As the battle raged on, Gherken had been able to turn her attention to her comrade, about to be splattered by a Bandit with an axe. Unfortunately, it seemed like she should have finished the other Bandit she'd just disabled, since he was being quite a nuisance for the Argonian.

Always one to make herself useful, Gherken ran up to the distracted Axe bandit and, with both hands, swung the top of her own Axe into one of his shoulders. The Axe easily penetrated his flimsy leather armour, but got lodged into his bone. To set it free, she placed one foot on the Nord's other shoulder and pushed him away, his arm only barely connected to the rest of his body. When the Argonian nodded to her as thanks, she nodded back.

With that out the way, she swivelled around to see if the archers had been taken care of, and caught a very brief glimpse of yet another new figure fighting them at close range; a Dunmer, she guessed, from his grey skin, but before she could think any further, she saw a great fat mountainous bastard appear in her line of sight, waving about his colossal hammer as if it was a Baby's Rattle. Her attention having been diverted, the Orc chose to get out of his way ASAP, jumping backwards on both feet.

Edging close as the bearded bastard attempted to squash the Argonian into paste, she was about to try and cripple him like she did with the Bandits. Unfortunately, he swung his Hammer back to deliver a third and final blow to the Argonian, forcing Gherken to jump back again; the spiked back part of the Hammerhead scratching her armour. If she'd been half a second late, she would have been sent flying into a wall.

Recovering from the impact of that fact, she noticed three arrows fly in from of the other side of the ruins, piercing his back and sending him tumbling to the ground like a toppled statue, complete with a mini-Earthquake. Her eyes widened again; she was surprised those arrows could have pierced his fatty hide.

"Awww, Gods..." She lamented to herself, out loud. "...I was lookin' forward to cracking this fat bastard's slaphead." She said sarcastically, with a chuckle and a kick to the man's head, just to see if he was alive. Didn't seem like it... especially since he'd fallen backwards, causing in the arrow in the back of his head to go straight through his brains and out the front.

Gherken looked aside for a moment to observe an Imperial-looking Mage type go to the Argonian's assistance. Good for her. Healing and grief counseling weren't exactly Gherken's forte, even if she had more than enough experience with grief counselors in her early twenties. Instead, she stayed focused on the mission at hand, and surveyed the ruins, sheathing her Battleaxe.

She vaguely remembered there being six Bandits charging at them, and four archers. She could see two corpses a distance away, next to what she knew now was a Dunmer, and five charging idiots, six if you count the fat bastard, were pretty damn dead or near death. That left one unaccounted for...

"Oi!" She yelled, instinctively, as she saw the missing Seventh idiot at the corner of her eye; couldn't have been anyone else, since it was obviously a man in cheap fur armour, rolling about on the floor, with no weapon. Poor bastard must have been knocked aside by fatty. Hearing her shout, the unarmed Bandit scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but had a hard time thanks to a nasty limp.

Not that it mattered, since he barely made two paces before Gherken had sprinted over to him and grabbed him by the collar. Baring her tusks ever-so-slightly, the Orc punched the man in the face with her armoured gauntlet, knocking some of his teeth out and decorating his cheek with more blood. She dragged his slightly limp form back over by the gate and set him down against the wall, intending to make their mission quicker.

"Now, listen closely, crap-for-brains. Hey... 'ey, listen!" She lightly slapped the side of the injured Bandit's head once he started to nod off... well, nod off as a result of exhaustion and blood loss, presumably, but the best missions are the ones that succeed in under an hour. Get in, get out. No fuss. Them having to nurse the man back to health would class as pretty bad fuss, and he was no prisoner of war, either. No doubt one of her new companions would probably want him dead.

"...Apparently there's s'posed to be some special Mead in this... thriving Imperial fort town." She continued, stern, but not shouting. "Juniper Berry Mead. From the looks o' you, you'd know what that looks like, yeah? So tell us if you've seen any. An' if you haven't, then for the love of Malacath, don't say anything stupid, and I might consider letting you go anyway. Maybe head to Solitude and get a bloody education."