TES: The Collector Chronicles

"I'm tellin' yer," Zanvon spat. "Those Imperial scum are a bunch of incompetent skooma pigs. You wait! You'll see! We'll get there, and dear old Ulfric Stormcloak will be there to greet us. Hahaha."

Zanvon was a Dunmer, and like most of his kind, he held a certain hatred for the Imperials. However, unlike most of his kind, he wouldn't shut up. Telling him to just didn't work, in fact, it seemed to encourage him to spout more of his mind-numbing nonsense. Ever since they'd seen the smoke rising in the distance, not just a day ago, Zanvon had been foretelling over and over how the Empire was minutes away from crumbling.

Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo had reached the point where they just didn't care any more. Let him ramble on! If it kept him from harassing Arielle, or stealing Aristobus' books, then great! The sooner they could get that bottle of mead, the better. 60,000 septims wasn't worth that Dunmer's company, not even for a few days.

"See! You see! The gate's closed! A raiding party don't shut the door after they leave!" Zanvon laughed, breaking into an awkward skip. "Ulfric! Ohhhhhhh Ulfric!" he sang, "How many Imperials did you kill today!?"

The four agents of The Collector had arrived at Helgen's eastern gate. They'd encountered no Imperial patrols in the area, which was worrying given the settlement's strategical importance. More worrying however, was that they hadn't seen any of the notorious stormcloaks either. From behind the gate, pillars of smoke were still rising, and the crackling sounds of fire could be heard quite clearly on the crisp morning air.

"Knock, knock!" Zanvon chuckled, pushing a gloved hand against one of the gates. He gave it a slight shove, and it moved with a screech. "I'll bet 30,000 of my share that we'll see a whole pile of those Imperial scumbags--- NO, no! I bet we'll see thirty Imperial heads mounted on spikes. That's one head per 1,000 septims. Who wants in on the bet? Eh? Eh?" He stopped, and gave a large toothy smile at Arielle. "How about you eh Princess? Want to take a chance with ole Zanvon? Tell ya wha-"

An arrow flew through the open gate and struck the Dunmer in the neck. His eyes went wide, and he tried to speak - but no sounds came to his lips. With a few staggers, he collapsed to the floor.

Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo drew their weapons, just as three tall Nordic men surged through the gate. They were wearing tattered leather armour, and brandishing iron short swords. Their heads were hidden beneath horned iron helmets, but all three of their blonde beards sagged down to their chests.

The middle Nord looked down at the slain Zanvon and spat. "Talked too much, that one," he said with a grunt. Then his eyes shifted up at Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo. "Helgen now belongs to Magnor the Black! And there's a toll to be paid for passing by. Either hand over everything you have, or--" he stopped, taking another eager look at them. "On second thoughts, you three look dangerous. Best not let you live, at 'em boys!"

The three bandits surged forwards, roaring their songs of battle. Arielle, Aristobus and Jo'Resfo stood fifty feet away from them; they had time to act, but that time was rapidly dwindling.

You know, I just might! A thousand Septims a head! Now shut up and get the gate open, you dull dark elf drunkard, before I shove my staff up your- is what Arielle would have said if an arrow had not suddenly pierced Zanvon's neck and spattered her face with specks of red hot blood. The Breton stood frozen in shock as the bandits emerged from behind the thick double doors, her every muscle tense with fear and surprise. At that point she was prepared to give them whatever they wanted in exchange for her life, but that opportunity was snatched from under her nose before she even realized it was there.

It was all she could do to watch, in horror, as the murderous men raced towards them. Then instinct kicked in. She began reciting an incantation and, moving her hands in complex patterns, cast the spell for levitation. She gave a gentle push and was suddenly airborne, floating slowly backwards through space while she scanned the area for a good place to hide. Another arrow flitting through the air only a few feet away reminded her of the archer. She would need to find cover. But where?

The answer presented itself almost instantly: there was a big pine tree with a thick trunk not far away. She floated as fast as she could and hid herself behind it, well beyond the reach of blades and bows. Hopefully she would now have some time to think of a decent strategy.

