The Pale
Instead of Jorwen, the next group of people coming over the bend were demoralized Braves. There were three of them, and all of them terrified beyond measure. They wailed about their first mission being nothing like what they signed up for. Their distraught faces almost made Keegan feel sorry for them, but then again, what did they expect in the first place by signing up with a Nordic militia? One of them was crying non-stop, another was blaming the mercenaries for Aenar’s death, and finally, the last one witnessed their best fall to the Kamal.
“Not only Aenar, they also got Dorrance and the Red-Bear.” The militia fighter resigned in the defeated tone.
“Got?” Keegan looked to the Nord. “Did the Kamal kill them?”
“One of their monsters mauled Dorrance; I saw it squish his head flat.” The Brave recounted emotionlessly, as he was reading the script of a monotonous horror play. “I’m not sure about Jorwen. The big Kamal had him pinned, and I didn’t stick around to watch.”
“We can’t let them down,” Daelin’s ragged voice peeked into their conversation, “we have to...go back.”
“Are you out of your non-existent mind!?” Keegan fumed into Daelin. “The Kamals killed everyone at the inn and now they’re flattening the whole place. Why do you have a death wish all a sudden!?” The Altmer kicked a pebble in a pathetic expression of anger. “You know what? Go die if you so want to, but don’t you ever impose your death wish on the rest of us!”
“What are we going to do?” The crying (not so) Brave suddenly burst out. He seemed to be pleading to everyone, yet in his desperation, the words did not connect to anyone.
“We’re leaving.” Keegan responded. He was all worked up again. Hearing Jorwen being lost to the snow demon made him realize how grim their situation was. It was his survival instinct kicking in. Keegan “volunteered” for the forest fire because it had lesser odds for fatality. Now, he wasn’t going let some honor-bound Bosmer throw his life away. “Forget it, we are, I am, running for Dawnstar. The longer you stay here, the more likely Kamals will hunt you down.” He pointed at Daelin to emphasize their danger.
Normally, Keegan would be too reserved to make such a bold speech. At this point, he was too far gone to care. Whether or not his fellow mercenaries agreed or objected, Keegan himself was well on his way out. He marched briskly ahead, going about his way quietly and deaf to any words directed his way.
The journey was two days long.
Keegan was running on pure adrenaline in the first few hours. When his adrenaline died, he kept going on pure survival instinct. When it came the first noon and almost their twelfth hour of continuous walking, Keegan was running on fumes. It wasn’t only him, as the rest of the party looked like dead men walking. They had taken breaks no longer than thirty minutes, as these were only done to refresh and redress wounds taken earlier. Daelin suffered the worst out of the bunch. The Bosmer managed to walk for a short hour, but soon after, he had to be supported on someone’s shoulder. That someone was never Keegan, because he was still mad at Daelin getting them to this dreadful situation in the first place.
Everything began to blur in the first afternoon. Exhaustion, injuries and the depletion of supplies had pushed the party to their limit. They had agreed to rest up for a longer period, while those that were still strong went to get water from a nearby creek. Keegan was one of the “strongs”, though all that meant was he could still walk more or less straight. Dragging his tired legs to the dirty creek, Keegan’s mind struggled to decide whether or not he should drink still water.
Heavy, metallic boot steps jolted Keegan towards their flank. Half a dozen individuals bushwhacked out of dense vegetation in ragtag, bandit-like equipment. Keegan attempted to form a fighting position, but fatigue made him fall flat on his ass.
“No, why now?” He whined to the sky. “Please, don’t...” He also whined to the bandits.
“Did you come from the frontline?” More people emerged from behind the bandits. These folks were also armed, but their attires were Dawnstar guard uniforms. “Someone give them some water!”
The hillbilly delivering water to Keegan looked like the strangest thing on Nirn. “Why go through all this trouble to rob us?” The Altmer refused in contempt.
“If we’re really robbing you, you’d be long dead.” The hillbilly laughed. “You aren’t worth what the jarl offered us.”
Turned out good ol' Jarl Skald decided to buy the bandits out. There had been a "Highwaymen Guild" since the end of the civil war; a bandits' organization modeled on the Thieves Guild. The outlaws at Fort Fellhammer were members, and compared to their traditional lone wolf counterparts, the guild bandits exhibit a great understanding of "collective bargaining". This meant that they were pragmatically self-benefiting, rather than mindless violent and greedy. So when the jarl decided to invest in "unorthodox defense resources", the Fellhammer bandits were able to negotiate a contract no one could have expected.
In their hasty flight through the dark of night, the survivors from Nightgate Inn unknowingly strayed from the main road and entered the side route leading to Fort Fellhammer. The fort itself was beefed up from a bandit hideout to a fortified bulwark, which was controlled by both ex-bandits (now also known as "contractors") and uniformed guards alike. It was the first time Keegan rejoiced seeing a bandit fortress, though the presence of clean water, warm food and security against Kamal attacks might have helped. An iron mine underneath the fort garrison supplied a steady stream of ores. Because the garrison itself was already overflowing with the intake of guards, Keegan and his "pals" could only sleep around a dried up iron vein. Even throughout the night, miners continued working in nearby tunnels. The noise wasn't loud, mainly due to work being maintenance in nature. With that said, it was definitely not the best six hours of shut-eye Keegan had gotten.
