietly between a long sigh.
Leif wasn’t racist in any way, shape, or form, but he did have a suspicion of Khajiits, and didn’t trust them, especially when it came to exchanging wares with them. During the war, when Sevine had traded often with the Khajiit caravans that travelled across Skyrim, he had always felt that they had over-priced their items, and was only reluctant to buy anything from them when he absolutely needed to. Regardless, since Rhasha’Dar was with their company, he might as well give the poor cat a chance. But Talos forbid if the Khajiit had wandering paws, and claimed anything that didn’t belong to him, well, he might be missing a paw when he woke up.
"There's a lot of dead men down there." Mire said, peering over the stone ramparts at the crowd below. He shook his head like he was looking at a group of children going about something all wrong. Jorwen was starting to think the same way, knowing what he knew from being on the docks yesterday. There'd be a lot of dead men by sunrise, no mistake about it, and contrary to the stories and deeds of his past, Jorwen didn't earn a name by charging headlong into every fight. "This what you did yesterday? Just sat and waited patiently?"
"Aye." Jorwen frowned down, "Can't say I'd have the stomach to do it again. Fighting men's one thing, these are another."
Mire had a laugh like a crow softly cawing at that, "Think you folk might've learned your lesson. 'Specially for mercenary work, you can't get paid if you're dead. Ain't any amount of gold or women can get me to do something I don't want to."
"Aye, sure." Jorwen shrugged, "But dying rich is still dying."
"Better'n dying poor." Jorwen couldn't find anything to say to that. Maybe because it had a bit of truth to it and it gave him a little worry to think how much he was agreeing with Sutt and his boys. "How long they been paying you?"
"Couple months now. Shit pay, but I can't say I had a fucking palace when I was a tailor either." He shrugged and sat with his back resting against the battlements. Good strong stone between him and those things felt far safer than a circle of wood and rawhide. "It's what it is."
"Always reckoned a man should stick to what he's good at." He cast an accusing eye Jorwen's way, or maybe he just thought it was accusing, "You don't mend many shirts in a war. We all know Ulfric didn't want you around because his cloak needed stitching."
Jorwen felt heat on his face and his hands bunch themselves into fists as he stood, "What do you know about me, farmer-boy?" He snarled in Mire's face, but it was as flat and cold as always. A thin-lipped smile twitched at the corners of the Mire's lips.
"Man's got to be what he is." And he looked away like Jorwen wasn't even there. Jorwen cleared his throat and went back to sitting. He snorted something into his face and spat, seeing Sevine rushing about. He cocked a brow and watched her for a bit before he heard Mire's voice, "Pretty one, ain't she."
"You step one inch out of line and I'll kill you, Mire." Jorwen growled as he got to standing. "Or she will, more like."
"Who's she?" Mire asked, a smile across his face that was as revolting as it would be sly on anyone else. "You, uh..." And he gave a small thrust of his hips. Jorwen dug his fingernails into his palm and took in a breath, slow.
"She's a friend. Wife'd have my cock on a pike if I was doing that to anyone but herself. But her?" He nodded Sevine's way, "She's the Wolf-Tooth, the Huntress. From the war. She served a different Chief than me, but we saw each other a couple times."
"Skyrim's a small place for warriors with names. Stone-Fist, Black Sutt, Red-Bear, all you old shits care a lot for names and the old ways." Mire shrugged, "That's the Wolf-Tooth there, won't touch her, Chief. Sort of funny, though, don't hardly miss it til' it's there in front of you, eh?"
"Just shut the fuck up, Mire." Jorwen waved at Sevine and nodded, walking over and feeling the shadow of Mire and his men watching him, but as far as he could tell, they'd disappeared in the crowd as well as Cleftjaw could. But he felt their eyes and looked for them until he was next to Sevine, "What's to do, Wolf-Tooth?"