Jo'Resfo was happily strumming his lute as the party approached the gate, trying to block out the nasty, discordant sounds that always seemed to be spilling from their Dunmer's mouth. The young Khajiit hated negativity, and always had, always trying to spread his optimism to all he encountered, but had long since given up on Zanvon. Still, he was very surprised and almost dismayed when the Dunmer's spurts of insults were replaced with spurts of blood.
"Oh no, poor Zanvon," he exclaimed it with an almost-believable level of anguish, then, much more quietly added, "If only there was something we could do to help him..."
Jo'Resfo was conflicted for the first time in his life about healing an ally, but thankfully he would not be forced to reveal his position on the matter, for his attention was soon occupied with the approaching bandits. They didn't seem friendly at all, but Jo'Resfo prided himself in not judging others. Still, as he saw his companions preparing for battle and heard the bandit leader ordering their deaths, he supposed that maybe, just maybe, it couldn't hurt to be prepared, just in case these bandits might actually be planning to attack. Using one hand to cast ebony flesh on himself and the other to trade his lute for his blade, he entered a novice combat stance, hoping to be quick enough to parry their blows, and perhaps dissuade their attackers with his honeyed tongue.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, is all of this violence truly necessary? Would it not be much more enjoyable and much less dangerous for all of us if we settled down and talked out our differences over a meal instead? I have been told that I am quite the cook."

The bandits cursed as the Breton woman flew from their grasp, levitating herself behind a big pine tree. An arrow whistled by her, and a second followed, but fell short.

"Leave her, we'll get the wench later!" said the middle bandit. He turned to sneer at the Khajiit. "Gentlemen? Do we look like gentlemen? I'm going to enjoy carving you up, cat man!"

Two of the bandits rounded on Jo'Resfo, and began circling him. The one giving orders turned his attention to Aristobus. "Any last words, Imperial?" he said through gritted teeth. "Shoulda stayed south of the border. Nothing but death up here for your ilk!"



Deejaza peered out over the melee from her hidden position behind some elevated shrub. The Collector's envoy had said there were others assigned to gathering the bottle of mead, and she had thought that impossibly odd. Why so many people for a lousy bottle? Why pay so much for it?

The smouldering ruins of Helgen suggested an eery answer: perhaps there as no more of the stuff, not the same local brand in any case. What had happened here anyway?

Nevermind. A Dunmer lay on the ground, blood pooling around his lifeless body. The Envoy had mentioned one such agent in the group. A Breton woman had thrown down the Levitation Act quite shamelessly as the melee had begun, and Deejaza smirked at the sight of her.

Crafty. But it wasn't doing much for the hapless Khajiit, who was perhaps seconds away from being turned into dog food.

The clanking of armour rattled behind her, and she cast a backwards glance. Reesh greeted her with a nod - the two had met up a couple of hours earlier on the road, and he seemed an able companion from their short introduction. She motioned him over, and pointed at the bandits as they circled the Khajiit, and then the Imperial who was backing away from what was presumably the bandits' leader.

Reesh gave the scene a brief analysing glance, and then with a nod, casually descended down to the gate with his mace held low and his shield high.

Aristobus snarled at the bandit leader, "you wont stop me from finding my mother!"

The bandit leader recoiled slightly, dumbfounded by the Imperial's words. "Mother? What?"

But Aristobus did not elaborate. Instead, he threw forwards his left hand, splaying his fingers. A small sphere of fire appeared for a moment, spinning on its axis. The bandit leader realised his peril, and stepped backwards just as Aristobus threw his destructive energy into the ball of fire, making it as large as a man's head.

"No, wait!" the bandit leader cried, realising his sword and tattered armour was an inadequate defence against the spell.

And then Aristobus fell backwards, a feathered shaft jutting from his chest. The bandit leader looked over at the gate, and saw that one of his men had rushed forwards with bow in hand.

"Couldn't you have done that sooner, you pond scum!?" he roared, before remembering the Khajiit was still standing. "Come on you limp mudcrabs, let's get this cat stuffed and be on our way."

The three bandits surrounded Jo'Resfo, jeering at him. "Here kitty, kitty, don't be afraid, it'll all be over soon", one of them chuckled.

The archer of the group stood by the gate, looking up at the pine tree he'd seen the Breton retreat behind.

Reesh slowed his pace when the imperial made a hasty move that ended his life, unfortunate as his spells would have probably helped. Reesh realized these men are probably quite inexperienced in proper combat, only preying on defenseless passers by. Their lack of awareness of their surroundings only added to this belief, meaning Reesh could try to mind-game some victory off of this battle.

Using his mace to point at the archer at the gate, hoping Deejaza would take that as a sign to either distract or take out the archer, Reesh then began to jog at the three bandits surrounding the tan Khajiit. Then he began to run. And then sprint. Until he was at charging speed. The clanking of his armour was quickly picked up by the three bandits and they turned their attention to him. The two he was approaching prepared themselves to evade his charge, the one with the loud-mouth barked at him to back off. Reesh, with the help of his tail, managed to shift his weight enough that he could keep his momentum but change his directory into the third bandit, who was caught off by surprise. Lowering himself, Reesh put his entire weight into the bandit, toppling him over while the argonian rolled over top of him. When Reesh had recovered his footing, he quickly threw a heavy, over-head bash at the toppled bandit's head. He was met with the satisfactory and familiar sound of metal meeting flesh. Standing up, Reesh could see the gruesome sight of the fallen bandit's iron helmet slightly caved inward as blood started to pool around it.

