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Post by GuardsGhost on Jul 10, 2015 2:27:55 GMT -5
Edric Faulseeker was sat down on a stump that had yet to be cleared from the courtyard of Fort Dawnwatch, sharpening his sword as he whistled a tune to himself. He was wearing the standard lighter uniform of the Dawnguard, with the heavy steel helmet clipped onto his belt. Like many of the others assigned to the rather frigid posting, he had some fur over the armor as well to help keep warm. The sun was beginning to set, the visibility rapidly dropping, but that didn't stop the vampire hunters of Fort Dawnwatch from going about their daily tasks. There was still plenty to do, train, wash clothes, maintain weapons, the usual.
Even as Edric watched, Dawnsguard members were firing off their crossbows at targets, or whacking on eachother with blunted down blades. From the kitchen, the cooks shouting could be heard as she scolded one of the kitchen staff for some misdeed. Edric's lips turned into a grin as his whistling cut off into a fit of snickers at the poor mans suffering.
For full soldiers of the Dawnguard, it was just an average day.
For others however, it was another day of utter misery. Outside the walls, working in the snow that was beginning to fall down again, the prisoners that had been taken by the Dawnguard labored on a trench that would surround the timber walls of Fort Dawnwatch. They did this all under the supervision of two Dawnguard soldiers with crossbows held loosely in their hands. There was no real threat from the muddy, bedraggled group of prisoners laboring. If they ran off, they'd be found quick enough.
And few were dumb enough to risk a crossbow bolt for freedom.
The workers were wearing whatever they had been hauled to this frontier outpost in, meaning that quite a bit of them were wearing yellowed rags from feet to chest. They were dirty, cold, and already the Dawnguard had started losing some to the ice. It sunk through the rags that the men and women had wrapped around their feet, turning their extremities red like the bite of flame.
Suddenly, one of the workers slipped from his perching on the trench, collapsing in the snow and hitting himself in the gut with his own shovel. A torrent of oaths flew from the mans mouth, and one of the Dawnguard watching burst into laughter.
Just an average day at the fort.
"Bastards..." One ragged man murmured to himself, voice hoarse and eyes red. His name was Berin. A bandit, and an old one at that. The other prisoners had ended up defaulting leadership to the greybeard, the Nord habit of respecting your elders coming strong in bandits who were forced to work the entire day in the cold. It was this old man that the Dawnguard crossbowmen watched carefully. But the greybeard just bent his head and went about his business. Though for any of the other prisoners laboring below, he was there for them to talk to.
Abruptly, the normality of the evening was shattered as one of the sentries in the stone tower that the wooden walls had been erected around rang the bell. Activity stopped as men and women looked up to the tower, their curiosity rewarded when a Nordic voice shouted down: "New recruits incoming in a column!"
Sure enough, reinforcements had arrived at the garrison at last. A group of a dozen at least, though Edric couldn't get a good look at them. He slid off his station on the trunk, checking to make sure his sword was clean before sliding it back into place. He then wandered over to observe the column.
Above it all, Carlin the Wild stood watching from his post on the timber wall. His hands were folded behind his back, long red beard going down to his torso, covering the Dawnguard emblem that he now sported. The man who commanded this garrison waited for the column of new recruits to come to a halt inside the fort before he spoke.
"Right then. Some of you may know me, some of you may not know me. My name is Carlin the Wild, and I'm the commander of this garrison. Now as you should all well know, this isn't the Imperial Legion you just joined up with! None of you have ranks, you'll be equal in the fight against the Vampires. That being said...I'm in charge at this fort. Do what I say, when I say it, or I'll have your wrists bound in iron, or your head in the snow!" He gestured at the prisoners laboring beneath the wall. "You joined up to fight Vampires I presume? Well then you best get yourselves equipped to do the deed. Any of you who've yet to get yourselves some Dawnguard steel, go do that now! I won't have any of you milk drinkers be able to say with your last dying breath that you were 'ill equipped'. Afterwords, get to work! Since Edric over there, our resident bard appears to have nothing to do, any of you who need 'orienting' can go speak with him."
Edric managed to hide his wince fairly well.
OOC: If your character has been at the fort previous to these new recruits joining, they'd be doing some task about the garrison. If your character is just arriving, feel free to have them approach Edric who will take them to be equipped. If your character is a prisoner scum- *cough Dawgs* they'd be freezing their ass off in the ditch. Also, on a side note, the recruits would have arrived nearby on wagon and then marched the rest of the way. Short walk.
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
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Post by Salvahkiin on Jul 10, 2015 6:08:32 GMT -5
Fenrik walked one foot off, and the other followed, and he landed with a distinct thud on the ground, and the wagon creaked with gladness that its largest passenger had gotten off. Fort Dawnwatch wasn't all he had imagined it to be. Fenrik knew it was only constructed recently, but he had expected...more. He was used to the stone walls of Fort Dawnguard, to the more temperate climate of the Southern Rift, but he was raised not too far east, it wouldn't take long to get reacquainted with the cold.
The group he was sent with walked through the gates, with him standing at the back of the group. They nervously walked their way to the middle of the courtyard. A man with an authoritative stance began speaking to them. Introducing himself as Carlin the Wild, their new commander. He leaned onto his battleaxe, which he often used as a walking stick. The Commander finished his speech, shifting the group towards a man watching the speech, Edric.
Fenrik arrived to Edric first, and eagerly shook the man's hand, with a bit more enthusiasm (and grip) than he'd receive from the others, if they even bothered to shake the man's hand.
"Good to meet you, Edric. I'm Fenrik."
Fenrik's already existing smile extended a bit more, and then retracted to its previous position. He backed away from Edric, allowing others to somewhat crowd around him. Fenrik leaned forward on his axe, his hands resting on the butt of it, it looked rather small, next to Fenrik.
Hopefully he'd make a true difference here, not that he didn't at Fort Dawnguard, but there were plenty there, here he'd have a chance of proving himself worthy of the Dawnguard.
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ThreeDawg
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Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Jul 10, 2015 7:34:23 GMT -5
Fort Prickwatch.
Nothing here but pricks watching each other's pricks.
The Dawnguard sat up there in their 'fort', which had been built by slave hands. At least that's what Sig thought of herself here, a slave. She had been free before, now she was forced to toil for their louts while they played about inside with their little swords and their children's bows. Not one ounce of skill among them, at least... Not anymore.
She looked up from her shovel to browse the horizon. He'd been gone for a long time, the one Dawnguard who cared about the slaves. He'd been gone for so long, another had taken his place on watch. A cruel taskmaster, the one who laughed. There had been more deaths this month than last, and Sig wasn't entirely convinced the cold was to blame.