Honestly speaking, Keegan was ready to book it the moment he saw Kamal ships sailing up the White River. Sailing, wait, it seemed like they had internal propulsion that didn't even require sails. The chimneys on these corvette-sized vessels emitted smoke, and that in turn meant heat was generated from the inside. In his brief encounter with the dwarven ruin, and the research that accompanied it, similar steam-powered engines were constructed by the Dwemer. Knowing the possiblity of such ancient and advanced techology being commonplace with the enemies, Keegan was only made more determined to run as far as he could. Unfortunately for him and other cowards, their moments of realization happened after Windhelm was blockaded. Keegan cursed himself for staying too long with Ashav. Why did he have to be so greedy? First "easy money" in the Reach, now "routine assignment" turned siege in a bleak Nordic city. As if being stumped over by debt enforcers wasn't bad enough (his face still bruised from the beating yesterday), now there's an army of eastern armor-trolls while the Dragonborn engrosses himself in his military adventure. Whoever told him mercenary works are a breeze can have a talk with his staff.
Nevertheless, it's now much logical to fight than to run. With that said, Keegan knew his place was not on the frontlines. Being on the docks during the first wave was terrifying to say the least. He couldn't quite wrap his head around those who fought blade to blade with the giants. He couldn't, and he didn't do that, thankfully, and it certainly paid off by staying alive. Keegan figured sitting high on the ramparts gives him just the right distance, one that was far enough to avoid decapitation and near enough to provide supporting spells. The downside was hearing unending insults from the guards; Nords (what a surprise). Compared to before, some of these brutes were humbled by the larger brutes. Still, there were no shortage of "knife-ear" and "piss-skin". He kept his head down and restrained himself from throwing back anything venomous, Auriel knows which one would prompt an encouraged descent down the walls. So it was a bit more welcoming for Keegan to see Jorwen and two more Nords crafting some sort of object. Jorwen was an decent fellow, their short chat in the Reach was pleasant. The other two Keegan was unsure about, but assuming they were in the company, dealing with comrade trumped dealing with strangers.
"Jorwen." Keegan acknowledged the Red-Bear when he came closer. Turning to the other two, he nodded and looked over their components; guts and planks, not something warlike. "Need any help here?"
Sevine kept her head down as she carried on with her work, if Rhasha came to help or not, it didn't matter, he would come of his own accord, if she knew cats, she assumed they were the same as Khajiits, and couldn't be called like dogs. Her hands fluttered to and fro, grabbing at the empty bottles, tearing strips of canvas away, and securing it in place with a wrap of twine. Leif busied himself by taking the finished products from Sevine, and sat them inside a now empty crate. At the sound of an all too familiar voice, she glanced up from her work, and then glanced again in surprise to see Jorwen standing before her. A gasp escaped from her lips at the giant man.
"I didn't expect to see you up here! But am I glad that you're safe." She said as she rose up from her seated position, dusted off the knees of her trousers, and embraced Jorwen quickly before releasing him, her eyes looked him up and down, making certain that he wasn't missing any limbs. "I didn't see you on the walls before, so I assume that you were in the battle? Where's Solveig? Is she ok?"
Before Jorwen had time to give her an answer, she waved her hands, as if trying to dismiss the question she just asked. Yet, before she could answer, she noticed an Altmer that had come to stand next to Red-Bear. She recalled seeing the Altmer man before, during their travels from the redoubt, so she knew he was with the company. Curiously enough, Leif had stopped in his work, and joined Sevine, he recognized Jorwen, because Sevine had fought with him in battle, as Leif was apart of her company, and had exchanged words with the beast of a man during patrols, though only few, so he doubted that he would remember him, he simply nodded to him in acknowledgement, and to the Altmer as well.
"Yes, we could use all of the help we could get!" She said enthusiastically, before hooking her thumb at Leif, "This is Leif, I'm not sure if you remember him Red-Bear, we served in the war together too, same division. Saved my life countless time, and I his. Anyways, point being, Leif here found out that those damned Kamal's don't like fire all too much. We all saw, and heard about their adverse reaction to the fire salts that you had found down on the docks. So, I was thinking, well more than thinking, as I've already started it, but I made a big-ass slingshot rig, and well... I was kinda hoping to firebomb their asses. I had a few of the guards fetch me some more supplies, and now we've got all sorts of goodies. What we need help with is making the bombs. I've started on that, but as you can see..." Here she swept her hand towards the finished set of bombs, which was few in comparison to the rest of the supplies she had strewn about. "And, the more I look at this rig, the more I've been thinking, that I'm gonna need more than one person to help me with this."