The argonian looked at the two remaining bandits as they seemed to back up slowly. Looking behind himself, towards the gate entrance, Reesh spotted the bandit archer laying on the ground with two arrows in his chest. Reesh gave a dark smile as he lifted his bloodied mace onto his shoulder, "Heh. Honestly... I hoped you would put up more of a fight than that bear did twenty minutes ago." Reesh lowered himself into an aggressive shield stance, "Care to prove me wrong?" He hoped his made up story about a bear would help frighten them, as well as the fact that two of their buddies had died. If they ran, he wouldn't mind, if they fought, they would probably make mistakes due to either fear or anger. Either way, this should work out in his favor.

((To be edited))

(Mistaken)

They were in a tight spot, no doubt about that. Both sides had suffered casualties, but the bandits had not faltered. Arielle was terrified herself. She had been in similar situations before but she never got used to them, a sign of sanity according to her. She dared a peek around the trunk and immedietly wished she had not. The archer was looking right at her and nocked an arrow as soon as he saw her. She ducked behind the tree before he had the time to draw and cursed under her breath. People were getting killed. She had to do something, or she might suffer the same fate.

But wait. There was something she could do. The archer was pinning her down, yes, but he had also come out of cover to do so. She could shoot him too, although not with arrows. Arielle had a determined look on her face as she again turned to leave her cover. She prepared a Calm spell and flew out from behind the tree.

The archer had moved slightly to the left, and in the time it took her to spot him he had the time to draw. The Breton felt a strong urge to fly back to safety, but she forced herself to stay. They both released at the same time, he his arrow and she her spell. The arrow grazed her in the side of the thigh, but the spell hit home perfectly. The archer would be out of the fight, confused, but only for a while. It was all Arielle could do to focus on maintaining the spells as she set off towards another tree. Holding a hand against the wound on her thigh, she hoped that the others could deal with the rest of the bandits.

Reesh's sign did not go unnoticed. Jaza nodded, although Reesh didn't see the sign since he'd already gone off, and nocked an arrow on her bow. The iron tip glimmered gently in the sun that streamed between the trees, hopefully no one would see that. As Reesh charged into the bandits, Jaza loosed an arrow from her bow, and as swift as the arrow itself, drew another, nocked it and sent it on its deadly path, straight for the bandit archer, while at the same time one of the allied mages, floating in the air as it were, lobbed a strange-looking spell at him. The spell hit first, paralysing the archer and making him a perfect target. Her first arrow jammed itself straight into his shoulder, shoving him off balance as the second burrowed into his chest. That dropped him to the floor, quickly dying as the combined trauma of the two holes in his torso bled him dry like a gutted pig. Ahead of her, Reesh had dropped one of them by turning his head into mush, and was sizing up the other two for a beating. Behind him, the Khajiit mage had stunned a few of them with a spark spell to the floor, so that took care of that.

Reesh drew another three arrows from her quiver and kept them in her hand. With that, she slinked around the action, trying to distance herself from any other possible retaliation, while keeping a line of sight on the battling group. She could keep Reesh covered, she knew that the lighter, more agile bandits could out-manouvre him in his heavy armour. She edged closer to the entrance of the bandit camp, positioning herself behind a tree where she could see the backs of the two bandits that were busy cowering and backing away from her compatriot. She lined up her first arrow and drew her bow. Might as well, since she was here. Her hand released its deadly cargo and it shot straight towards his back. The iron-tipped arrow shoved its way straight through his torso, the tip appearing out the other side of him. She shifted her aim to the other bandit, and with a quickness not yet rivaled, she drew first her second arrow, let it fly, and immediately drew her third and let that fly too. In the time it took her first to reach its target, her last two arrows were in the air, and they punched through the other bandit's leather armour, embedding themselves in his back and toppling him over.

She quickly hid back behind the tree. As much as she enjoyed a good spot of archery, her other skill was in sneaking, and she did so away from her hiding spot. Hopefully she'd made it seem that the arrows were fired from a mysterious place, freaking out her Argonian compatriot possibly. Maybe.

It did amuse her when she did things that he couldn't emulate. It frustrated him and made her giggle.