She slammed the shovel into the cold, hard, dirt. It barely lifted off two handfuls of the stuff by the time she'd threw it out of this trench. Where was the sense in digging in this frosted ground? Winter had come, to dig in winter was folly. It was five times as hard, it was filling with snow, they'll be digging ice out by tomorrow and the trench would go nowhere.
They'll all just freeze to death.
Sig stiffened up at that though, she felt almost frozen to death herself - and she was a Nord. It wasn't a surprise that the first to die from frostbite was the one Wood Elf prisoner. Luckily, she'd been one of the bandits brought in with fur on her back. She'd given most of it away to the male prisoners - who were out here more often than she was - and what was left was tatters and rags. It was just barely enough to save her humility, and some warmth.
She was one of the few in the trench to stop as one of their number slipped and fell upon his own shovel. The Man Who Laughed simply did as his name suggested. The other Dawnguard looked away, but only to keep a beady eye on Berin. The prisoner, she remember his name was Kerick, lay cursing in the snow. He clutched his guts tightly.
Sig dropped her shovel.
She drudged through the snow and muck to her comrade, and knelt down beside him. He had wounded himself on his shovel, it wasn't a deep gash - his organs all still inside him - but it bled. She reached down to him, a word of reassurance upon her lips. She stopped.
"Oi! You! Leave him be, get back to work!"
Sig looked up, the laughing man glared down at her. His crossbow aim sure as sunrise upon her chest. Fuck off, she thought, but she wasn't nearly suicidal enough to say it. "I just want to check he's okay." She shouted back, "If I don't, he'll die out here."
The man made a grunting noise, she could tell he scowled with disdain even though his helm covered his features. "That's not my problem, now move!"
She scowled back, "It should be your problem! If another dies here, it will add a week onto this trench! Do you want that delay to be pegged on your feet? Do you?"
The man made to jump into the trench, although his companion stopped him. "She's right," his companion said, "let that one live. I don't want Carlin breathing down our necks." The Laughing Man stopped, although his eyes were upon Sig now. She'd pay for this act later.
She returned back to the wounded prisoner, who had ceased his shouting, "You're a good'un." He said, "M'name's -"
"Kerick?" She responded, "Aye I remember your name." She grabbed the ragged shirt upon his back, and with both hands tore yet another strip from it. There wasn't much left of this cloth, but a closed wound was a better use for the thin rag. As best she could, she wrapped the strip of cloth around his girth - she managed twice - before tying the ends as tight as she could without tearing the cloth further. "It'll still bleed, but it's better than nothing."
Bells rung, and she turned around, the two Dawnguard looked away. Perfect. She cupped both hands together and placed them upon Kerick's gut. They glowed, a bright yellow that reflected upon the falling and fallen snow. It was her first time using this spell on somebody else, since she'd been afforded the time to learn it from her friend. She'd be in shackles for using magic, though. So she hurried.
Rushed and poorly performed, the spell wasn't magnificent, but it stemmed the bleeding from the wound somewhat - probably even saved Kerick's life in the long run. "Divines bless you, ..?" He said, his question clear to her.
"Call me Sign, or Sig."
She abruptly left the man, and returned to her shovel. She started digging again, although she was weaker for the experience of using magic. The Dawnguard were shouting in the background, something about new arrivals. Great, more mouths for me to feed... and receive abuse from.
"That was a kind gesture, Sig." The greybearded Berin whispered from next to her. When did he get there? "Although it was a foolish one, they won't like you for that, the metal bastards. And if they'd seen you use magic? Well you remember Horvath.."
Both Nords took a moment to loosen their grip on their shovels, and make a sign of respect to Shor.
Then they continued digging, grim determination upon their faces. Just another day at the Fort.
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Post by Zelus on Jul 10, 2015 15:52:36 GMT -5
For many years he’d sat in his home hating his parents, but after sitting there at the funeral service. Having looked around at the people there, he almost pitied them. No one there had cared for them in the end, attending only out of some obligation to some unwritten social norm. In the carriage from Bruma to Riften he’d thought about it. How many would’ve missed him and his family? If he was honest, people would probably miss his family’s wine more than anything. Now the vineyard would be left to overgrow, or his grandfather would take it back and rebuild the estate. As he passed through the border, he was taxed on just about anything the Imperial soldiers felt was taxable. If he’d really paid it much mind, he guessed he might’ve been over taxed, but he didn’t really feel like arguing.
Days later he was in Skyrim, for the first time in fact. It was immediately colder, probably one of the reasons he’d never travelled. In all honesty, he never really desired to travel before… also he’d heard some rather unfortunate things about Nord women. Though he didn’t know whether that was true, he had a feeling going into Skyrim he was soon to find out. For Reyner, it wasn’t a day unless something went wrong, and about twenty miles out from Riften, the wheels of the carriage broke off, causing Reyner and his travelling companions to bash their heads. With a headache of a size usually brought on by alcohol, they all piled out and they realised the carriage was going nowhere.
Reyner decided to gather his things and depart, leaving the others to figure out a way of fixing the carriage. He had a feeling he’d only get in the way anyhow. So, off he went down the road. It wasn’t two hours later, when Reyner was resting on a rock, which the carriage thundered past him. The driver completely missed Reyner sat there on the rock, forcing him to walk the remainder of the way to Riften. Just an average day, Reyner had thought as he began to walk down the road.
Once he finally reached Riften in the dead of night, he had made his way to the inn, where he found himself pleasantly surprised. The Nord women didn’t at all have the faces of men as he had been told. Only the really old had facial hair too. In fact, the Nord women were rather charming, if a little hard faced… broody almost. It was… rather enticing actually. He’d sat there tired, cursing at the thoughts of vampires and the death of his parents. Even if he wanted to charm these ladies and make an utter fool of himself like usual, he wouldn’t be able to go through with it. So, he refrained from acting on his new found admiration and left to sleep.
The next morning he departed from Riften after getting directions from the guards. Unfortunately for him, no carriages went to Fort Dawnguard, so yet again he had to walk. Walk he did… walk and walk and walk. By the time he made it through Dayspring canyon, he was almost sick of the sound of his own footsteps. He was also cursing his feet. He’d never walked so far before. He’d camped in the woods and killed a few wolves, avoided bears and all manner of nasties that lived in the forest near Riften. Everything hurt, but as he stood in front of the imposing white stone fort, Reyner couldn’t help but be impressed. He scratched at his golden hair as he stood in awe, before his moment was ruined by someone giving him an annoyed growl. “Hey, idiot. Get inside and quit gawking.” One of the guards told him, ushering him inside. Once he confirmed he was new and willing to sign up, he joined the other recruits who had gathered in the inner room. They were informed that they would be redirected to a newer fort, where they would be fully integrated into the Dawnguard. It happened all rather suddenly. One ‘minute’ he was in Fort Dawnguard, the next he was on a wagon to this new place. Fort Dawnwatch or something. Reyner thought to himself that the Dawnguard needed some better names for their forts, as well as more men. They also needed actual carriages, with padded seats. Reyner could never get comfortable in the backs of them. He felt every bump and shudder on the uneven roads of Skryim…. Who even laid these stone cobbled roads anyway? Had no one altered them in years? By the time they were at Fort Dawnwatch, Reyner was thoroughly irritable and overly tired. He was glad when the wagon finally stopped and they were told to get out and walk.