"You see, we're gonna need a person to load the sling with ammunition, possibly to set it on fire as well, two people to hold the sling in place," She pointed to the two wooden planks, "so it doesn't slide about while we're launching, and another to pull the sling back. Mara forbid if we run out of supplies, so we may need someone to run and gather supplies." Sevine then directed her attention to the Altmer, and extended her hand to him.
"I know you're with the company, I've seen you around. The names Sevine. Do you know anything about potions? I had the guards go to Quintus Navale, he works the local apothecary, and he was able to spare us some potion bottles, some empty, some full, and I have no idea what's in them?"
Although pleased to see Sevine beckon to him, Rhasha noticed the glare directed at him by the blond Nord she stood with. The look was not friendly, but hardly an unfamiliar one. Regardless of this, he made his way to Sevine - stopping a few times to give aid to various people, who had yelled for any kind of help to lift loads from the bottom of the wall, or various things like that.
By the time he made it to Sevine, she had been joined by an Altmer, and an absolute bear of a man. He recognised the towering Nord as the one who had aided Solveig earlier... her Father, perhaps?
Overhearing Sevine's final question, Rhasha's ears pricked up slightly. Finally, something he could truly aid with. Peering at the potion bottles before them, it was easy - for him, at least - to pick out which were which.
"The smaller red ones are health potions. These ones, with the rounded bottoms, are weakness to fire poisons. Useful to coat your blades or arrows in them - it'll make the mages jobs much easier." He said to the group. He did notice a few bottles that were empty, but he doubted he had enough time to brew anything other than simple health potions. They'd have a much better use being filled with something more... destructive.
"With these empty ones, you should put oil, or alcohol - anything flammable - in them. Then soak rags with the liquid and place it in the neck. When lit and thrown, they'll make for a very sticky fire the Kamal will not be able to shake off." He suggested, folding his arms across his chest as he considered their options. Yes, they were far more prepared than before - but were they prepared enough?
Deciding that dwelling on this would cause nothing but worry, Rhasha directed a smile towards Sevine.
"This one hopes his advice was helpful." He added.
Not only did Sevine listen closely to Rhasha'Dar, so did Leif. He was surprised that the Khajiit knew his potions, because Leif had to be told what they were, unless he made them himself, but then again, he could only make health potions. Sevine grasped Rhasha's bicep, and patted him with the same hand.
"Thank you, friend." Her hand lingered unknowingly on his bicep, as the touch of his fur delighted her, still as soft as the fur on his ears, if not softer, she almost started to pet him again, but then recalled that Leif, and the others were present, and watching. Can't get carried away like before...
"Do you think, if we portioned out the potion bottles that contain the poison of weakness to fire, it would work the same? Or should we reserve these bottles for when we really need them?" Leif piped up, he didn't deal much with poisons, but since they had so little in their supplies, it would be a good idea to utilize them the best way possible. He figured that since Rhasha was apart of their company now, it didn't hurt to be friendly now. So if they poured a tiny amount of the poison into the empty potion bottles, and perhaps mix it with the alcohol available, it would provide a larger supply of fire bombs.
At Sevine's lingering touch, Rhasha blushed in the face slightly - although, praise be to Azurah, his fur covered up any redness of the cheeks. Clearing his throat slightly as he looked back to Leif, he considered the idea. It was an interesting one, that was to be sure. But could obscure ideas like this be tested out directly in the theatre of war?
"This one would consider attempting it, for it is a genius idea. However... at the risk of ruining the potency of the poison, this one would recommend trying it another time. Or, at the very least, only doing it to a little bit of the poison. Leave some for weapons, yes?" He answered Leif, glad the Nord was speaking to him in a fairly neutral tone.
"Let's try it with at least one bottle, if it doesn't work, then it'll at least be flammable nonetheless." Leif nodded in agreement at Rhasha's wise words, he had to admit, the Khajiit was smarter than he thought, and at least he knew his potions. Potions.