Jo'Resfo was very grateful to the others for their assistance. He was no fighter, hired instead for his mastery of diplomacy. Still, as the others barged in to steal the show, Jo'Resfo decided that he should at least provide some assistance to his comrades, lest he be seen as useless. He could not cast mass paralysis with his Argonian rescuer so near, but there were still two small things that he could do. First, he patted Reesh lightly on the shoulder with his free hand, both as a thanks and as a means to give the already well-armored warrior his Ebony Flesh, which certainly would allow him to fear no damage from their attackers. Second, he rolled quickly to the left, setting his eyes on the bandits' chieftain as he did. The man was occupied with keeping an eye on the Argonian who could probably rip him in two- good. Nobody ever payed any mind to the little cat bard. He lobbed a Magelight at the man's face, then began to somersault back toward the gate before he could see if it hit, out of the way of harm. The magelight would probably do little more than distract and annoy the man for a second, but he certainly deserved it.

The bandit leader got back to his feet screaming with agony as he realised two arrows were jutting from his back. He gritted his teeth at the Argonian, but then lost his nerve. He turned to run, just as a magelight caught his face, blinding him with an impossible light. He swung his sword left and right, twisting wildly as if batting away a dozen attackers. A third arrow struck him in the neck, and he fell to his knees with a series of gurgles.

The fight was over.

An eerie silence set upon the scene as the agents of The Collector gathered together, to assess the carnage. Two of their number had been slain; hapless fools who were no match for the common highway man, it seemed. After rooting through the corpses, they found nothing but third-rate armour and weapons, and a few septims. They left the dead on the road - there wasn't time to bury them, not with the bandits still possibly at large.

But what had happened to Helgen? It seemed impossible to all of them that some bandits had managed to overrun the Imperial garrison. This warranted further investigation, but first, there was a bottle of mead that needed to be gathered. They assembled before the gate, weapons ready in case more of the bandits lay within.

Before they proceeded though, they were alerted by footsteps coming up from behind. Thinking they were being flanked by foes, the agents turned, ready for battle. However, all they saw was a heavily armoured Orc warrior, and by her side, the leather-clad slender figure of an Imperial woman. The newcomers quickly held up their scrolls, signed by The Collector's distinctive seal, and so the group had become a party of six.

Together, they proceeded through the gate.

Helgen was a burnt ruin. Houses had been reduced to scorched timbers, the roads were scattered with debris and blackened bodies, and the keep's towers had been smashed apart. What could do this kind of damage, no one knew, but then no one cared. The tavern lay up ahead, or what was left of it. They'd search there first for the mead, and hopefully, they could be on their way within minutes.

And then a volley of arrows flew in from the ruins, and a half dozen battle cries sounded. The arrows narrowly missed the survivors, or were deflected by the armour of any they hit. However, six burly Nords, dressed in bandit attire, rushed from three directions. Four more of their comrades, carrying Imperial bows, followed.

Behind all of them, stood a man who was seven foot tall, and possibly six foot wide. A giant of a man indeed, carrying a large maul. One of his eyes was obscured by an eye patch, and a massive black beard surged down from his shaven head. He laughed heartily, clutching his pulsing abdomen.

"KIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLL THHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!" He roared.

"To whom it may concern, It is of the utmost importance that I have called upon your expertise for a rather malicious but justifiable task, given you have a known reputation for getting things that aren't yours. I request your... talents to get a bottle of mead, but has slipped past the justice of the kingdom, . No matter the cost, I want this bottle. Signed, The Collector."

The tattered sepia toned parchment had written upon it such fiery language and foul utterances towards the chosen target, and at the bottom where the client had written his name lied the mark that forever sealed Balford's fate, the crimsoned, smeared bloody palm-print to mark the man's untimely demise.

Having met with Lastraad beforehand as per-custom within the city's dank and dark catacombs, a secluded and indeed sordid arrangement only illuminated by dim, flickering torchlight, the exchange of coin was made for bloodshed as the return gratitude. Such were the blood-soaked contracts, notes left upon a withering, hollow tree of the old cemetery where the ravens perched, their cantankerous caws echoing the arrival of a client to the forbidden grounds soaked with the hatred and agony of dead men festering.

There the notes were plucked from the tree as ripened apples dripping with their beautiful nectar, but that nectar indeed held the bite of a serpent's venom, for these were letters unto an evil that forever sealed a man's fate to the grave. The assassin who handled such dark and grim affairs was Alena.

Rolling up the contract, she stuffed it into the crevice of her light and surprisingly flexible armor, emerging from her perch high atop the majestic city of Ardarlan, as beautiful as the day she first laid eyes upon its towering buttresses, it's magnificent and colorful market, its posh and elegant Noble Quarter. This was a city she was indeed in love with, marveling the view with such lustful eyes as though a groom who looked upon his bride on the night they made solemn vow to love each other till death do they part. But the time for sightseeing and awing were naught.