“Finally,” he growled, standing up on the wood. As a rather large Nord hopped off the back of the wagon, the sudden shift in weight almost knocked Reyner off his feet. He had grabbed onto the side just in case, stopping himself from falling off the side and face first into the freezing mud. He breathed a sigh of relief, before slowly walked off the carriage and climbing down. He’d taken only a few steps from the wagon when suddenly his foot and half his leg disappeared into the murky depths of a puddle. Reyner, knocked off balance, landed with a heavy thud on his side. Soon enough half his body was covered in cold mud. He cursed himself and his life, under his breath he muttered more than a few Imperial curses, before eventually climbing out of the puddle. The extent of the damage was seen though as his clothes clung to him. He shivered some as he stepped away. “Well today just gets better and better.” He muttered, wiping a muddy hand on his clothing. Ignoring any reaction to his fall, Reyner fell in line with the others, and marched off to the fort.
As they went along, a bell went off, announcing their arrival. There was shouting from inside the fort, but Reyner couldn’t follow what was said. In truth he was barely even listening. Instead he was looking over at the prisoners that toiled in a trench on the outer side of the wooden walls of the fort. He stared calmly. They weren’t like him; they were prisoners, barely clothed and forced to work outside. Reyner felt sorry for them, snow covered the ground in places and it seemed like it wanted to snow more. Was this what happened when people committed crimes in Skyrim? Shaking his head, he turned and continued on. Hopefully he’d get near a fire soon… or get inside so he could change his clothes.
Eyes were upon them as they entered, and immediately Reyner felt self-conscious. It was quite clear that he was covered in icy mud from the waist down, whilst everyone else was dry. No one would’ve seen him fall, so what must they have thought of this literally dirty imperial? When he was inside, he came to a halt with the others, and that was when Carlin started to talk. Reyner became very quiet looking up at the guy. So this man was in charge. He sounded quite forceful, as did every leader… Hopefully Reyner wouldn’t humiliate him like that man from the Imperial army recruitment place back home…. Otherwise this man really might behead him for it. Now that he’d thought it, Reyner knew it was almost certainly going to happen. It was probably too late to quit, right? Thankfully, Reyner didn’t need any of their steel… unless they were prepared to make him a special spear that was. His spear was good and worthwhile… plus he was pretty good with it. Until he could convince them to do him a custom job, he would be more than satisfied with what he had. Still… looking around, the armour they wore didn’t look half bad. Once told to talk to Edric, he glanced over at him. Maybe he could show him wear to get changed. Unfortunately for him, the large Nord moved in first.
Reyner moved in, shivering quite a bit from the mud before catching sight a room off to the side. Looking around, he guessed no one would notice him quietly slip away and change into the spare clothes he kept in his bag would they? Nah… Probably not. So that’s what he did. Once he found the right moment, Reyner swept around the back of the crowd and went to change.
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Post by aardvarklord on Jul 10, 2015 16:00:00 GMT -5
The clanking of practice swords filled the air around Runa, dust and snow kicking up as she and her partner went at it furiously. While her opponent had his teeth clenched and his eyes tightened as he stared down his opponent, the big nord woman was grinning like she was in the middle of a fine meal around a blazing bonfire, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment. It was something of a known fact of working at the fort that she enjoyed sparring, and while she wasn't an especially flashy fighter, she definitely savored every moment of the training, trying to take every bit of lesson she could. Besides, in these frigid conditions, this was a cheap and fun way to keep warm. Sure there was some bruising involved, but that was what healing magic was for, and she'd take bruising over being so cold that even the nords were bundled up any day.
Her opponent was another one of the people who had been around when the fort was first garrisoned by their contingent, and they were more or less a good match for each other. He tagged her a couple of times, and she was nailing him more than her share as well, though in her humble opinion she was the better of the two. Eventually they both had to take a break, pausing to catch their breath as they shared a waterskin.
"Damn Korlen..." she muttered as she took the skin from him, chuckling lightly, "Damn near took my head off there." The moment it was in her hands she took a big gulp, letting out a satisfied gasp as she took in the wonderful liquid. Ah... the one good thing about having this much snow: all the fresh water you could want. And personally, she thought that fresh snow water was some of the finest stuff out there. Well... it's nothing compared to the some nice mead, especially the Honningbrew stuff. Gods... why did they have to get put out of business? Each one of those bottles was something to be savored.
"Yeah, I was pretty damn good, wasn't I?" her companion said with a laugh, snatching the waterskin out of her hand once she was done, "Still, not too bad yourself."
Runa smirked at his compliment and waved him on, "Oh... is that all you got to say? Please, let's hear more of it." Of course, nothing was coming and he just grinned at her playfully before taking a big gulp. Shaking her head with amusement, she began going through the lengthy process of healing herself and Korlen, she couldn't help but let her eyes wander across the fort. Out through the gates she could vaguely see the prisoners working in the yard. Honestly, she didn't know what to think of them, because on one hand some of them were bandit pieces of shit who probably should've been dead by now and should be grateful for their lease on life... but on the other she wasn't exactly one to believe in wanton cruelty. Whenever she was put in charge of them, she only held the reins as tight as necessary, and damn sure didn't take injuries lightly--she still wasn't certain whether or not that was because of some sense of benevolence or if she just wanted things to keep working. She damn sure didn't want to be the one digging those trenches, and if prisoners died then it would mean a harder workload for them in the future.
She also occasionally looked at her brethren in arms thoughtfully, chuckling to herself as she saw Edric sitting around with a thumb up his ass as she considered going over there to see about finding their resident lute-player something to do. Of course, as such things went, her gaze eventually wound up falling on one person specifically, and that was the man standing atop the wall, that magnificent ginger beard swaying lightly in the breeze. Runa absolutely adored Carlin. Before she joined the Dawnguard, some part of her had been afraid that the Forsworn-born commander wouldn't live up to her girlish fantasies, and perhaps to some extent her fears were confirmed. Yet, those few confirmed fears were the sorts that didn't particularly matter: the important ones, the traits that she truly admired rather than just blindly daydreamed about, those were very much intact. Chuckling at her own ridiculous blush, she bid her sparring partner a light 'good day' and found herself a seat to start tinkering with her crossbow, trying to take the slack out of its apparently faulty goatsfoot.