He found the Khajiit tolerable, but his eyes had caught Sevine's wandering hand. Was she about to pet him? He withheld a chuckle, but could only grin at her, and when her eyes met his, she blushed. So she liked cats, eh? It made sense to him, as he recalled the time when their division had holed up in an abandoned farm house somewhere in between Morthal, and Dragonbridge, on their way to Solitude. Sevine found a half-starved farm cat, and gave it a share of her jerky she had with her. She doted on the creature all evening until they departed the following morning, and he had witnessed her eyes full of tears. Later in the next evening, she had confided in him, how much she wished she could have taken the cat home with her.
Taking Sevine's extended hand, Keegan gave it a gentle shake before quickly withdrawing (he heard Nords tend to break others' hands when shaking). The Huntress, someone who Keegan saw prior in the Reach camp, and his Nord man companion, were already proving to be outliers of their race. They were polite, but still looked like meatheads; polite meatheads. Sevine then proceeded to ask him about potions, before Keegan could tell them he didn't know, a Khajiit appeared out of nowhere and responded to the inquiry. Khajiits, Keegan never liked cats. Of course, he wasn't going to kick them like Dumhuvud had. But the mangy texture of their fur, the spit smell from their self-grooming and the worst of all, sharp claws that were equally effective in both hooking out purses and eyeballs. He narrowed his eyes and kept away from this "Rhasha". Though getting too far would mean he would bump into sweaty Nords, so Keegan stood akwardly in his own space between everyone else.
Like Leif, Keegan was surprised to hear Rhasha's alchemical expertise. He nodded when the Khajiit spoke, taking mental notes of the bottles laid out on the ramparts. "I could ignite the projectile." He offered, a small spark cracking in his palm. "I am not much with destruction." He said. "But I persume mechanical launchers would serve us better; longer range and versatile. We should start with the lesser ammunition, to gauge the trajectory before flinging the greaters. I just hope we do not hit our own men." He whispered the last part. Indeed, Keegan had more than a little doubt about their rickety contraption.
"Good idea, we could use all the help we could get. Here I was thinking that we would use torches, but it would be quicker if you could give us a little jump. We'd still use the torches, but we'll save that for the bigger stuff. Yes, if we shoot the lighter projectiles first, we can see how this here doo-jicky will hold up, and what the range is exactly. If it holds up, we'll save the bigger stuff for last." Sevine nodded to Keegan. He seemed smart for an Altmer, that much she could say.
Khajiit. He'd only met a few decent ones and those he could count on one hand and not use all his fingers. Khajiit had constantly tried to kill him in the war down south, A Khajiit gave him the wound that he still coughs because of. All the rest were shifty-eyed and quick-fingered. This one was fine, and he scanned the walls for Do'Karth, hoping he'd decided to stay on the walls and not be found among the dead. Instead, he only caught a glimpse of one of Mire's men before he disappeared again. He shook his head and looked back to what was at hand, a rickety contraption, the Wolf-Tooth locking eyes with this Khajiit and the Nord fellow narrowing his eyes at them. He might not remember anyone named Leif, more than likely because he kept better company than Jorwen, but he knew the look he had in his eyes.
He clapped the man on the shoulder to get him out of his stewing, "A Stormcloak, eh? Being honest, I don't remember the name or the face, but I reckon I'll always remember a Shield-Brother." He nodded to the crates of fire salts and a few fires some of the men had gotten going for big pots of oil. "I don't know about the slingshots, but we've got salts and oil. If the salt touches them, they act like they were set ablaze. Reckon a good cloud of it would slow them down, the oil would play hell with them."
Before delving into the remainder of the evening in too much detail, it bears repeating that Utu-ja was not the drinking kind. Faced with his less than impressive conduct, he spent the remainder of the evening trying to drown the alcohol in food and water. The morning brought a stomachache but at least he avoided a hangover. He was also up with the dawn. His frustration was still there but now it was buried beneath determination. He was going to kill them when they came back and he wasn't going to stop at one.