Alena had a mission, find Balford within the city, kill him, and bring back the blood rose as proof of her sinister endeavors. I, the wings who guide the Angel of Death, take flight. It was the mantra of all the assassins of the Coven, the very same that brutish man with the scar across his face had taught Alena when she first learned to fly as Matthias called it. More-so it was a swift leap from atop the belfry of the hallowed temple and onto the rooftops she sprinted forth, leaping over to the other roof adjacent to her, then another until it seemed the woman was gliding across thin air.

Her hastened stride paused however upon lieu of a commotion catching her ears. Ah, the royal guardsmen, their armor gleaming as snow freshly fallen upon the cold mountains to the north and clattering as though pots and pans of iron stuffed so halfheartedly in a cupboard. Twas a sight and sound that made her crimson eyes glint with ill delight, but who be this? They crowded round a woman, a rather striking lass, hair long and gilded a soft shade of honey and eyes, dazzling sapphires. Many a tale was heard of a legendary cloak and dagger that fit such an alluring description, even as far as Imperial ruled Karstberg.

Alena smirked under the guise of her hood and with a leap she crashed through the window with a resounding shatter of stained glass. Her cloak, dark and billowing, it flowed around her slim fitting leather armour, giving a sort of ethereal, haunting presence to the woman and in a flash of her hand, the guards before her fell dead, each with a slender, stiletto blade jutting from their jugulars spewing red.

This was just too much. Two of their number had already perished, and now the rest of them would undoubtly meet the same fate. There were ten more bandits approaching them. Ten. Eleven if you added the hulking chief, but he did not count. He was more beast than bandit. Arielle had thought they were in a tight spot before. She would have to reassess that statement.

But she would not go down without a fight. The question was what she could do to help their situation. Levitating would be a bad idea. She would become a floating pincushion before she got ten feet. Calming one or some of the bandits could help, but it was not probable that it would do much good. It had to be a direct assault then. Try to deal some damage. Too bad she had never been interested in the collage of destruction.

Then again, an indirect assault could work just as well.

Waiting for the melee fighters to detach themselves from their archers she prepared the spell which would summon a flame atronach. When the fighters had covered enough distance she released the built up magicka and focused on a spot close to the unsuspecting bowmen. Her plan had the anticipated effect; the first archer had no time to react as the fiery being appeared out of thin air and set him on fire with a supeheated ball of flame. With no one of their comrades left to defend them in close quarters the remaining archers scrambled for cover as the daedra gave chase.

That left the six charging bulls, but that was not Arielles forte. Her companions would have to deal with them. She retreated behind one of the thick gate doors and awaited what came next.

'Sixty thousand for Mead... that can't be right, there's some other catch to this... you can't go three paces through this bloody snow-land without finding a bottle of Mead somewhere...'

The above thoughts raced over and over in the head of the Orc courier and veteran Gherken Grumar, as she slowly walked along the path to her destination, taking long strides so she wouldn't get too far ahead of the Imperial lady next to her, what with her height and all. Didn't know much about her, and didn't care to. She looked like a shady sort.

As was custom in these kinds of trips, the Orc had a bottle of Beer in one hand as she strode along, of which she took momentary swigs. But she stopped in her tracks and took an even longer swig when she got closer to the front gates, already open, and witnessed her destination, the, um... thriving Imperial fort town of Helgen.

Formerly. Now it seemed to be the smouldering, Bandit-infested ruin of Helgen. The people ahead of her didn't look like Bandits, though. They were too diverse and well-equipped to be local degenerates; she'd been to Skyrim before, so she knew what Bandits tended to look like. There were some people on the ground that looked like they could have been bandits, though, except for the prissy-looking guy in a robe with an arrow jutting out his jugular.

"Agh, crap." She lamented to herself, before taking another swig and approaching the band of people gathered at the gates. Figuring that they may be on the same job as she (after all, she was told there'd be several), she chose to take out her Collector-approved scroll in advance.

Sure enough, the lot of them darted around, on alert, when she and her shady companion approached. This was good. All signs pointed to these men and women being able to handle themselves.

"I ain't late to... whatever in Oblivion happened here, am I?" She asked, half-jokingly. Good fights were a reliable form of entertainment on long journeys with no company, after all. Good fights. Not bad fights, like wars where non-fighters get caught up in the bloodshed.

However, it seemed that the universe didn't have a sense of humour, as mere moments after she said this and before any of her new best friends could react, more Bandits appeared from the ruins. Eleven of them, including a great hulk of a man that made her eyes widen a little for a moment. He was even taller than her, which was weird for a Nord. Must have been born with some kind of birth defect.

"Bloody typical!" She yelled in response to this new situation, hurling her now-empty bottle of Beer onto the ground. As six of the Bandits started charging at them, she dropped her cumbersome Courier bag on the ground nearby and unsheathed her enormous Battle-axe... though it was more like a long-handled Cleaver, but still, it chopped things and that's all that matters.