And just in time too, because as she sat down, the bell announced that their reinforcements finally arriving. About damn time. Runa loved this lot, but every little bit helped... maybe she would be able to get someone besides their group to start cleaning the chamber pots for once. That would be nice. Though... they didn't look like the best bunch... heck that one Imperial looked like he fell into a manure pile. Poor bastard. She listened to Carlin's speech, regardless of the fact that it wasn't meant for her, and couldn't help but snicker when Edric was singled out to handle walking the folks around. Once the commander walked off, she couldn't resist saying not-quite-under-her-breath to the point that Edric might have heard her, "I always tell you to find something to look busy, but does the string man ever listen to Runa? Nooooo.... don't listen to Runa, mmm mmm. She don't know what she's talkin' about." Of course, if he did notice, she would make sure to grin toothily at him. Part of her expected to get ordered around for that comment--but she didn't mind. She liked having something to do.
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Post by GuardsGhost on Jul 13, 2015 13:46:43 GMT -5
Edric rolled his eyes after noticing the half-soaked Imperial, focusing his attention on him and letting out a snort of sympathy. "Looks like a wet puppy..." He muttered to himself, and then shot a dirty look over at Runa. It was ruined by a grin that split onto his face in response to her own grin, "String man is now assigning Runa to go help the soaking Imperial not die of the cold. Go assist him." It was then that he found himself face to face with a man a tad taller than himself, offering him a handshake. Edric raised a brow, a bit surprised at it, but accepted the presumably gloved hand with one of his own, giving it a quick shake.
"Right then, fall in you lot and I'll give you the run down. As many of you no doubt have no idea about why this fort exists, I'm going to give you an idea. There's been increased vampire sightings in the region. Most of it we're ignoring as old women sinning yarns, but some of it is down right scary. So we've been assigned here to investigate Vampire activity in the region, and ascertain whether or not it's the damned Volikhar or some other clan of whelps trying to expand their prestige." He shrugged a bit, "Now, I wouldn't worry too much. The fort might not look like much, but outside of the Imperial engineers in the Legion, it's one of the best you'll see. It's got strong walls, and we've got plenty of labor working outside to make it stronger."
He paused a moment, looking over the group, "The wretches outside are criminals. Most of them are rapists and murderers, rather than thieves. Bandits. Don't make idle chatter with them. They're a clever bunch, and we've already had several escape attempts. Carlin's got anyone who makes conversation with them on latrine digging duty. For the horses. Now, for those of you who don't have any weapons, you'll want to get into the armory and grab yourself something to use. Afterwords, Carlin will want you to just make yourself busy. You won't have any assigned jobs as of yet but that'll change as the snow gets worse. It -will- get worse, for those of you aren't native to our homeland."
Edric took another pause to catch his breath, looking around. "Right then, any specific questions or concerns? Who doesn't have a weapon or armor?"
-----
Outside of the fort, the forest had gone surprisingly silent.
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
Posts: 1,055
Likes: 4
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Post by Salvahkiin on Jul 14, 2015 7:56:42 GMT -5
"Right then, fall in you lot and I'll give you the run down. As many of you no doubt have no idea about why this fort exists, I'm going to give you an idea. There's been increased vampire sightings in the region. Most of it we're ignoring as old women spinning yarns, but some of it is down right scary." It was always downright scary. You know, you never came across a vampire that wasn't trying to kill you. But it was in their nature, to hunt flesh. Of course, vampires weren't too scary for Fenrik, he'd faced a few, and the Dawnguard trained him to not fear his enemy. Still, when anything is running at you with a sword, intending to kill you, you panic, you begin to fear. It's what you did with this fear that defined you as a warrior, or rather, alive.
"So we've been assigned here to investigate Vampire activity in the region, and ascertain whether or not it's the damned Volkihar or some other clan of whelps trying to expand their prestige." He'd never faced the Volkihar personally, but Fenrik had heard tell of their clan. Not just tales that you'd tell the children to scare, either. The true stuff, the firsthand experiences, the tales that would scare the pants off of a seasoned warrior. The Volkihar were the major vampire power in Skyrim, they were the ones to truly fear. You'd come across a whelp from time to time, simply feeding because it could detect your scent, and it'd loudly come after you. Not the Volkihar, if they hunted at all, they'd be damn smart about it, and you wouldn't even know they were near you until it was too late.
"Now, I wouldn't worry too much. The fort might not look like much, but outside of the Imperial engineers in the Legion, it's one of the best you'll see. It's got strong walls, and we've got plenty of labor working outside to make it stronger." That was a relief, a sigh of relief, actually. It may not be Fort Dawnguard, impenetrable, but even these walls would stop the vampires for a time, assuming they came at them in decent numbers. But they wouldn't stand a siege for long, their stalwart warriors would charge out to meet the evil scum head on, and assuming it wasn't the Volkihar, they'd most likely win due to superior training, and more than likely numerical superiority, it wasn't common for the whelp clans to be large in number, and the calmer clans wouldn't attack the Dawnguard at such a location due to fear of vengeance. Fenrik wondered about the scantily dressed 'workers' digging the trenches. Many would die of the cold, many would simply drop dead from being overworked, some might even die in an escape attempt. At least the Commander of this fort had the sense to bring them inside once it got dark, even if they were considered lesser than the Dawnguard, they were still people.
"The wretches outside are criminals. Most of them are rapists and murderers, rather than thieves. Bandits. Don't make idle chatter with them. They're a clever bunch, and we've already had several escape attempts. Carlin's got anyone who makes conversation with them on latrine digging duty. For the horses." Criminals. Murderers. Events from Fenrik's past appeared in his mind, playing back to him. He got a little bit paler, and got a sick feeling in his stomach. Perhaps their situation was different, like Edric said, they were bandits, they probably killed dozens, when their minds were clear. He was a criminal, a murderer, but here he was, in full Dawnguard attire, being welcomed to a place he would call home. He had to wonder if any of these people knew his past. They did not seem to know, and in Fenrik's opinion, they did not need to know. If anyone was studying Fenrik's face during this speech, they would've noticed his smile disappear. He snapped back to reality, and his lips formed their trademark smile.