But, first he needed supplies. His overdraw would let him use steel arrows against the ones from before but they weren't very effective. He went to a store that sold hunter's tools and caused a few raised eyebrows. Not many people were asking for heavy hunting blunts with a siege on. Utu had seen powerful blows crush the helmets that those beasts were wearing. He might not be able to do that from a distance but he could at least ring their heads like bells, and these arrows were cheap. He was able to purchase forty of them for very few septims indeed. The shopkeeper said he had been trying to get rid of them for a long time and complained that most of the other arrows had been either purchased by mercenaries or confiscated for use by the soldiers on the walls. There were some damaged arrows in the back room but they weren't useable.
Utu checked the arrows he purchased for damage as he walked the streets. The fletching wasn't perfect but they should still fly straight. It would be wishful thinking to believe that they had already seen the enemy's best. Either that, or the once frozen Argonian had developed a pessimistic streak.
He was going to have to find out who the god of drink was. He had met several fine people last night and he had seen their character thanks to booze. He owed that god a prayer or two. He had met an Argonian of manners and hospitality, a Khajiit who possessed principles and dignity, and a lady of perception and subtlety who had aided him without seeking to shame him. Though, that last had caused his embarrassment, in spite of her subtlety. Utu knew that to be his own fault though. He had also had the good fortune to share company of Sagax, a good hearted person and lucky enough to survive at the redoubt. He may one day call people like them friends, though he had little faith that his luck was strong enough for that. Still, he had people that he wanted to share time with again. For that, they would have to survive.
He busied himself with recovery and preparation in equal measure until evening came.
As the sun began to set, he armed himself and moved to the walls that overlooked pier 7. His misshapen form drew some soft comments from the Nords on the wall but his elven bow and the brooding sky answered them well enough that none grew loud enough to make out. Utu knew that here would be the best place for him. He hadn't seen Daelin since that moment during the battle, just before the only successful part of his desperate and opportunistic little plan landed him in the drink for the second time. But, he had seen enough to know that he would be more useful shooting arrows than dodging rocks.
Besides, here on the walls, he found a gathering of familiar people. And, they were playing with wood and leather and potions. Still, Jorwen was there and he was no fool. The others did not seem mad or foolish either, once he took a closer look. Their discussion sounded worthwhile too, as he approached them along the wall. He missed a lot of the discussion but what he did hear was interesting enough.
"Would that Weakness to Fire poison be better delivered by arrow before the oil?" Utu spoke up without preamble.
He found his attention diverted from Sevine, and Rhasha'Dar when Jorwen clasped a bear-like paw of a hand on his shoulder. Talos be damned, that man had the strength of one too. Nodding at his words he offered him an aloof shrug with a dashing grin, "Aye. I remember you alright. Wouldn't be surprised if you didn't know me, not many do. That lady over there stole a lot of my glory." Here, he offered Jorwen a playful wink, he was only joking of course. "But like I said, I remember you. Hard not to know who you are, what with the beard and all. Sevine often talked about you, guess our divisions ended up occupying the same field on a rare occasion, said you were a beast of a man. Shield-Brothers, that's right. Talos bless us for saving our homeland. Now only if we can keep them," He gestured blindly at the Kamal ships in the bay, "out of here, that would just be fine and dandy with me."
Sevine recognized Utu-ja by the sound of his voice, and smiled at him in a welcoming manner. "Good to see you've kept your head, Utu-ja." She shook her head at his question, "No, not unless you aim for those with little to no armor. I tried yesterday, and it's damned near impossible to aim for a nook or cranny, and actually have it do some damage. It's like sticking a needle in a bear, they won't notice it much. In case you do see those with lighter armor, by all means, try your aim, but the idea is to set them bastards on fire. So by coating it with the poison, and then dipping it in oil, and letting it catch flame, you'd be striking them with double the damage."
With all of the ammunition now readily assembled, Sevine sat hunched down along the wall, her eyes looking out at the bay. In the far off distance, the chilling sound of wolves howling prickled the hair on her arms. She could feel it now, the calm before the storm. Leif sat next to Sevine, with his back against the stone wall, his eyes shut in a light slumber. He wanted to have all of his energy ready in case things went south. Then, the distinctive black smoke from the Kamalian ships rose into the air against the bloody night sky. She inhaled sharply, and roused Leif from his nap.
