This is a fanfic I am writing on an assassin. I can't help but writing in rather large patches of text.
Here is the 1st part on chapter 1. Hope you like.


Chapter1: The hangover


He woke up with his head throbbing and a woozy feeling in his stomach, a silent witness to the night before. 'Ooohhh, I really should stop drinking that cheap rubbish.' The hung-over Altmer thought, while cradling his head in self-pity. A severe burst of pain rushed through his forehead and he wished he had paid more attention when they tried to teach him the fine arts of restoration. He barely knew how to heal minor wounds, let alone cure a serious hangover. Or even how to get rid of a bump that had mysteriously manifested itself on his head and he couldn't help but wonder where that had come from. His recollections on the previous days were still somewhat blurry.

'Now to open my eyes,' he murmered to himself. Reluctantly the Elf opened his eyes and immediately shut them again in agony of the bright light that greeted his new day through the bars of his small, square cell.
Although the light was a lot dimmer than he had anticipated it was still hurting his eyes and consequently, the throbbing in his head got worse. Quickly he shut them again. A grunt of agony left his throat. 'Where in oblivion am I?' he wondered while re-opening his eyes, slowly this time, and took a few glimpses through his squinted eyes. First things he became aware of now he finally could take a decent look around, was that mouldy, green bricks and a metal gate in one of the walls enclosed him. Definitely not the room he had rented in the Talos plaza hotel a couple of days before the events that, apparantly, got him thrown in jail.

'Not again?.. By the Nine, how am I getting myself out of here this time,' he sighed.
This damp, cold confinement seemed familiar from the last time. But, then again, he had noticed all jails tend to look the same throughout the empire. It was just another cell, just like all the others.

A raspy voice broke through the relative silence of the morning:'You are never getting out. You are going to die here, you snotty Altmer hahahaha!' Gently he sat up from the stone slab. A damned lousy excuse for a bed but what could he expect from a prison? A brief throb of pain though his head, this time in the area of his temples, rather than his forehead, rudely reminded him of his condition. He wished he had something decent to drink instead of something you wash your clothes in.

'Yeah, yeah, sure?' he whispered and made a face, while trying to rub his stiff, sore back. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't really reach the spots that hurt the most, which disgruntled him even more. Why couldn't he just lie down and die? Death appealed a lot more to him than this bloody hangover. Judging by the taste in his mouth something had already died in his mouth so he figured he might as well pass on too.

The banter from the opposite jail carried on some time but Hargeth just ignored it. If he hadn't been feeling so miserable, he would probably taken offence in it but he really didn't feel like acknowledging that pesky Dunmer how he felt about it. As there isn't really a point harassing someone who just ignores it, the Dark Elf soon grew weary of it. He did make a mental note though. A lot could be said about Hargeth but not that he is the most forgiving type and even less when he has been drinking. The last individual thinking that was now sleeping with the slaughterfish. The memory on that particular incident brought a shade of a smile on his face.

Returning to the present day from his wandering thoughts, he wondered if the guards had left anything to quench his terrible thirst. The convict turned his head, slowly; to make sure the throbbing in his head wouldn't return in the severity it hit him last time. In a corner there was a tan pitcher with some fluid in it that could be identified as, well, wet.
Calling it water would be an insult to real water. He was actually glad that it was a tan pitcher so couldn't really see the colour of what was in it. 'Hmmm, smells like rat piss,' he grumped while bringing the pitcher to his mouth to quench his thirst and to get rid of the awful taste in his mouth, briefly hesitating uncertain of what was in the pitcher but then decided he didn't really care. It could hardly be worse than his current state. He took a careful sip but even that upset his stomach and made him loose whatever he still had in it. 'It IS rat piss,' he thought and agrily tossed the pitcher in a corner shattering it in a lot of pieces. And if being in jail with a terrible hangover didn't suffice, sure enough, a shard bounced back and cut him in the face. 'Oh great!' Frustrated he wiped the welling blood from his cheek, again cursing the lack of attention he had paid to learning restoration. He made a second mental note to start with that, well, when he got out of jail that was.

Because of the racket he had made the Dunmer prisoner noticed Hargeth had hurt himself which was enough for him to start mocking his fellow in-mate in the opposite cell again. 'Keep that up and you will have the guards save out on a lot of fun!' and almost fell to the floor laughing. 'I hope you choke in it, Dreth!' A growl from the opposite cell was its reward. Hargeth couldn't care less and went back to feeling sorry for himself.

