Sun's Height 27
Dawnstar
Radsie Vallis had seen such fire before, before she was Radsie Vallis. When she was merely a hired thug to some house kinsman in Morrowind, she had heard all about the fire that swept through the Dres heartland as Argonians rampaged through former plantations. When she was traveling through Skyrim, she had heard of the nationalistic fire that the Nerevarine had rekindled upon his return. It was the same fire that had consumed everything in its path, and one that often incinerated the innocent rather than the target. She often told her new family that they didn't start the fire, and it was always burning since the world's been turning. It was, and always will be, a fire of anger. Radsie knew it all too well as she called upon the same fire to avenge the demise of her birth family.
Her new family was different; they were suppose to be cold and rational. They computed the arithmetic of human life, where a death was a value to be exchanged for another value. But deep inside of Radsie was a desire to burn again, to once again kill for the passion instead of a contract. She had held these urges back for years, but time and time again, she would let such emotions run free in the heat of battle. Such was the feeling when she tore through scores of Armigers on a beach to the east. She felt the rush of settling an old score, something she had probably done more than enough in the past, but never ceased to appeal to her in the present and future.
At the very least, Radsie appreciated having a family again, albeit one of spilled blood over born blood. It was the second most comforting thing for her, and the most she will ever receive. So Radsie felt many feelings upon seeing La'Dansharr reunited with her brother on the shore of Winterhold. There was jealousy, warmth and understanding. Most of the Brotherhood recruits were merciless killers that were more than eager to ditch any trace of their past behind, and the first to go were often their families. Some even claimed they have murdered their relatives in order to impress her (which did not impress Radsie in the slightest).
When La'Dansharr told her that she was secretly tracking Rhasha'Dar, Radsie wasn't even surprised. In fact, she almost expected the Khajiit assassin to keep a close eye on her brother. It's what the ghost of Lucien would have told her, it's what Alisanne's spirit would have advised her, and despite their conflict years ago, keeping one's family safe would be what Astrid have done as well. In turbulent times like the Akaviri invasion and the Armiger incursions, one often lose sight of individuals in favor of the bigger picture. Radsie made that very mistake; she prioritized her own rise of power at the peril of relatives in Morrowind. So Dansharr, in her caring behavior, brought relief to Radsie's constant itch of anxiety. After all, one could never watch their back (and the backs of their loved ones) too often when they just assassinated the Dragonborn.
The problem now was that Dansharr had not seen Rhasha since he went to the outskirts of Dawnstar. Dansharr kept track of the mercenaries, and as far as she knew, none of the mercenary officers sent her brother out to missions. In fact, the mercenary command appeared to be fairly directionless, with their boss sailing off and the businessman taking over in the most unhelpful ways. Dansharr didn't blame them much, and Radsie did not blame them at all. Managing people's hard, fulfilling contracts' hard, and putting these two together made a leader's life extra hard.
However, someone else in the merc company was available for now. The same Argonian they met on the Armiger beachhead, who was actually an agreeable fellow in contrast to that pin-headed Nord axe murderer. Yes, the same lizard with the tongue twister name, the one that just got out of jail for a crime he did or did not commit (assuming it even was a crime), and the same guy that half of the town wanted dead. Well, Dansharr saw that last part coming ever closer to reality.
So there they were, prowling the streets of Dawnstar for Tsleeixth, hoping to get to him before the angry mob does.
As of the late afternoon of the 27
th, most people in Dawnstar were having a bad day. The news of their jarl's death circulated rapidly through the citizens, making people confused, scared, angry and looking for a target to vent their frustrations. For one group of
Neckbeards (a bunch of Nord nimrods fashioning themselves as the "longer" Greybeards), this was their perfect moment to shine. Having spent the past few weeks brooding in their dank basements, fabricating conspiracy theories and getting mad with far-fetched opinions in their echo chamber of hate, it finally came an excuse to put their plan to action. For this group of roughly fifteen people, three Stormcloak veterans and a dozen purposeless young Nords with nothing better to do than hating on everyone else, they saw Skald as a victim to his own leniency. Letting Argonians into the hold was a mistake in the first place for them. The Dunmers only struck because of the Argonians, whom the group deduced as the ultimate target of the Dunmer assassins.
"Dawnstar townspeople died because of their soft hearts and soft spines!" said Thuth, one of the Stormcloak veterans.
"The Argonians brought the Dunmer scourge to our doorstep." One of the young Nords piped up. "We scorn upon the elf invaders, but we despise the lizard slime-mongers!"
