Warriors and Thieves: Chapter Six

  • Warriors and Thieves

    Chapter Six

    A Twist of Fate

    Gromph lowered his mighty axe. He hadn’t liked killing that man. Many years ago he would gladly have slain him, all of them infact, but an entire life of fighting and violence had taught him one thing - blood only leads to more blood.

    The orc sighed, “I am sorry, about your comrades”, he said, glancing at the severed corpses lying there on the blood soaked ground.

    “Sorry? I know when I see pity, orc, and I also know when I see a man without any” Spat Ulfric disdainfully.   

    “Maybe you should be more careful next time you decide to take innocent people captive?” Retorted Farideh with a venomous hiss.

    “Ulfric” Said Gromph, “I have no quarrel with you”, He looked around at the stormcloak soldier, “Or with any of your men; leave us be and forget that any of this ever happened”.

    Ulfric’s rage boiled within him, Gromph could tell by looking at his eyes: grey, cold, hard, unforgiving. The eyes of a battle hardened warrior. The eyes of a king.

    This man is dangerous, he thought, most nords surrender themselves to rage once their temper is awakened. But not him… he hones it, lets it seep deep into his mind and body where it, like a cold blue flame, burns away any remorse.

    “You should have thought about that before you killed one of my brothers” Muttered Ulfric with bitter resentment, “The blood of a true son of skyrim lies with you, I wonder how many others have shared his fate…”

    Once again Gromph sighed, “Aye” He said, ”There are few men with more blood on their hands than me. None, that I know of. All my life I have sought honor in death and all my life it has evaded me. Blood gets you nothing but more blood. It follows me now, always, like my shadow, and like my shadow I can never be free of it. I should never be free of it. I’ve earned it. I’ve deserved it. I’ve sought it out. Such is my curse”.

    Out of the corner of his eye Gromph could see Farideh staring at him. She slowly slid her dagger away, then shifted her feet uneasily. Gromph new that great orcish warriors weren't supposed to speak like that... but then again, it had been a very long time since Gromph had truly felt like one.

    “That may be so”, Answered Ulfric, “But I only see two ways out of this mess”. He paused, then shifted his shoulders back and drew his magnificent steel blade from its scabbard, the polished steel shining crimson in the red evening light, “Either you lay down your weapons and surrender yourselves peacefully - if so I might just allow you to live, unless that sharp tongued khajiit decides otherwise. Or me and my men will kill you where you stand”.  

    Farideh froze beside him, her ears flattening themselves against her elegant skull and the snarl from earlier reemerged onto her face. the dagger was back in her hand.

    “Then maybe you will bless me with the death I for so long have sought”, answered Gromph, gripping his axe with both hands and spreading his legs to gain better balance. Ready to fight...

     

    But the fight never came, for Ulfric had foreseen only two plausible ends to the predicament. However, fate is an incomprehensive force and something happened which none of the present people could have anticipated.

     

    An arrow whistled through the air. It arched high, then reached its target before anyone realized what was happening. One of the stormcloak soldiers fell dead, a shaft buried deep in his chest.

    “FOR THE EMPIRE! FOR SKYRIM, AND FOR THE EMPEROR!”. The shout roared from everywhere, it seemed. Then the forest around them exploded. Birds screamed, pines cracked and from the shadows between the trees stormed a formation of imperial soldiers.    

    “By Malacath’s bollocks, what the fuck is goin-”, Gromph never got a chance to finish his question, for more arrows started raining down upon the unexpecting stormcloaks and Gromph had to toss himself to the side, slamming into Farideh who went sprawling.

    “An ambush!”, Shouted Ulfric, “Sons of Skyrim, rally to me!”.

    With astonishing speed and efficiency the stormcloak soldiers formed around their king and stood their ground as the imperials came charging toward them.

    To his astonishment Gromph found himself in their midst, axe in hand, adrenalin pumping. He looked around, Farideh was nowhere to be seen. Ohh she'll manage, he thought, she’s resourceful.   

    The two sides clashed together and Gromph lost himself to his inner demon; the demon that all men hide within themselves but only very few ever discover. Gromph had discovered his and he knew how to use it.

    The first imperial to come close lost his head within a heartbeat. Gromph swung his axe wide and one more imperial fell. Another tried to flank him, this one with a large shield, raised, sword ready to strike; but Gromph had fought to many battles against too many warriors to become discouraged by the wall of steel and wood. To Gromph a shield bearing soldier was a soldier who didn’t know how to fight at all, and he knew exactly how to take advantage of the shieldbearer.

    He threw himself at the man, his heavy shoulder slamming into the shield. The soldier lost his balance and desperately tried to slash at Gromph, but the rim of the shield prevented his arm from moving freely and instead of dealing a deadly blow, he opened up his flank to an attack. Gromph saw the opening before it was even there and slammed his heavy gauntleted fist into the man's right flank, shattering his ribs.

    The man fell to the ground with a cry, but the sound was interrupted as Gromph’s mighty axe came thundering down with the deadly precision of a guillotine. The soldier's head went flying, accompanied by half his right arm, sword still in it’s hand.

    Gromph watched the head arch through the sky, then it hit the ground with a muffled slap and rolled to a stop as it bumped against a small rock.   

    The orc turned and was dismayed to see two imperials close behind him. One was within striking distance and was about to cut open Gromph’s back; but the strike never came, for out of nowhere a dark metal dagger came flying and struck the man in his temple with a soft thud. The man sank to his knees, dead before he even hit the ground.

    Farideh stood behind a large tree stump, three daggers in one hand, the other empty - Gromph could easily guess where to find that one.

    “A woman can never have too many dagger’s in this one's experience”, she called with a twisted smile. Very resourceful indeed…

    The battled raged on.

    Blood only leads to more blood...

     

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Comments

6 Comments
  • Idesto
    Idesto   ·  January 29, 2016
    Oi, steady! I hate bloody Ulfric - murderous bloody Nord! 
    Well, Shinbira does anyway...
  • Idesto
    Idesto   ·  January 29, 2016
    A good twist! Nicely done. Next!
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  January 13, 2016
    It's one of the curses and one of the gifts we get from such games like the TES series. NPS's are portrayed in only so much light so we as writers and gamers expand upon it. That being the case we often take these characters and in the process of fleshing...  more
  • ShyGuyWolf
    ShyGuyWolf   ·  January 12, 2016
    wow, what a tale.
  • BlueDremora
    BlueDremora   ·  January 12, 2016
    I was afraid Ulfric would come over as a bit too much of a moron, but then again, what would you do if someone killed two of your hand picked warriors for a special trip? I know that I would probably get pretty darn mad myself... (ps. I love Ulfric as muc...  more
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  January 12, 2016
    Another very good entry. Ulfric is being a bit of a dork in this chapter. *sighs*
    Throwing daggers are very useful, smart khajiit. 
    And why do I just want to give Gromph a hug?