"Right then, any specific questions or concerns? Who doesn't have a weapon or armor?" With the completion of Edric's introductory speech, Fenrik went about making himself useful around here. He walked away, and assessed the Fort, looking around for something to do. There was plenty to do, but he was having trouble deciding on which specific task to do. Then an all too familiar feeling made up his mind. A gust of wind blew through, and sent an icy chill up the gentle giant's spine. There was one remedy to the damned chill in these parts, going inside. But if inside was cold, how would it be warmed up. Fire. Fenrik saw a big pile of wood, ready to be cut into firewood. He walked at a brisk pace to the pile, and sat his own battleaxe down. Such a weapon would simply be overkill for a task such as this. He grabbed a traditional woodcutting axe. It felt small in his hands, it probably looked small in his hands, most things did. Fenrik picked up a bit of wood, and sat it on the trunk, and began cutting the wood.
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Jul 14, 2015 9:01:22 GMT -5
(Unfortunately, it's probably best if we skip me this turn. I'd like to post but beyond "Sig is still digging, it's quiet out here today" there's not much I can do right now that I couldn't do as part of another post later. Ya dig?)
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Post by aardvarklord on Jul 14, 2015 10:19:15 GMT -5
Well, that figured. Oooooh well. Runa snickered at Edric's order, neither in a mood to argue nor complain, instead slinging her crossbow across her back and hopping to her feet with a facetious salute (the chest thumping kind), "Yessir, Sergeant Lutebutt, sir." At least she didn't have to deal with the bulk of the new recruits, and who knew--maybe Soggy over there would be entertaining. Heading off at a good clip, she couldn't help but look back at Edric's expression as he was confronted by the giant of a man, grinning the whole while. Eeeeyup, she got the good end of this deal--he had to handle the tedium of bringing people up to speed on all they already knew, she got to pat a guy down to get him nice and dry. Yep. Good end of the deal indeed. She did make sure to stop and grab a large rag she could use to help in the matter though--no sense trying to dry him off with her clothes.
The room he had chosen to clean off wasn't anything special, barely more than a storage closet really... actually that might have been it and they just hadn't started filling it up, since they were new here and all. Coming up to the door, she spoke up as she put her hand on the handle, "Hey, Soggy, Stringfingers asked me to help you dry--" and at about that moment she opened the door... just in time to see the fellow butt naked. Now, some of the female Dawnguard probably would have freaked out in that moment, since seeing the opposite sex wasn't something you were supposed to do outside the bedroom, and soldier or not some of the ladies (and men for that matter) were of pretty conservative minds. But while she wasn't exactly blasé about the matter, obviously surprised and stiffening at the sight, she also didn't panic. She somewhat instinctively gave him a once-over for a brief moment, eyes wide as she looked before realizing what she was doing and shaking her head to get herself to stop. Looking back up at the Imperial's face she tossed the rag at his head with an amused smirk and said lightly, "Let me know when you get some pants on."
Once she popped outside to wait for him to at least take care of his decency, she leaned up against the door and crossed her arms, trying not to blush (and failing) as she waited for him to cover up his junk. "Not bad though, I'd give you a seven out of ten... maybe an eight," she added aloud, chuckling lightly. He actually had a nice body, for an Imperial anywho. Sure he was short by nord standards, but compared to the other races of men the nords were giants, so she couldn't really fault him there... and actually he was good size when you considered he wasn't a nord. Actually... he might have been taller than Lutebutt over there... maybe... she'd need to see them side-by-side. Well, this was amusing. Deciding that she might have inadvertently humiliated him, she decided to chime in a sort of round-about apology, "Don't worry 'bout it, Soggy. Not the worst thing I've seen. Word of warning, do NOT ask what I caught one of my fellow recruits doing a week into training. Shit happens when you live in the same 'house' without locked doors."
As for the silence of the forest... she didn't particularly notice right now. Things were noisy enough with Plucky Fingers and his lot jabbering about introductions to the fort, not to mention the other usual day-to-day operations. Nice day though... as things went out here. Okay, no it wasn't... it was miserable. But hey, at least they had fresh water to work with. That was always nice.
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Post by Zelus on Jul 14, 2015 11:44:12 GMT -5
Having not heard Edric’s order to one of the female guards to go help him, he disappeared into a rather small room barely fit to be a closet space. Still it was rather empty, with he’d been thankful for. There wasn’t a chance for him to humiliate himself further by opening a door and having everything fall over him. “Why do bad things happen to me around people? Every single time. It’s like I’m cursed or something…” he muttered to himself continuously as he dropped his bag to the floor and leaned his spear against the wall. He’d never really looked into whether he actually had a curse or not. Who got cursed nowadays anyway? They were stories in books… even vampirism was only a kind of curse… it was more like a disease if anything.
Still he grumbled as he started undoing his clothes, looking around at the various things that sat in storage. How did he even find the ONE puddle in the snowy Skyrim anyway? There was snow everywhere, but he found a puddle. Though if he was honest he was glad it wasn’t ice. He wouldn’t put it past himself to break his leg on his very first day. What an example that would bring. Still wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened. Or the worst thing that could happen. He didn’t even want to fathom what the worst thing that could happen. Probably get enthralled by some kind of Daedric overlord or something. Though why anyone would want him was beyond him. Either way… He just had to dry off… somehow and then change into his spare clothes. Using what was dry from the clothes he tried to dab himself dry.
Suddenly a blast of cold air caused the man to almost stand to attention, turning immediate to face the door. There was a rather loud yelp from inside the room, though anyone who would’ve heard it must’ve needed to have been standing fairly close by. With wide eyes he stood there frozen for a moment, not exactly sure what to do. Whilst he had flashbacks to things that had happened before, a series of incredibly humiliating events, he gulped a bit. “Woah, hey! Lady, tu-turn around! Ge-get out! Do something that’s not looking at me!” he snapped, though it wasn’t full of anger or annoyance, more a sense of fear. He moved his bundle of clothes to attempt to drag back some dignity… if he ever had anything like that left. In all honesty, he really didn’t but maybe he could pretend with these people. Given his current position, chances are he wouldn’t have much for very long either.
Throwing the rag at his head, the woman left leaving him to shiver there holding the clothes. The rag flopped onto the floor with a small clap and once he realised she was gone, he quickly bent over and took it up to dry himself off. He huffed out sadly as he glanced over at the door. “This is going juuuussst wonderfully.” He said to himself, as he tip toed over to his bag and dragged out his spare clothes. He shot a glance over at the door when the woman started talking to him through it.
‘Was this really the time to start yapping on about-wait did she call me an eight..? Really? Huh. How about that… Get your head back on track Reyner; this obviously isn’t the time to be thinking about such things’ he bit his lip a bit in thought, though now he was quickly pulling on a new pair of trousers, more importantly they were dry. Also they weren’t covered in ink either, so that was a plus. His spare clothes often did get covered in ink if he was careless with his bag, and thankfully this time everything was okay.