His thoughts wandered a while when he heard the distinct clang of armoured guards coming down the stairs to the cellblocks. Casually they strawled passed the front cells while taunting the prisoners in the cells there.
'How did you like your?. beverage?' the fat, balding guard asked him with a smug grin on his face while looking at the remains of the pitcher. 'I guess my suspicions weren't too far off, rat-piss, guard-piss, all the same.' The High Elf, Hargeth, behind bars, replied and immediately regretted making that comment. The barely hidden insult triggered the guard to come into his stinking cell and rewarding him with a couple of cruel kicks to the stomach, much to Dreth's amusemant. Shut up or you're next!' the guard barked towards the opposite cell. Valen Dreth was quick to shut up and withdrew into one of the darker corners of his cell. The Dark Elf had probably learned the hard way as well. His nose had a strange angle in it, indicating his nose had been broken too, probably by the same guard. Most guards he had encountered in previous stays in prison scattered over the empire were kind compared to this one. This particular guard knew exactly where to beat into prisoners where it hurt the most. It was likely he practised a lot in being efficient in crippling prisoners. What was a captain doing a simple guard's work anyway?

It seemed Hargeth more and more likely Avidius was just a sadistic bastard taking pleasure in abusing prisoners. Or did the Legion really didn't have anyone else for the job? Hargeth had hoped the distraction Dreth had created would have kept the guard from making it worse but, much to his dismay, the guard wasn't finished yet. The guard, who fancied a drink himself judging the man's breath, which still heavily reeked of ale from earlier, had spotted the remainders of Hargeth breakfast from the day before, or even the day before that. Hargeth couldn't for the world remember. The guard's face split in two by a very grim smile. 'Are ya foulin' up me cell? Ya know wot that means, don't ya?' the guard, obviously, rhetorically asked. Not that the guard would be able to spell rhetorical or even would know what it means but for Hargeth that made no difference what so ever. Of-course Hargeth knew, having spent his fair share in jails. He braced for the inevitable steel gauntlet in the face and the steel boot in the guts, kind of treatment. 'That's another similarity between a lot of jails,' Hargeth grimly thought.

Unfortunately for him, he was right. The guard grinned slyly and whipped his steel gauntlet in Hargeth's face. He could hear his nose breaking with a sickening snap just before he hit the ground like a ragdoll. In no time at all his entire face was covered in blood that came pouring out both his nostrils. Quickly he rolled himself up into a ball to protect him-self the best he could against the relentless kicking of the guard. Most of the blows landed in his back and stomach. Then the guard kicked him in the head with his steel boots, he fought to remain conscious but it was futile. His whole world went spinning and then went black. Just before he passed out he thought:'If I'm ever getting out of this rathole, you best watch your back because I will be coming for you?.'

When he re-gained consciousness, most of the light had faded and so had most of his hangover. His physical condition had hardly improved though. Instead of the throbbing headache it now was a constant whining in the back of his head. Apart from that, he had bruises everywhere. Even in places he didn't know he could bruise. Gently he touched his nose and cringed in pain almost to the point of bringing a tear into his right eye. 'Yep, that's broken for sure?' he couldn't help but chuckling to himself over his misfortune, immediately collapsing in terrible agony.

Apparantly, he had a broken rib as well. After recovering from the agony, he gently went to inspecting the rest of his injuries. Softly he touched his left cheek with the tips of his fingers. The tan shard had made a shallow gash, about one, maybe one and a half inch long. At least it had already stopped bleeding and there was a crust of dried blood covering it. He also realised the beating he got by the guard had caused Hargeth to have fallen exactly in the spot where he had lost his breakfast earlier. The smell of it in his shirt almost made him gag. The garment hadn't been too clean before the incident, now it was almost too dirty to touch, let alone wear it. To add to his misery, try as he might, it was virtually impossible for him to take the sackcloth shirt of with the broken rib. He couldn't raise his arms enough because of the pain so he would have to reside with it. He was really starting to dislike that particular guard.

'You alright?' A gentle, throaty voice, probably a Khajiit female, asked from the cell next to him, breaking him out his contemplations 'What do YOU care?' he snarled. The prisoner didn't respond again. 'Nice Hargeth, real nice, finally someone to talk to and you bite of his head. Just great.'

His temper hadn't improved at all. Piece by piece he had been puzzling back together some of the circumstances that had got him thrown in prison. From what he had recollected, things were looking bleak for him. It appeared to him unless some kind of miracle would happen he was going to be stuck here for a long time. The Imperial Legion didn't take kindly on murder. Especially when a guard is involved. Most of the details were still fleeing him but he remembered vaguely it was a contract gone sour. Had he been betrayed? He really didn't know. He didn't really care either. His profession had taught him not to look back unless you don't care what's ahead of you. That usually was the tip of a sword so he'd better care what's ahead.