"Leif, wake up. It's time." Sevine whispered, though there was no need to do so, it was more out of habit. She was accustomed to working night patrols from the war, and old habits died hard. His blue eyes snapped open, and with one hand, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and turned around to see three ships enter the bay.
"Damn shit." He muttered quietly, and sat on his knees, hunkering down next to his friend, the two watching in silence, waiting for the scene to unfold. It didn't take long for the Kamal themselves to emerge onto the gunmetal grey decks of their ships, rows after rows of them lined the decks, most carried towering shields.
The first line of attackers to depart from the armored ships were the frost Atronachs, they were horrifyingly tall, as tall as Leif's house to be exact. Sevine gritted her teeth, and called sharply to the others that had offered their help to operate the sling, her voice no louder than a hiss.
"Look sharp! They're here."
A curious scene played out below, as one of the two daedric golems that had disembarked, paused, and swung it's icy arm into the other. They began to battle one another, chunks of glowing ice were scattered across the docks, before nothing remained of them. Her eyes darted around the docks, trying to determine what was the source of their self-suicide attacks. There, she discovered a woman behind one of the barriers, that glowed an eerie blue. It had to be her! But how was she controlling them? It mattered not to Sevine, at least those golems were taken care of. As she watched, Sevine noted a formation of approaching Kamal, the first line being shield-bearers carrying curious, tear-dropped shields. Behind them were a line of spearmen, their pointed spearheads rising upwards into the air like omnious fangs; and behind them, were mages, that much she determined when they made a path of ice, clearing the traps she had helped set earlier that late afternoon.
"Utu, look!" She sidled over to the Argonian, and kept her voice down. It is was best not to draw attention to themselves, not until they made their appearance in battle by unleashing their volley of fiery hell they had assembled. "They have mages in their back line, I think you could take them out. Try your arrows first, and if nothing works, here's a bottle of that poison. Be sure to dip it in some oil. Keegan can help you ignite it." She pressed one of the bottles into Utu-Ja's scaly hand and returned to the wooden sling.
"Jorwen, Leif, hold this in place." She instructed as she grabbed a bottle of ale, filled with alcohol, best to save the ones filled with oil for later.
As her gaze shifted to the battle below, she witnessed something she had never seen before. What. Was.
That? Sevine squinted, and realized that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her, instead, she could only stare open mouthed at the unravelling scene below. Watching with astonishment, she watched as a werewolf, yes that's right, a
werewolf, emerged from pier seven near the warehouse. Her eyes darted from the mages that began casting brilliant bolts of lightning into the barricades, and back to the werewolf that knocked over humans, and Kamals alike. As the werewolf scrambled across the invaders, they became disoriented, dividing the shield-bearers, and the spear-wielders apart from one another. Luckily, a few Kamal were knocked into the bay, and met their deaths through drowning, thank goodness they had that heavy armor. She watched as the werewolf made its way through the ranks of Kamal warriors to the line of mages, where her eyes caught the sight of a bright, blue ray of light emanating from the chestplate of one of the mages.
"There! That's where we need to strike. Rhasha, can you load the sling?" She asked, looking over her shoulder frantically. If they could keep the Kamal from reforming, they would have a better chance of taking out their mages. Moving to the sling, Sevine grasped the oily goat stomach with both hands, and pulled on it, testing its elasticity before nodding to Rhasha. Leif stood beside her on one of the planks to hold the sling in place, he could only watch the scene below in horror, he hadn't expected the Kamal to return with so many numbers.
Rhasha could not find rest as easily as Leif - the combination of the sacred moons bleeding in the sky; the approaching Ice demons; and the chilling howls of the wolves in the distance was enough to keep his fur up on end. By the time the Kamal landed, he was already buzzing with adrenaline - watching on in amazement with Sevine as the female Mage began controlling one of the Atronachs.
"Amazing... this is a woman with some power." He thought to himself, then frowned slightly. Hmm... not all that power is a good thing - not in the hands of one person. This became apparant as she passed out soon after casting her spell.
And then all thoughts fled Rhasha's mind for a moment, as an uncharacteristic flight of terror took him - upon hearing an awfully too familiar howl.