When she started talking to him again he instantly responded. “Why what did you catch happen-no wait, forget I asked I’ll only end up blurting something out and make a fool out of myself.” He called as he pulled on his shirt. Also they didn’t lock their doors? Surely that was practically the first line of defence should they get attacked right? After a few moments he was dressed and had folded his clothes up. “I’m uh… decent… I… I guess.” He called, sounding unsure, even though he was actually dressed. He opened the door for her and then walked back over to his bag and pulled it onto his back before grabbing his spear and soggy clothes.
“Could… we please avoid the soggy. I don’t want it to catch on. I just want everything to be nice and normal here… that goes for what just happened okay. That… That didn’t happen. Not at all.”
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
Posts: 1,219
Likes: 33
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Post by ThreeDawg on Jul 16, 2015 19:28:41 GMT -5
Dirt, dirt, dirt. It wouldn't be that bad if it wasn't like digging through stones with a spear. A broken spear. With blunt edges. She threw another scratching of dirt over her shoulder, although most of it was frost by this point. The pile hadn't grown much in the last hour or so, apart from the thin layer of snow it had collected. It was such hard work for so little effort, it truly was a punishment for what 'crimes' she had commited in the past. It was a tough decision, but she'd rather be rotting in a dungeon cell - where she could at least plot an escape - than dieing out here in the cold, working to keep your limbs intact. Yet... She had to be greatful she wasn't born with a third leg, the Dawnguard had been relatively lax on her. Jobs like this were few and far between for Sig, most of the time she spent in the warm kitchen slaving over a hot stove.
Although... Without Kelvar... The days were beginning to blur. He'd bring her food sometimes, which was nice. It helped keep her strong. Along with when he'd sneak her out for some training. She didn't know how he'd managed it, but she was greatful for the attention he gave her. She looked up again, looking out into the forest. She hoped he was out there somewhere, that he'd come back and help make the rest of her punishment that little more bareable. But that was unlikely... She knew that the one thing worse than the Dawnguard, was their foe. Vampires. They'd taken her crew, they'd taken her one friend here... Remembering just how much her life had changed over the last year threw her into a near rage, it helped. The ground seemed to crumble at her anger, the pain in her joints from the cold ebbing away just enough for her to feel normal again.
"Ease off, Sig. You'll tire yourself out, no point in wasting your energy for these godless pricks." Berin mumbled from beside her, just low enough for the digging to drown out his words from the Dawnguard, "We don't get off for good behaviour here, no matter what you do. Just get yourself killed quicker."
Sig glanced over to the aging Nord. His words spoke of a broken man who had accepted his fate - but the way he held himself, it was clear he was far from broken. She'd seen him a few times before, he always had this air about him. Like he was ready to break at any point, crush a Dawnguard's skull in and make off for the woods. He had that look now... Like he'd do anything to escape... She gave the Dawnguard a glance over her shoulder, it'd be easy enough. The lot of them could over power the two guards, even better they'd been provided shovels - anything with a metal edge was a weapon in the hands of a desperate Nord.
One of them turned to her. "What are you looking at, scum." the Laughing one spoke out, "Get back to work before I-". He stopped, a deep gutteral cry breaking his monologue. She heard it, she knew what it was. The gentle 'woosh', like Kyne had whispered into her ear. But the cry, the cry made the hair on her neck stand on age in a way even the cold couldn't do. There was a heavy thud, as one of the Dawnguard fell into the snow. There was a strange stretch of time where nothing happened, just a wave of shock wandering over the trench. Then the man cried out again, clutching the arrow buried into his leather tunic. One of the bandits, a burly Nord she remembered was named Broke Tooth, let out a roar and charged the Laughing Dawnguard with his shovel. The bolt that crushed through his ribcage stopped him dead in his tracks, for the weapon's credit it managed to not only stop the massive Nord but send him stumbling backwards from the impact. Backwards into the trench. But it was enough, more prisoners rose up and jumped the standing Dawnguard, he managed to deliver a smash to ones head that let out a sickening crack - but it wasn't long before he fell under their weight and his cries were silenced by the blades of a shovel.
Then Kyne kissed her ear again, and this time one of the prisoners fell with an arrow in his back, and several fell not far from the trench. Sig had someone been thrown to the ground during the commotion, she sat on her rear, looking up in utter shock as yet again her world was thrown into unrest. A hand struck her forcefully on the head, "Run girl!" came the shout, she looked at the voice. It was Berin, his eyes wild and fierce. Like a wolf sensing freedom from a snare. He didn't wait for her response, leaping out of the trench and towards the treeline in the opposite direction from the arrows. The other prisoners begun to follow him. Sig scrambled up, but while still on all fours - deep in the trench, she heard yet another voice.
"Please, wa-ait!" It cried, it was clear the voice was in immense pain. She turned in its direction, it was the Dawnguard. He had acquired another arrow to his first, this one was right through his leg. "Help me, please!" he shouted again, and held out a hand in her direction, "By Shor, don't leave me out here!" She looked away from the man, closing her eyes. Freedom was in her grasp, even as she opened them again she could see the other prisoners running off into the distance. Several had fallen to arrows (or were they bolts? Perhaps the Dawnguard chose to fire on them too), and crawled instead of ran - if they were lucky. A couple of them weren't lucky, their bodies lay still in the snow. There was no doubt freedom was possible, even with the head start the others had gotten. She was quicker than they were, arguably she probably had more stamina at this moment too - even if adrenalin was pushing the odds in their favour.
"Please..."
She clambered out of the trench, got to her feet, and grabbed the mans arm. She lifted him from the ground, and was surprised to be joined by another at his other side. Kerick gripped the Dawnguards other arm and threw it over his shoulder, it was clear he wouldn't have been able to make the run - even if he had his wound would only get worse out in the woods. She thought he probably knew that too. She looked at him, and him her. She nodded her head once, and they lifted the Dawnguard up between them. He cried out in pain, but his good foot managed to hit the snow. It wasn't a run, in fact it wasn't even a jog - it was an excited limp if anything. But they begun their trip back to the Fort. It wasn't that far, but every step seemed like an eternity. Arrows rained down upon them, and Sig could hear a new type of scream coming from the distance. A roar, like an army of beasts had risen from the forests to attack them. The roars seemed to speed the three of them up, even if the Dawnguard had to be dragged the rest of the way.
"Open the damn gates!" she cried out, her voice carrying Kyne's will alone, "Open them!". They reached the wooden gates, an arrow thudding mere inches from them and burrying into the wood. She slammed a fist into the gate, she'd rather punch the thing down that die today.