"So we must make them pay in blood, and the whole town shall follow us in justice!" Malfrid, another old soldier, proclaimed to the thunderous applause of her fellow Neckbeards.
With the bunch all fired up, they marched out onto the streets to take out their anger on the first Argonian they could find. It didn't take more than five minutes for them to come across Tsleeixth, who was minding his own business (and perhaps too intently in his own business), and pounced onto him from all sides. Hopelessly outnumbered, the Argonian fell to the ground, suffering non-stop kicks, punches and spits. He might have cried out for help, but the Neckbeards were swift to gag him and continue the beating. Soon enough, a crowd gathered, guards came, but everyone merely stayed and watched on the sidelines.
"Stand aside, friends." Thuth ordered the mob to leave an opening for the observers to see. As Tsleeixth's bloodied face appeared in public view, he hoisted the Argonian onto his knees and spat on him. "See for yourselves the filth of our city!"
"And now, he dies!" Malfrid unsheathed her dagger and pressed it against Tsleeixth's neck. Pointing her finger to several combat-capable members of the spectators, she rallied. "This is beginning of their end! Let us destroy the lizard infection once and for all!"
"Not so fast!" A voice came from the crowd. As if on cue, Malfrid froze in a aura of green energy. A figure of red and black leather emerged between guards and citizens. "Let him go!" She demanded.
"Go to hell, lizard lover!" Skag, the oldest Neckbeard, came bellowing with his mace flinging. But he did not manage a single step, as a Khajiit surfaced from invisibility behind him. Also clad in assassin's leathers, Dansharr grabbed Skag firmly by his shoulder and head. When the old Nord attempted to swing his mace behind in surprise, his neck was snapped around with crisp crack.
"This one would drop your, uh," Dansharr appraised the various improvised weapons of the Neckbeards, "tools, weapons, whatever, and go home. No need for further bloodshed."
"Fires of Alduin! Kill them!" Thuth shouted to his Nords.
A few hesitated upon seeing their oldest member drop dead in a heartbeat, but most were more than enraged to launch into a frenzied attack. As the closest Nord swung his shovel at the Khajiit, he was tackled by Aventus Aretino, and then had a knife plunged into his left eye. The next Nord swung her meat cleaver high, but only resulted in her stomach being sliced open by Dansharr. Thuth himself bore down upon Radsie with his sword drawn, his coarse battle cry brought all of the Dunmer's focus out from paralyzing Malfrid.
Releasing her telekinetic grip on Malfrid, Madsie rolled away from Thuth's Nordic sword in time. In the same instance, Malfrid had recovered and joined in beside Thuth. Blood ran hot in Radsie's veins, as not one, but two adversaries confronted her the same time. In her peripheral vision, she saw Aventus and Dansharr holding their own against the horde of Nord ruffians. Most of these so-called Neckbeards were sloppy fighters, with techniques derived from street fights rather than proper combat training. Her own opponents were a different case. They came at her with efficiency on top of ferocity. Radsie was accustomed to striking from the shadows; she enjoyed the rush of swift kills. But this lopsided battle was draining, because each dodge, parry and block felt heavier than the last. Fighting a fair fight was never Radsie's strength, and the current fight was an unfair two versus one. She needed something turn the tables in her favor; lest she fell to two thugs in full public view, and not to mention in front of the adopted son that she so often lectured to. No, Radsie had to win; her pride demanded it.
As she was backed ever closer to the spectators, Radsie realized that she had nowhere else to retreat. In a sudden dash backwards, she grabbed the closest thing that could shield her; a Nord townsfolk. The expressions on her opponents' faces were shock and hesitation. Perhaps they didn't want collateral damage? From their speech, Radsie knew that the Neckbeards needed the people of Dawnstars to stand with them. So threaten another Nord must be the leverage she needed.
"One more step and he dies!" Radsie exclaimed. Her casting arm seized the Nord by the neck, while the other pressed up the Blade of Woe to his temple.
The crowd gasped and cried in shock. Citizens parted further back, leaving only a small detachment of guard standing near Radsie. The looked to each other, to Radsie, to the hostage, to the Neckbeards in the standoff, and finally back to each other again. The guards didn't seem to be interested in intervening, but their commander decided to do so regardless.
"Alright, this show's over." The highest ranking guardsman warned. When neither Radsie nor the Neckbeards stood down, he ordered his men forward. "Cyneburg, Torbald, break them up!"
"Shor's beard, I just got up after the night shift." Cyneburg grumbled and stretched her shoulders in annoyance. "I'm sick and tired of this shit."
"We should just let them kill the lizards." Torbald grumbled back. "Less trouble for us to deal with."