Ample supplies allowed the next day of walking to be manageable. Keegan remained quiet, though he was able to exchange occasional words with the Braves. Apparently one-fifth of the militia fighting units were engaged in Nightgate. This number was augmented with a group of Orc hunters away from their home during the massacre of Narzulbur. Other volunteers included Khajiit caravanners and their associates (of which Fulrog belonged to), Nordic Army deserters (after the splinter caused by Thur's death) and even a few Companions. The Braves operated mainly along the White River, which meant missions outside of Eastmarch and Whiterun were limited in scope. Perhaps their limit at Nightgate proved to be a blessing in disguise, as deploying further manpower would have resulted in a much more crushing loss.
"The Dragonborn steered Skyrim towards a great power, and now this great power is busy tearing itself out from the inside." The militia fighter then went on to complain about the jarls' inaction, the selfishness of General Manis' military coup in Markarth, the horrible timing of the Falkreath uprising and how Maven Black-Briar was a "nasty woman" for taking Riften under Imperial sponsorship.
"This is not the Skyrim we bled for, Huntress." Another Brave chatted up Sevine. "All the hardship, all the sacrifice and all the patriotism just for the worms above to bicker while snow demons crush us under their heels. What is even the point to this? Why do you keep fighting?"
Morale was low, especially with the veterans. Keegan wondered if such despair was prevalent during the first Kamal invasion. His mind drifted to the second era account Ariane supposed to be translating; at least the Dunmers weren't traitors back then. What was Ariane even doing? Oh right, the second Winterhold college rescue. When Keegan sees her again, he's sure to have some tough questions for her.
Someone else not feeling the good fight was an Orc smith at Fort Fellhammer. Before leaving for Dawnstar, the Orc offered her blood-kin, Bharzak, an alternate path. She claimed that she was only working for the guards to save up for a ride to Orsinium. After that, she would enlist in Orsinium's war against Hammerfell. "That is our war, sister, not this." She tried to sway Bharzak. "Join me, join our people; you do not belong with Nords or mercenaries."
Daelin could once again move his tongue on the second day. He talked with Rhasha briefly, sharing their experiences away from home. For Daelin, he had ran away from a secluded tribe in the Jeral Mountains to seek something greater. Having now found a conflict with stakes greater than he could ever hoped for, Daelin wanted nothing but to reunite with his tribe. The Bosmer would ask Rhasha about his family, somehow already knew the Khajiit's siblings in the ranks of assassins and at the helm of Elsweyr's army. Keegan did not forgive Daelin for nearly ordering his death, but while eavesdropping on the conversation, his thoughts drifted to his own home far away. It had been a month since he sent a letter from the Reach to the Summerset Isles. Did his parents receive the letter? Would they even care to write back?
The road itself was cooperating for a change. The weather was sunny, and temperature was truly befitting of summer. This meant Keegan no longer had an excuse to whine about the cold, but not long after embarking, he started whining about heat. All in all, it was warm enough to give shirtless bandits a legitimate reason to be shirtless. But this summer heat had another implication; were the Kamals weakened?
If the Kamals were indeed weakened, the mercenaries would not be there to enjoy a precious advantage. Dawnstar was the reward for walking morning till later afternoon. Gustav and Dumhuvud were there to welcome them back, and so was Ariane, who just returned from Winterhold hours before Daelin's mission. Nothing homecoming awaited in Dawnstar. Gustav and Dumhuvud did not looked like they got along. Ariane, who dragged back Almad from the college, had bad news to report (though it was restricted to the company leadership for now). However, the center stage of all troubles was a murder in Dawnstar.
Some Argonian shanked Vurwe last night. Already boiling anti-Argonian sentiments had officially boiled past the point of no return. Jarl Skald firmed his resolve after seeing citizens marching to the Argonian camps with torches in hand. Argonians were now banned even within sightline of the town, and they have less than a week to decide between evacuation and imprisonment. Skald claimed his decision was pragmatic rather than personal, as he allowed distinguished Argonians, such as Dax and Tsleeixth, full accommodation within town. That didn't stop Argonians from striking back. Some of the lizard folks took their rage out on local Dunmers. About the same time Daelin and his men returned, the corpses of Gordo and two Argonian bruisers were discovered in a back alley.
"We have to leave, brother." An Argonian fisher said to Dax. "We are surrounded by enemies waiting to slit our throats. An expedient sea lane is no longer open, so we have no choice but to travel the long roads to Black Marsh."
"Join us, brother!" An Argonian cleric, who was supposedly the
Pakseech's protege, pleaded with Dax. "We need you and your spellsword comrade. Our elder is probably already fighting; they say snakes and monkeys besiege our homeland."
With the chaos in town, Keegan's attention was pulled towards one matter. Gustav had given him a letter, one that he processed in Ashav's absence. Keegan could hardly stop his hand for trembling with anxiousness, and as he rushed for a private corner to read its content, he hardly paid any mind to Gustav promoting Marcel from temporary to full-time employee.
The Altmer's heart almost skipped a beat when he saw the envelope's seal; it was from Alinor.
Sillyman59
Carantathraiel
AlteredTundra
ayzrules
Shu
Spoopy Scary
MacabreFox
Shin Ghost Note
Vesnic
CaliforniaState
(Sevine doesn't count because she has DK)