One of their comrades below had morphed into a Werewolf, and Rhasha became frozen to the spot as he watched. She tore through the crowds, Kamal and men alike, bringing back none too fond memories.
He barely heard Sevine's request, glancing at her after a few delayed moments before taking the missile they intended to launch. Hopefully nobody had noticed his small bout of terror - but his ears were still pinned back in apprehension. For all his fur covered the changes in skin colour the Men and Mer suffered from, his ears and even tail were enough to betray his mood at times.
Utu was quick to grasp his place in this plan and shake off the awe inspired by such a display of power as those atronarchs. Unfortunately, his first clean shot was blocked before he could loose the arrow by a sudden and violent werewolf rampage. It was the first time that Utu had seen so many people fail to suffer injury while standing in a werewolf's path. He almost felt grateful to the cursed beast. But, that moment passed swiftly and his bow returned to its raised position with a steel arrow drawn back past his ear by a good six inches.
The path was clear. The target was occupied with the battleline ahead. For an instant, the wind eased. Utu loosed the shot. It struck just behind the beast's right arm as it turned with its arm raised to cast a spell, plunging into it's side slightly below the armpit. That place had no armor. The arrow bit deep with the added power of Utu's overdraw and the beast-mage missed, sending its spell to shatter uselessly against the wall. It could be a mortal wound but Utu was not sure. It was still standing. But then it began to stagger, struggling for breath. A lung shot. If it had been a man it would have pierced clear through to the heart. It fell to one knee and stopped casting but it would probably take several minutes for that wound to kill it.
It was down and mostly out of the fight. But, if there were fire involved, that wound might have been far more decisive. Utu prepared his next arrow with oil and looked at Keegan as he readied his second overdrawn shot, another mage that was preparing a spell. He spoke to the Altmer calmly, his attention completely absorbed by lining up the shot and holding the overdraw.
"One down but not dead yet. Light."
Sparks began to crack in Keegan's hand as he smothered it as close to Utu-ja's arrow as possible. He moved methodically, carefully not to pierce himself on the arrowhead and injecting poison into his veins. Once the arrow was burning with a sizable flame, one that could withstand the blow of the winds, Keegan left it and nodded to a concentrated Argonian.
"Ready." He told Utu.
However, this lethal projectile failed to hit its mark. Instead of hitting a Kamal mage, the arrow found it buried in a broken piece of barrier directly behind the berth. Wood quickly caught on fire, several Kamal warriors standing near it scattered further apart, opening a lane down the middle. Unfortunately, it also forced defenders behind cover into open engagements.
The retaliation came swiftly, a large spike of ice flew towards Utu and Keegan. Before they could duck, someone already tackled them to the ground, saving the two from a close shave. It was Daelin, who arrived on the ramparts. He gave the two a small grin, before helping them up on their feet. For a short-statured Bosmer, Daelin was uncharacteristically strong.
"Too low," Daelin commented on Utu-ja's shot when they both stood. He lined his own bow down the walls and gestured with an arrow. "You overcompensated for height, try aiming higher."
"Get down!" Yelled Leif, and Sevine in unison as they dropped towards the ground to avoid the impending ice spikes, the ice shards sailed over head, and smashed into the wall behind them. The two comrades exchanged knowing glances, thankful that they hadn't been impaled, or struck in any way. To her surprise, they had the aided support of another member of their company, Daelin, the Bosmer. She knew that he was with the company, but hadn't said much to him asides from a friendly hello, or a nod in acknowledgement. Thankfully, he had tackled the two of them, and prevented them both from suffering the fate of being frozen, or worse. A smile of relief appeared on her face as she turned her attention back to the sling where Rhasha had placed one of the bottles into the stomach of the sling.
Gingerly, and with careful movements, Sevine eased the sling back, still unsure if the sling would even hold under pressure, her eyes scanned the area below, trying to determine where to aim. She decided that the mages would be her best shot; she had noticed too that , until her rear brushed against the ground. Leif caught her gaze, and nodded at her, it seemed that it would hold after all. With a slow sigh, Sevine turned her head to correct her aim. She looked over her shoulder to see one of the guardsmen standing idly by with a torch in hand, watching their group work, when she shouted at him.