Unfortunately, one of the Bandits seemed to get the jump on her and fired an arrow right at her, grazing her on the shoulder. She grunted and flinched slightly, but didn't falter. It was the Alcohol, probably.

Focusing her stance, she began to duck and weave to avoid any other arrows that came her way, hoping that one of her companions would be able to take them out from this distance. The six charging Bandits were typical; unsophisticated, untrained and unfocused rage attacks. Two of them were coming at her specifically, obviously thinking of her as a priority due to her size. Wise. Or stupid. Depends.

Sidestepping to her left as the two Bandits got especially close, she ducked down and swung her Axe in a wide arc, striking the two in the legs as they ran. One of them... she could have sworn she saw his leg come off as he flew, screaming, towards one of the other fighters; the Argonian, to be precise. The other one did a sort of backflip and landed right next to her. Wasting no time, she spun back around to face him, raised her Axe over the general area of his head, and chopped the top of his skull off.

It wasn't exactly a clean cut... the top of his head seemed to fragment, and his brains spilled out. But he was dead, that was for sure. And more importantly, the damage that had been done to her enemies had channeled their health through her weapon, and she felt a sharp yet soothing sensation in her shoulder as that arrow-graze healed itself.

Turning her attention to the Chief, she thought about going to deal with him after the archers got chased away by what looked like some kind of fiery Daedra, but decided against it until after they'd actually died. Hopefully the others would think this as well, as she turned her attention to the other charging Bandits. Common military tactic: people always go for the big ones, so send them in with swarms of little ones. Gherken knew that one well.

Reesh relaxed from his combat stance when the bandits who were before him lay dead on the nordic ground. He gave a quick nod to the Khajiit while revealing his scroll with The Collector's seal on it. The cat man did likewise as the other two of their group came from their hiding places. The breton seemed a bit uneasy, Reesh guessed it was to the combat itself, the woman didn't seem like the fighting type. Reesh was surprised when he realized that Deejaza had changed positions. The puzzled look on his face faded quickly when he turned his attention back to the situation at hand. Introductions would have to wait, there was a bottle of mead begging for recovery.

After they had checked the bodies, they made their way towards the gate, all silent as they knew that danger still possibly lurked around. Silent enough to hear the footsteps behind them. Reesh spun around, lowering himself and raising his shield, only to be met by an intimidating orc and a shadowy imperial. Their scrolls with The Collector's seal put him at ease, he didn't like the thought of fighting the orc. Not only was she tall, but she was heavily scarred, armoured and burly. Not only that but he noticed she had a very strict military style stance. As for the imperial woman... He couldn't make heads or tails on what to think, other than she strode forward with an air confidence.

Before he even had a chance to think on the orc's question, he heard the distinctive sound of arrows hitting the ground behind him. He turned in time to both hear the charging group of bandits as well as see a large and obese man yell at the top of his lungs. Reesh half-thought the man was a giant who had a growth defect that put all his mass horizontally and not vertically. He quickly put that thought aside as the six bandits got uncomfortably closer.

As they closed in, one of the bandits had an arrow pierce his throat, an arrow that most likely was fired from Reesh's argonian compatriot. The bandit's charge quickly became a hobble as he dropped his weapon to clutch his throat, then quickly falling to the ground dead. Two of the bandits made their way towards the orc, while two more faced Reesh. One wielded an iron axe while wearing leather armour with an iron helmet; the other was fully equipt with iron armour, along with a shield, and an iron sword.

Reesh was distracted by a flying, screaming bandit. He looked to see the man land next to him, his left leg missing as he clutched it. Reesh looked to see the orc quickly dispatch her other opponent. He didn't get a chance to think anymore when the bandit with the axe went in for the strike. Reesh quickly blocked the strike with his shield, only to notice the other bandit went for a thrust at him. He put himself into a spin, pushing the blade to the side with his shield and prepared a strike on the axe-wielder. The bandit ducked under his swing and tried another attack attempt, this time, however, he hit Reesh in the leg. Fortunately, Reesh's armour remained unbroken. Reesh kicked away the lightly armoured bandit as the one with the sword took another jab. The argonian jumped back, dodging the thrust, and threw an overhead strike at the man, who then blocked it with his shield. The bandit then tried a left-to-right slash at Reesh. The lizard-man ducked under the wing before throwing his weapon upwards toward the bandit. His weapon hit home when it struck the iron chest piece, stunning the nord for the moment. Reesh took this opportunity to take a second swing at the man's head, hitting him in the head and knocking him down.

