Rain. It was always raining at the most inconvenient times in- Where are we again? Ah dammit, somewhere along the lines Atillius had lost where they were, great.

At the back of the caravan of carts and on his way to be executed. Escaping would just lead to deeper trouble out in the wilderness. Atillius looked down at his wrists and stared at the hard-leather straps around them. Strong enough to be impossible to snap, just rough enough to make his forearms itch beyond belief. They were professionally made Imperial Legion bindings, they had these little studs on the inside that kept them locked into place under your wrist so you couldn't turn your hand without breaking a bone. Whatever sadist had invented them was both a genius and a horrible monster.

Atillius grumbled as cold rain began soaking itself into the his hide cloak, like an ice wraith was gnawing at the back of his neck. "Mmphrrggrrpph." Right, voicing complaints won't work for two reasons. One: He's effectively on death row right now, and the fast track plan as well. Two: They gagged him, apparently they had tired of hearing him insulting them. Pigs, they were afraid of the truth he preached. A distant scream from the somewhere in the caravan echoed out, something about hostile forces. Splendid! Now he was going to be attacked by bandits and hung up outside of some old barrow to rot awa- Aldmeri. 

"Fmmk! Fmmk fmmk fmmk!" The bindings didn't much censor his swearing as a group of Altmer charged in, letting fly arrows and swords. A gory scene if ever he saw one. An Altmer with a longsword slashed at him and would have killed him, had it not been for the leather bindings on his wrists. When the blade came down to meet him he brought up his hands in a seemingly futile attempt to block the sword. It was not so futile as it seemed when the straps held just enough to keep the blade from killing him. A second swing was stopped in its tracks by an imperial soldier impaling the elf on his blade. Atillius looked away from the carnage for a moment and spotted what looked like a Dark Elf fleeing the scene with a nord boy. The nord didn't make it very far as an arrow ended his days with a quick strike.

He untied the gag from his own mouth and hopped down out of the cart, it bounced up and down and actually knocked over another prisoner in the process. Who was concurrently slain by an Altmer with a mace. Atillius grimaced and started a slow jog after the Dunmer, poor kid, he had just gotten someone killed. Ah well, at least some of these people were ACTUALLY working with the Aldmeri. So he wouldn't concern himself with the loss of the life of a possible spy. Ahead he saw broken branches and muddy tracks leading through the forest, the Dunmer was panicked and left an almost perfect hunting trail behind him. With deliberate intent he tried his best to cover up any tracks left behind himself, all the while following the tracks of his fellow escapee. 

Up ahead was a small clearing and a fresh riverbed, likely formed from the rains that are pouring down. It had taken him about twenty minutes to arrive, the sounds of battle were far behind him now so that was good enough for him. "Ho! Jovial greetings my Dunmer comrade! It seems this day is a lucky one indeed, we have escaped bindings and survived a bloodbath, so I'll chalk that up as a victory."