"Bring that damned torch over here!" She growled menacingly. He must have been a new fellow, for he jumped at her words, and scurried over to her like a kicked puppy with its tail betwixt its legs. "Light that piece of cloth there."
She had no time for pleasantries, let alone being nice in the face of battle. The strip of canvas that had been pushed down into the neck of the mead bottle caught fire immediately, and with a slight
whoosh the flames of the torch took hold. She waited until the flame had taken a firm hold on the canvas, and released the sling. The bottle sailed forth through the air, but she had no time to see where it landed as she fell backwards onto her rear before she called once more to Rhasha in an excited manner. When Sevine released the sling, Leif had his hands planted firmly on broomstick handle that held up his side of the sling, so that it wouldn't slide or move during the launch. His weight alone prevented the wooden plank upon which he sat from moving as well, as he remained in a crouching position. He could have sworn that the fire singed some of his hair when Sevine released the fiery bottle of mead, for the distinct smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils.
"Reload!" Her pulse began to race as the excitement of launching fiery projectiles over the wall filed her with a sense of madness, and a touch of pyromancy. If she could, she would set the whole damned place on fire. Of course, being careful not to take out any of their own.
He looked down on all of it and felt guilty that he wasn't in the thick of it. But what could one man do? Nothing, most likely. Like a devil on his shoulder, Mire congealed out of the shadows of rushing men and his voice dripped out of the myriad yells like poison, "We got salts."
"You fixing to throw them?" Jorwen asked, still looking down.
"Was fixing to sell it. 'Course, no one to sell it to with these things about, eh?"
"Mm. Bring it here, you see that mass, the close one there?" He pointed to one of the formations and Mire nodded, "Dump them there. Spread it like a cloud, make them break."
"Aye, Chief." Mire waved over his two companions, "Temper, Blacktongue! Dump that shit over there."
"Right, right." Brittle said, his smile full of gaps. It was only now Jorwen noticed how ugly and evil his company was. But you don't pick your band, he guessed, no more than you pick your family. Temper brought himself over, hefting the crate full of clay pots filled with the orange salts. Brittle took one and tried to pocket it but Temper grasped the man's wrist in a fist the size of a big rock. He didn't have to speak, his bulging eyes did everything for him and Brittle laughed sheepishly as he put the pot back.
Temper was a big man, and he lobbed the crate hard enough to prove he was a strong man too. The pots broke apart and sent its dust crawling over the ground, the formation forsaking any cohesion and giving the cloud a wide berth, but the things were still able to kill well enough when not in formation. Even so, it was the type of thorn in all of their arses Jorwen wanted to put there. Suddenly, one of the ships exploded so fiercely, Jorwen could feel it in his chest from the distance he was standing. Even Temper was awestruck at its brilliance and the four of them stood, appreciating the destruction.
"Shit." Jorwen said.
When Sevine released the next round of flaming projectiles, and righted herself, she witnessed the explosion down in the bay. She let out a loud whoop in delight, surprised that someone, and quite foolish at that, had managed to blow up one of the Kamal ships. Thankfully, Jorwen had thought quickly, and had one of his men, though Sevine had never seen them before, chuck a clay pot full of fire salts over the walls. It broke into a red cloud of dust, and sent the Kamal scattering as they tried to avoid the toxic dust. Yet, her gaze shifted to something more peculiar down in the bay. Was that a...
vampire lord? The beast was hideous in appearance with its green body, and massive wings hovered above the Kamal, as a wave of red energy emanated from their bodies. She knew that typical vampires couldn't fly, or transform like that, so the one in the bay had to be a vampire lord, though she had never seen one until now. She had only heard of tales of these infamous creatures. Her gaze shifted towards Leif, who watched with her now in the same dazed wonderment.
"Are you seeing this?" She asked.
"Aye. At least that thing is helping us. If it turns on us, we'll be in a whole world of hurt." Leif simply shook his head, what an evening this was turning out to be. First a werewolf, then someone managed to explode one of the ships, and now a vampire lord.
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