N7 Spec Ops
Syrona didn't have time to notch and fire her own bow. The bolt flew past her and the next thing she knew, she was flying through the air and slammed against the fencing of the armorer's work area. She tried to get up, but the impact against the fence left her body a little numb. She managed to turn her head and look at the scene. The physical damage was minimal, but the cart was turned over and she couldn't see anyone else. She could barely make out the screams as her ears ringed. The poor refugees probably figured the bandits had caught up to them.
She heard the familiar crunching of hurried boots. The guards were on their way and they weren't going to be happy. She started to get feeling back in her fingers and dug into the dirt. She pushed with all her might, just to get in an upright position. Her butt was still numb against the dirt and her legs weren't any better so there she sat as the guards surround the scene. A couple came right for her and grabbed her arms with vice like grips, something that probably would have hurt had she more feeling. They were yelling something to her, but it was muffled against the ringing.
Karnage had very little time to react. It was times like this he fought with a shield, or had armor. He raised his warhammer to absorb the bolt, only for it to bounce off the hilt and land into his chest. Before he knew it, there was a small explosion, and he was on the ground. He tried to get up, but he couldn't feel his arms. He was cold, so very cold, and yet he also couldn't move. The upper portion of his body was frosted over in ice, encasing his arms. He struggled to free himself while also trying to ignore the pain he was suffering. He was a soldier, and an orc to boot; pain wasn't something he needed to concern himself about. But before he could get himself up, four guards came upon him, grabbing him and taking him away. He wasn't sure if they were taking him to prison or if they were trying to help him, as all the yelling made things are to discern. Getting shot in the chest also made things hard to discern too, but for different reasons.
After firing her crossbow, Lucilia trembled and was about to load the next one. But before she could, the guards rushed her, taking away her weapon and forcing her on the ground. They tied her hands together and pulled her back up, making sure she wouldn't try to fight or cause more harm. They yelled something about a disturbance, but she didn't get the full lecture, because she did try to struggle, and she got a blow to the head for her trouble. Her eyes went hazy as she ebbed in and out of conciseness, taking her away with the others.
N7 Spec Ops
The guards had quickly swarmed the scene. Syrona found it ironic that they'd react in a heart beat to a domestic disturbance, but light a village on fire and they didn't move a muscle. She tried to struggle, but the ringing in her ears made her too dizzy to properly stand let alone fight. She could see the orc and Lucilia being subdued as well. Clearly, they broke a "no magical exploding weapons to be discharged" rule. The voice of the guards started to become clearer as they started dragging the trio across the courtyard.
"To the Jarl, he'll want to deal with them personally." Syrona stopped struggling to focus on thinking. There was no Jarl of Helgen. The place was a shrine, not a town or even a village. Surely, things hadn't changed that much since she had been hiding away in Tearstead. Sure enough, the guards dropped the trio to their knees in front of an elegantly dressed old man. He was the Jarl of Whiterun. Syrona had seen him once before, during one of her sale trips to the city. He was a pompous prick then and probably would be no different now. He simply watched them, looking down over his nose, probably waiting for one of them to plead for their lives. He'd get no such pleasure from her.