It was apparent that the guards, in their half-hearted attempt to keep order, went after Radsie rather than their fellow Nords. While they approached, Radsie shared a look with Dansharr. The Khajiit and Aventus Arentino had defeated half of the dozen young Neckbeards. Radsie shook her head and nudged slightly to the direction of the sanctuary. It was time to leave, and no matter how unfortunate it was for Dansharr's brother, they could not risk bring down the wrath of the entire town.
"Just let him go and no one gets hurt." Cyneburg called out to Radsie from just outside of weapon's reach.
"You hear that?" Malfrid added with a taunt. "You're done, knife-eared bitch!"
Gritting her teeth together, it took Radsie all of her restraint to not lash out. She spun around halfway and shoved her hostage to the guards behind. As expected, Thuth and Malfrid came charging in not a second too late.
"
Die, die, die!" Thuth snarled and twirled into an assault. His dark cloak twisted around him like a black cloud, spinning along his twin blades in a deadly dance of soul reaping. His facial features solidified together into a killer's mask. All around Thuth, death blossomed, or so he thought. No matter what, Thuth embodied the sharpest lord of edge.
To Radsie, though, Thuth couldn't have made himself a bigger fool.
Shaking her head at this pathetically ornate maneuver, Radsie unclipped a ice gray bag from her bandoleer. Powdered frostbite venom was the content, specifically prepared by Babette to poison the Dragonborn. Ultimately, Radsie had to resort to something more potent for a man with the soul of dragons. But for a man spinning himself dizzy, frostbite poison more than does the job. A generous poison dose thrown onto Thuth froze his murder face right into a comically suspended gasp, complete with the deer-in-carriage-light eyes and a big gaping, O-shaped mouth. For the rest of Thuth's body, they became similarly paralyzed. However, the centrifugal momentum he had already build up continued to propel him. Without commands from his nervous system, Thuth careened hard to his left, where Malfrid was moving to flank.
Thuth collided hard with Malfrid. His blades did so even harder; they cut Malfrid in half.
Finally, Thuth tumbled and fell. He collapsed just between Malfrid's upper torso and her lower half. He stared, then a moment later, the sheer shock shook him out of the poison's influence.
"No! This is my curse!" Thuth wailed. Tear streamed down like a waterfall. His breathing became increasingly ragged until he was hyperventilating. He pounded the ground with his fists, he rocked his head so violently, that it looked like a drowning man clinging for air. He searched his vicinity for the people that ruined his painstakingly planned moment, but all he saw were the red leathers and Tsleeixth getting further and further away.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
"It was an inside job! The Argonians are behind this! A hundred blood for one!"
Sadly, people believed him.
Edith should have gone after them sooner.
The 27
th had been both the easiest and the most difficult day for her. Ashav sent her to inspect the company's supply. The inspection took no more than five minutes, because there wasn't any supply left. Of course, this meant that she had to get more, which meant pestering Gustav to divulge some of his legendary wealth for a few sharp blades and a sturdy suit of armor. It really went as well as Edith expected, which did not go anywhere at all. Gustav had been burying his nose in letters between himself and his prophet. He was trying to figure out why the prophet had stopped corresponding for more than two months, and why it stopped at such a critical time, after repeated warnings of a looming invasion. Gustav nodded when Edith came in and promised her what she came for, but as soon as she left, Gustav had all but forgotten about her. If it were up to Edith, she'd throw away this prophecy nonsense and focus on the matters at hand, like how Marcel and Rhasha'dar still haven't reported back from their morning investigation of the tower, when it was past noon. She had to persuade Ashav, whom was in the middle of contemplating the possibility of Skald reneging on their payment, and the danger of some Argonian called Leather-Face (a known psychopath that had been set lose after the
Pakseech's death) killing random people with a sawtooth sword. Edith assured him, in her typical optimistic prediction, that everything was going to alright. Rhasha and Marcel was just taking an extended lunch break, and the town of Dawnstar would be perfectly fine.
Oh, how wrong she was.
For starters, she found Marcel and Rhasha both collapsed outside of the tower, with a thick blood trail behind them. They were barely alive, and had she not swiftly summoned the new chaplain/healer to their aid, the Breton and the Khajiit would have been as good as dead. When Wylendriel finally stabilized the wounded, and when Edith had shaken off the feeling of being followed, more of the mercenaries had returned with the news of Skald's death and a Dunmer prisoner. There was also a meddling Redguard that had apparently helped against the Dunmer (though he didn't help Skald live), a person Edith could not care less about at this time.