The Dawnguard cried out, his voice hoarse from pain, "Open the gates! It's Sorald!" There was a moments silence, followed by the sound of wood being shoved aside. The gates opened but a crack - and the three practically fell inside. Dawnguard rushed over and grabbed their own, and Sig scrambled forwards in the dirt. Face first, she lay down heaving for breath. Even the ground here felt safer, friendlier. She looked to find Kerick, and noticed a shaft sticking from his back.
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Post by GuardsGhost on Jul 18, 2015 21:16:38 GMT -5
Carlin had been moving from the wall down to the courtyard as men and women began to return to their daily tasks, the excitement of the new recruits swiftly fading away. However, as the arrows began to whistle, and men began to scream and bustle, Carlin whirled around. "ONTO THE WALLS!" He bellowed, and the Dawnguard closest to the structure ran up the steps on either side of the gate, crossbows cradled in their arms.
The gates were slammed shut into position, and Edric scurried up the walls as well. He had grabbed his own crossbow, and he aimed it at one of the prisoners that was fleeing towards the woods. The entire scene was just..hectic. That was the only word for it. Then, the man closest to Edric fell from the walls, an arrow embedded in his chest. His eyes went wide, and he ducked down behind the parapet to gain some cover as whoever was out there began firing on the Dawnguard on the wall. "Who's attacking us?!" Edric shouted out to no one in particular, grabbing another bolt and beginning to load it into the crossbow.
More arrows thudded into the walls, and another Dawnguard slumped against the wall. A few of them began to open the gates, and Edric's eyes squinted down at what was outside, half believing that the men opening the gate had lost their minds until he heard the shouting. "That's Sorald!" He echoed, standing up. An arrow whizzed by, missing him and landing into the snow behind him. He ducked down again, scrambling for his helmet. He pulled the steel helmet, the sun of the Dawnguard etched into the forehead, and pulled it on. His world became incredibly limited to the slits of the helmet, he could see a bit above him and to the sides, but his view of what was below him was non-existant. It was better than losing his head to a stray arrow however.
Suddenly, the arrow fire began to cease. From the woods, a warbling cry rose up from dozens of throats. The brush came alive as Forsworn warriors came charging out from the tree's and bushes, weapons in their hand. Two of the groups were carrying ladders, and they came running. It was easily the entire warrior compliment of one of the Clans, here to sack this fort and claim it for their own. The Dawnguard answered with crossbow bolts, but as they poked their heads up arrows would answer in return. It was a very bad situation.
Carlin growled, his weapon in his hands and shouted out: "More to the wall! Don't let them get up their ladders!"
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Salvahkiin
Archer
My Siren's name is Brick, and she is the prettiest.
Posts: 1,055
Likes: 4
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Post by Salvahkiin on Jul 19, 2015 2:07:50 GMT -5
Fenrik was happily chopping away at the wood when he heard the first scream. He couldn't tell if it was one of theirs, a prisoner, or someone else, but it clearly caused the person pain. Fenrik didn't waste time springing into action. He dropped the axe he was using to cut wood, picked up his own, and ran over to the walls even before Commander Carlin issued the command. He picked up a crossbow, and a satchel of bolts, and grabbed the biggest helmet he could find, it fit very snugly, perhaps even constricting, but a man without a helmet was a man with a weakness.
He climbed the stairs, and ducked behind cover next to Edric, sitting his large battleaxe down.. "Who's attacking us?!" the man yelled. Fenrik couldn't tell, nobody could see who was attacking them. Vampires? It'd be the most logical guess, but they'd use magic as well as archery, and Fenrik hadn't seen a fireball, or a streak of lightning being shot at them. He looked over the wall, but after a VERY short survey, he ducked back down, not seeing any targets to fire at. Then the arrows stopped.
After the arrows stopped, there came a cry, a war cry. It had to be the Forsworn. Fenrik looked over, and their numbers were staggering, it looked like an entire clan, and it most likely was. At least they had a target now, which meant they could stop these bastards. Fenrik loosed a bolt upon one of the berserkers, hitting him in the upper middle area of his chest. He ducked back down to reload, which with Fenrik's strength, was easy and fast.
"More to the wall! Don't let them get up their ladders!", Fenrik loosed another bolt, he didn't stay up long enough to check if it hit anything, twas a bit of a risk staying up for too long. Fenrik sat his crossbow down, and picked up his battleaxe, ready to chop down any Forsworn that make the mistake of climbing the walls. "They won't even set foot in this compound." Fenrik said with no doubt in his voice.
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Post by aardvarklord on Jul 19, 2015 20:22:08 GMT -5
Runa chuckled at the newcomer's antics while she was waiting for him. It amused her that he actually went to ask about that ridiculous event... it actually made her blush just thinking about it. Not that the current embarrassment of walking in on a guy buck naked was anything worth getting worked up about or anything. Nope. Not in the slightest. Okay... it was totally embarrassing, hopefully the guy wouldn't make a big deal out of it--at least nobody seemed to have noticed. Hrmm... she'd have to ask him whether it would be funny to bring up around the campfire as one of those stories. Anonymously of course. When he came out, she had been expecting him to just be in his trousers so she could finish helping him dry off--but was pleasantly surprised to see he managed it on his own and was fully clothed. Spoke well that he wasn't going to start flirting with her right off the bat too. Scoffing at his request for a name change and for things to go 'normally,' she rolled her eyes and said with a wave of her hand, "Fine, fine. So, what do I call y--?"
At about that moment the shout came from outside, her eyes immediately going that direction and her hand already going to the crossbow out of reflex. She was already moving as something sounding like a riot filled the air outside, and as she started up she turned over her shoulder to snap at Soggy, "Come on Normie! You got a crossbow? Time to use it!" Above her she saw people falling from the wall, and she could already feel her blood boiling, a snarl growing on her lips as she prepared to get some payback. Yet, by the time she made her way to the base of the wall and was starting to head up there, crossbow out, she began hearing the shouts to open the gate. At first she'd thought that it was just the prisoners, which--while she sympathized--she wasn't about to risk getting murdered over. But then she heard that Sorald was with them, and immediately she joined the chorus of people trying to get the walls open, and when three people--two of whom were obviously prisoners--fell through, she was right there to catch Sorald. Her crossbow was already on the ground as she skidded to her knees beside Sorald, clearing just far enough back for those better trained in the medical arts scrambled over him.. Reaching into her belt, she pulled out a vial with a thick red liquid and brought it up into the man's face. "I'll give you this once the arrows are out." The man screamed twice as he was freed from the barbs, and the moment he stopped she practically forced the liquid down his throat, staying on hand only long enough to make sure he didn't choke on it and that he'd stabilized enough to be moved.