Reesh didn't get time to relax as his axe-wielding opponent charged again. As he attempted to move out of the way of the strike, he felt something grasp his right leg. He looked down to see the one-legged bandit clutching his heavily armoured leg with both arms. Reesh changed his focus and raised his shield, barely blocking the axe that aimed for his head. He then tried to bash the nordic-leech from his leg. The nord would not budge, and Reesh's attention was once again called to the other bandit as he flanked the encumbered argonian.

Reesh noticed the orc approach said bandit from behind, performing a devastating overhead swing into the bandit's right shoulder. When the man fell to his knees, she placed a boot on his other shoulder and pulled her battle-axe free, leaving his corpse to fall to the ground. Reesh nodded his thanks as he turned his attention to the wounded and desperate man clinging to his leg. The wounded bandit seemed to have lost too much blood, as his grip on the argonian's leg became loose. Reesh pulled his leg free and kicked the nord over, to see him both tired and dazed. The argonian left him there and turned his attention to the battle at hand, with thoughts of interrogation if the bandit remained alive.

Magnor the Black was a big man. This much was true. He also an angry man, with a fierce temper. Countless dozens had lost their lives on Skyrim's roads in homage to this fact.

But he was also an able fighter.

He surged forwards into the melee, knocking one of the bandits out the way as they turned to flee- disheartened by a battle that had so suddenly turned against them. Magnor came upon the steel plated lizard first, and almost laughed himself off balance.

"Little lizards need armour," he chuckled, his one working eye wide with excitement. "Here's why!"

Magnor swung his maul with a speed that defied his stature; Reesh brought his shield up in time, but was thrown several feet backwards by the massive impact of the weapon. The hulking self proclaimed bandit king stalked forwards, dripping saliva from an almost toothless grin. He stood over Reesh, and brought his maul down with another lighting-fast strike. The Argonian rolled away, watching the ground disintegrate where he had been laying half a second previous.

"STAY STILL LIZARD!" bellowed Magnor. "DON'T BE AFRAID. MAGNOR IS YOUR FRIEND!!!!!!!!!"

He pulled back for another strike...

Meanwhile, the two surviving archers had managed to temporarily escape the clutches of the flaming monster that pursued them. They worked to load an arrow each, and aimed for the melee- but someone jumped down behind them. They heard his or her landing, and spun. They dropped their bows in favour of a couple of Imperial short swords, and looked upon a Dunmer clad in scaly armour.

"Oblivion!" squeaked one of the archers. "Who are you people? Where do you keep coming from!?"

"Sod that Jor, let's get him!" spat the other. "Magnor gonna be angry if he finds out we sittin' 'ere chattin'!"

They both ran at the Dunmer screaming, weapons held high.

Seryn wasn't the talking type, maybe one of the reasons why the collectors agent came to hire him for an extraordinarily well payed job. It didn't matter. So when one of the archers - an especially ugly example of the common bandit - asked him who he was, Seryn didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. They came at him, two at once. He had hoped to surprise them, but sadly they had noticed him. It didn't really matter.

The ugly one was a bit faster, even a bit too fast. Seryn stood still, holding his sword with a defensive grip infront of him which caused the charging bandit to lower his weapon, in an obvious attempt to impale the dunmer with his short sword. A stupid strategy, which he would have payed for with his life, if it wasn't for the second bandit the dunmer had to worry about.
Seryn waited until "Ugly" could no longer stop, the dunmer made a swift step to the right - away from the bandits swordhand, a lesson one had to learn only once - but kept his left leg where it was, so that Ugly stumbled over it. Seryn then gave him a slap to the back with his free hand, in order to motivate the bandit to bury his hideous face in the ground. He wouldn' be down long.

The other bandit was already attacking with an overhead strike, he seemed to know that he only needed to buy time. Seryn blocked and made a step forward, closing the distance between the to of them. The bandit would technically be at an advantage with his shorter weapon, but Seryn had to be fast and the bandit didn't expect this sudden move. Up close the dunmer noticed that this one wasn't as ugly as his companion, but he smelled much worse. While "Stinky" was still momentarily confused, Seryn pulled his knee up into the mans loins - not an honorable way to fight, but it didn't matter. Stinky bent over with a painful expression on his face and Seryn broke his nose with an uppercut of his free hand, just to bring some distance between them. Whilst the bandit stumbled backwards, the two interlocked blades got free and the dunmer ended Stinkys life with a simple stab through his throat.

All this took not more than a few seconds, long enough however for Ugly to get his beastly face up again. Spitting out dirt and ash he groweld as he stood back up to face the dunmer, who just killed his friend. Seryn turned as Ugly already slashed his weapon wildly. They traded a few strikes and block, Ugly using his weapon aggresively, Seryn keeping his distance. Ultimately the dunmer feinted a bad block and countered Uglys overhead with a quick slash which left the bandit unarmed. He looked at the dunmer and yelled: "Who in Oblivi-". He was cut off by a sword through his heart.