Then came the best part. Three masked individuals, a Dunmer, a Khajiit and a young human, dragged back a badly beaten Tsleeixth. What Edith meant by the "best" part was the part that absolutely baffled her. The peculiar and somewhat frightening appearance of their red leather almost caused Edith to attack on sight, but that was immediately halted when a barely conscious Rhasha'dar and the masked Khajiit recognized each other as siblings. This was followed by the Dunmer woman removing her mask, revealing her angular features and supposed non-hostile intention. Of course, it had to be the Dark Brotherhood, the sworn enemies of the Morag Tong (the organization Skald's killer belonged to), and someone they had already encountered from their mission to Winterhold. Edith wasn't on that mission, so it meant she could shove this up to Ashav and deal with something less convoluted.
"You have to understand, Dawnstar is coming apart; there are literally mobs marching out there to kill each other." The Brotherhood leader warned Edith, but she gave them her back and went for Ashav.
"We are trying to help you!" The human teenager added.
"Sure you are." Edith retorted.
"This one may not care about you, but she does very much care for her brother." The Khajiit assassin chimed in. "If you are half the leader you pretend to be, you would know to pull your men out of danger."
As they walked to the command tent, a throng of torches appeared in the distance. These torches were headed to the Argonian camp. The Argonians themselves appeared to be mobilizing as well, as their fighters have formed a defensive perimeter around the more vulnerable. The loud, blood-roiling screams emanating from the distance were unmistakable signs of people getting ready to kill each other. Perhaps the most disturbing sound was from ahead; the silence in Ashav's tent. Ashav was last seen interrogating Valyne (Skald's murderer) and planning to self-medicate with a bottle of Summerset Reserve (expropriated from Vurwe's possession after her death). Ashav was not a quiet interrogator nor a quiet drunk; he was noisy and animated for both.
"Wait," Edith said, "that's not-"
"Get back!" Radsie warned, jumping in front of Edith just as she pulled open the tent flaps. Not a second later did a dagger fly out, stopped by telekinetic magic and sent back to the exact location it came from. A pained voice screamed from within. Radsie dashed into the tent as soon as her spell worked its effect, with Dansharr unsheathing her weapon and following tightly behind. They found the dagger pierced through Valyne's stomach, and pinning Skald's killer to the ground. Right beside her was Ashav, legs broken, hands grasping the choke marks on his own neck and gasping hungrily for air.
"Don't even think about it." Radsie stomped on Valyne's hands, one after another, stopping the attempt to remove the dagger. "What are you-"
Valyne's story would end for good then. A sharp bite of canine teeth into each other released a tiny, but deadly, poison capsule. Her last ditch attempt to kill had failed, and so would the interrogation. All that's left was a corpse foaming at the mouth, and a drunken, battered and nearly dead, Ashav.
That night, Dawnstar turned into a meat grinder. Nords and Argonians fought under torch light until dawn, and when the sun crested upon the horizon, only the Nords were left standing. The city guards, following their captain's order to not interfere, watched from the palisades as the slaughter unfolded. A hundred lizards died, while a surviving few fled into the wilderness. Some of these survivors would launch a revenge attack a few days later, taking many innocent lives in a suicidal rampage. Civil order broke down completely in Dawnstar. The guard captain became the ultimate authority, whom declared a lockdown in the entire hold. The only activity afterwards was dumping bodies into the sea.
As far as the mercenaries were concerned, none of them would miss Dawnstar. Their compensation for the investigation was gone, due to the fact that treasury access was disputed and the Pale was too indebted to afford the cost. The
Kyne's Tear sailed out for Solitude two hours after Valyne's death. Edith didn't need the Dark Brotherhood's convincing anymore, Ashav had more than enough of this shit hole, and Gustav wanted to track down his prophet's messenger in Solitude anyway. They had to depart so hastily that some of the company was unaccounted for. But there were already portions of the mob setting their sights on the mercenaries, and it was entirely possible that their bloodlust did not sate after the Argonians.
The only worry left was the Bleakrock group. Of course, the ship they departed on was Dawnstar property, and their charter required returning to the same port they left from. However, in Gustav's inventory was a dreamsleeve communication crystal, one that Ariane gave him as a sample of her prowess. With a simple ritual, Gustav could send Arianne a short message despite the distance between them. Gustav never tried it before, but it was the only hope the mercenaries had to reach their comrades. The dreamsleeve message instructed them to sail for Solitude at earliest instance, and should the
Steelhead crew prove troublesome, a mutiny would be acceptable. Because the alternative would be accepting the losses, and none would see their friends as acceptable losses.
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