Letting the potion and the better-trained people do their work, she looked over at the prisoners... the prisoners that had saved one of her brothers' lives. And then her eyes locked on the shaft protruding from one of them. In the moment, the fact that they were prisoners meant nothing to her. "Oi! Get over here and heal him too!" she ordered one of the folks as Sorald was being hauled off. The look on the Dawnguard soldier's face seemed to say 'are you nuts?' but she simply snapped, "DID I STUTTER?!" That got his ass in gear and he went over to Kerick, albeit grumbling rapidly under his breath as he did so. As he did that, she turned to her fellow nord lying in the snow and, working off a snap, gut decision, she decided that she'd probably be trustable at least with a potion for one of her fellow bandits. Honor among thieves, right? "Hey! Get up!" she ordered tensely as she pulled another potion out of her belt, the second of her three healing potions she kept on hand, "Once the arrow's out, can I trust you to give this to him?" At about that moment the screaming sounded from the fields and she knew that the charge was coming, her eyes turning briefly to the wall--she needed to get up there, NOW. Carlin's order was just the icing on the cake. "CAN I TRUST YOU?" Answer or no, she shoved the vial into the bandit's arms and sprinted for the walls. She had no idea why she just did that, why she had tried to save a pair of murderous thieves--but right now they needed every hand they needed, and they had just shown at least some conscience by saving Sorald. If nothing else, it was life for a life.
As she ran up the ramp, she pulled out another potion, this one puke orange and viscous--it was the foulest of foul things to drink. Even as she downed it she felt the urge to puke, but she forced it down, and by the time she reached the wall, crossbow up, and she felt exactly what she needed beginning to take hold. She felt like she could knock down a tree at this point... or get hit by one (basically, a fortify health and armor potion). As she pulled the trigger of her crossbow and came up alongside Edric, she said quickly with an expression half-way between worried and excited, "Hope you don't have too much of a head start!" Of course, her outer bravado was one thing... as she watched her crossbow bolt nick a Forsworn in the shoulder (and fail to do much more than irritate him), she felt her heart pounding and a bit of worry filling her. That... was a lot of people. Trying not to think about it, she racked the goatsfoot and loaded another round, taking aim properly this time, doing as the folks back at the fort had taught her. Take a breath... aim... exhale... CLICK. A bolt flew out and hit one of the Forsworn attackers square in the gut and she toppled over, her mouth open but her screams drowned out by the horde. Prepping another bolt, she realized as she looked out that this was going to take a lot more than good aim... yeah she'd need to fire a lot quicker... all of them would if they were going to survive to nightfall.
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Post by Zelus on Jul 20, 2015 6:49:17 GMT -5
Reyner was already about to speak when she cut herself off. “R-” was about all he got out when they both heard the shouts. Reyner’s eye quickly turned to look past her through the door. It sounded like there was something going on out there. Reyner looked worried as she told him to follow after her. He didn’t have a crossbow. Hell, he’d only ever shot a bow in his life before and that was only for sport. He wasn’t any good and picking up a crossbow right now was just a dumb move. So instead he pulled the spear off his back. With his right hand three quarters up the pole, he pointed the blade at the ground, resting the rest of the pole against his elbow and his back. After throwing his wet clothes aside, he chased after her, looking around at the chaos surrounding them.
Bodies fell from the wall, and Reyner looked up with wide eyes. What even happened whilst they were in the room? Without any real direction to go, Reyner just followed after Runa. They were heading for the walls, when calls for the gate to be opened and it soon opened. In fell two of the prisoners and the man named Sorald. Reyner stood nearby not really knowing what to do. He couldn’t really offer any help, that wasn’t what he’d been taught to do. He just looked up at the walls and grimaced. “I’m going up on the walls,” He called, passing by the pile of wounded. It was best he was out of the way, knowing the other members of the Dawnguard probably had this all in order. With great agility he bounded up the stairs faster than would be expected and then found some cover near the others on the wall.
Runa was busy handing out her potions to the others and meanwhile Carlin, Eldric and the giant Fenrik were all on the walls taking shelter and firing occasionally at the foresworn. From what he had seen of Nord culture, it almost seemed that all the stereotypes came from these savages. He didn’t know who or what they are, in truth, he barely knew anything about the groups within Skyrim itself. Being an imperial and a well to do one at that, allowed him to have a certain ignorance so naturally he believed certain myths people told him in jest. The forsworn had ladders now, and almost immediately they were on the walls. With the ‘giant’ taking one ladder, Reyner took one of the others. Whenever one of the Dawnguard would come up charging, he spun around and thrust his spear through their stomachs, twisted and ripped it out. He wasn’t built for fighting on the wall; in fact, Reyner was more adept at fighting in the open. Speed wasn’t exactly a benefit when you were forced to stay still behind a wall, occasionally dodging arrows. He wasn’t even fighting vampires… these were just people. Whether he’d feel bad about killing them after this was over remained to be seen. What motivations would these guys have to attack a fort occupied by the Dawnguard of all people? It was practically suicide, even if some of their guys had been killed. They’d even fired on the prisoners too, so it wasn’t as if this was a breakout. Were they just savages? Reyner wasn’t sure either way; he just had to follow orders.
Soon enough Runa had gotten to the walls, nearby, and Reyner couldn’t help but snicker at her comment to Edric. The battle had only just started and he wanted it to end quickly. He knew it wouldn’t, they were under siege, and it was clear this had been well planned. They had ladders after all. It was going to continue for hours before too long. It would surely give him a chance to get his kills in. In truth, Reyner actually hadn’t killed that many of the foresworn, with the accurate crossbow shots from the wall, there were relatively few foresworn that got up the ladder. At that point they were usually horribly wounded too, so all Reyner really had to do was shove them back off the walls, into the trench. With a glance out into the land beyond the fort, Reyner tried to get a good look at how many of them were there. Failing, he looked at the others. “How many do you think there are out there?”
No one would get a chance to answer however, as another forsworn ran up the ladder, Reyner, stepping out to stab the forsworn through the stomach. The foresworn however managed to drop his weapon and grab the pole. Suddenly yanked forward by the forsworn, Reyner lost is footing and lunged forward. The forsworn's stomach was indeed pierced, but due to momentum, and the man's grip on the pole, pulled Reyner, and the ladder back towards the ground. With wide eyes, Reyner found himself on the ladder as it fell to the ground. With a heavy thud, the foresworn landed first, with Reyner holding onto the ladder and his spear.In the space of about fifteen seconds, Reyner was below the wall, ducking any stray arrows, straddling a dead forsworn and looking a bit bewildered. "I uh... Well..." was about all Reyner could manage.
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