When the dunmer had climbed over Helgens wall, by first climbing a nearby tree, the bandits had outnumbered his - what he supposed to be - companions. Now as he turned around there was not much left of the bandits. If you didn't count the huge mass of man who just flung the heavy armored argonian several feet through the air. Seryn grabed a bow and three arrows of the two dead bodies he just produced. Hoping the rest of the group would create enough distraction for him to get into a better position.

"Scatter!"

Jaza dived for cover as a hail of arrows thudded into the ground where they once stood. The party scattered to the winds as the bandits charged, while she drew an arrow and got her bow ready for combat. As Reesh charged ahead, she stood from her cover behind a broken stone wall and loosed an arrow that flew ahead of him and buried itself in the neck of a bandit that ran to meet him head on, then she ducked back down as the melee erupted spins her, it's fervor unmatched in her years of hunting. With arrows still in her quiver, she cut a wide berth around the fracas, obviously not intending to dive straight into the combat. All she had was leather armour and a bow and two knives, much less equipped than the rest of her companions. With that in mind, she threaded her way through what used to be Helgen, finding her way around the fighting to get behind and above their aggressors.

With the sounds of the fighting slowly moving beside, then behind her, she made a quick turn into what she knew was going to be the rear of the fighting. She didn't know what was going to greet her, probably some angry bandit archers, but she had her weapons and her knowhow. Round the final corner and she stood nearly face to face with two archers, firing willy-nilly into the melee. About to dispatch them with her arrows, Jaza was startled by a Dunmer suddenly appearing from above, engaging the two in a cruel deathmatch that ended with the two face down in the dirt, their life slowly spilling out of numerous slashes in their bodies. She guessed that the new face was an agent of the Collector, and as she flashed her contract with wax sign, he returned the gesture. Great, another companion, one with capabilities similar to hers. She watched as he took a bow and a few arrows from one of the corpses, then she put a finger to her lips to keep him quiet. With the same finger she pointed upwards to the house where the Dunmer had probably leaped from, then she mimed drawing her bow and firing arrows down onto the melee from above. A cunning plan, of course she and her fellow bowman now had to keep their element of surprise all the way until iron-tipped death rained down their adversaries.

Without watching to see if he followed, Jaza slung her bow across her chest and began the climb up, easily finding hand and foot holds in the stones and broken wooden beams that brought her up to the sturdier cross beams that made up the roof of the structure. These hadn't burned and collapsed even though the thatched roof had, and they made an excellent perch from which she could see the entire fight. As she creeped into position, she caught sight of her fellow Argonian Reesh copping a huge hit, and then another from the huge hulk of a man that was the bandit leader. He was dazed and cornered, which made her mad. Without thinking she drew three more arrows from her quiver and nocked the first one, keeping the other two gripped firmly in her draw hand. Jaza took aim at the big lug, specifically at the back of his thick head, not exactly the easiest of targets in a melee, and fired. Not slowing, she re-gripped her second arrow in one smooth motion, pulled back and let that fly, before repeating the same practiced motions with her third, sending three rapid fire arrows heading straight for her big fat target.

After the battle was over, she'd recollect whatever arrows she'd lost. No sweat. Right now, the action had barely even stopped, without time for her to introduce herself to her compatriots. She knew the risks. Fight first, talk later. Jaza knew that much.

Arielle could see it in front of her, the poor Argonian turned to mush under the weight of the sledgehammer held by the lumbering hulk of a nord. She should have done something, helped in some way, but what could she do? Her supply of magicka was all but empty, but even if it was not she did not know any suitable spells. There was always the option of throwing herself in between, trying to deflect the blow with her staff, but chances were good that the giant would smash right through her guard and kill them both. She covered her eyes when he raised the weapon, not wanting to witness the carnage that would follow. But instead of a loud crash and splat there was only a silent thud. And then another.

"Glurgh" said the bandit chief, and Arielle dared a glance. He still held the hammer high, but his grip wavered. There were arrows sticking out of the back of his head. To her horror, the Breton could see the point of one of them sticking out through his mouth, glistening red. Magnor dropped the hammer behind him and took a fumbling step backwards, trying and failing to close his mouth with the arrow in the way, and then tripped over his own weapon. Arielle watched him fall and it seemed to take ages. Then, with a thundering crash and a wet splash, he hit the ground.

She stared at the scene with disbelief in her eyes but soon came to her senses. The Argonian was still on his back, struggling to get up. Arielle ran over to him, preparing a healing hands spell with the extra magicka in her enchanted ring.

Are you hurt? she asked, How can I help you?