The harsh words awoke the Dunmer in the opposite cell. Dreth had a strange smile around his lips. The grey haired, light blue skinned Elf obviously had enjoyed seeing Hargeth being beaten up. Hargeth couldn't really blame him; he would've probably done the same in his place. It had been a long time ago he had felt so utterly helpless. He made a promise to himself to never let that happen again. And then threatened the Dunmer to toss a fireball into his cell if he'd open his gob. Of-course Hargeth knew that wasn't really useful with Dunmer being heridatary fire resistant, but it at least would be good for a laugh.

'Maybe I'll do it anyway, just to annoy him.' The thought made him smile, which was quite rare. But then he realised that would probably lead to another beating by the guards.

'Bugger..?'

The days grew longer and shorter again. In the passing weeks and months he had decided now was a good time to catch up on his restoration skills, rather than waiting until he got out. He had to be careful not to let the guards catch him practicing his magic though, so he only practiced at night. A few days before he had been careless and the guards had caught him practicing. He had paid a bitter price for his carelessness. Another beating and, as a result, a dislodged shoulder. He thought that after the fractured rib other injuries could hardly be more painful. How wrong had he been. He had to use a wall to slam his dislodged arm back into his shoulder. The sheer pain of this had made him lose his consciousness.

This setback didn't put him off practicing though. It only made him more determined. The determination had started to get him somewhere. The restoration spell he never had managed to cast wasn't so hard for him anymore and he used it to ease some of the pain of his broken rib that still plagued him. Next, he applied it to his shoulder. He could feel the strange light tingling sensation of muscles contracting and regaining some strength. When he also tried it on his nose, it only made him sneeze, changing nothing.
He rested with the fact his nose would forever be in a strange angle.

The Oblivion thing seemed a little awkward using it twice, but that's just something that gets to me, not a really a problem with your writing.

Otherwise it was a nice introduction to give us all a feel for your cynical character, can't wait for it to be carried on.

Edit: changed my mind on the Oblivion thing.

I am straying slightly from the game. The rendez-vous with Uriel Septim in the dungeon doesn't seem appropriate with this character so I made up an alternative way of Hargeth getting out of prison. The mq is of no consequence to this character anyway.
Anyway, hope you enjoy the next part as much as I enjoyed writing it.


Remainder of chapter1, chapter2 and a part of chapter3:

More weeks passed, nothing much changed. Dreth had annoyed him some more and eventually Hargeth actually lobbed a fireball in his cell while the Dunmer prisoner was soundly asleep. The dry grass in the cell had caught fire in no time, clouding the cell in thick, black smoke.

Valen woke up because of the smoke penetrating his nostrils. 'What the..' Dreth didn't continue his tirade because of a sneeze and then got up from bed, while cursing Hargeth in several languages, to put out the fire. The Dunmer was jumping around in his cell to stamp it out, still swearing, much to the other prisoner's hilarity. Inevitably, it alarmed the guards and it got Hargeth in trouble once again.

He was almost getting used it to it, hadn't it been for the beating to his head. At least it made the day less dull. 'If they beat me enough, maybe they can straighten out my nose again,' he thought, while being punished by the guards. It appeared the guards hadn't much better to do but tormenting prisoners. That moment he promised himself he was getting out of this godforsaken prison alive and rather sooner than later.

Besides practicing his restoration skill he also started getting back in shape by doing physical exercise, as far as the small, square dank cell allowed, to get his strength back up. Months of basically doing nothing had weakened him. He wouldn't stand a chance against anyone outside in this condition.

Clang, clang, clang.. The jailors were doing their round again. The ruckus had awoken him from his sleep. Since a couple of weeks the guards started to stray from their usual schedule and started patrolling more random. Hargeth didn't like it one bit. Did the guards know about his secret plans?

Once again, the guards found a reason to torment the blonde Altmer. In his sleep, unknowingly, he had tumbled the bowl for his excrements over. The smelly guard, as Hargeth started to call him in his mind, was about to enter his cell to punish him for the hidious crime Hargeth had committed by kicking over the waste bowl when another guard shouted:'Captain Avidius, Hayn wants to talk to you!'

The smelly guard grumbled something barely audible but Hargeth could tell with his, for a Mer, keen sense of hearing Avidius had little respect for his collegue. 'Interesting,' he thought, and abscent-mindedly pulled his pointed ear. Of-course he didn't let the smelly guard show he had heard the comment Avidius had made about Hayn. Avidius gave Hargeth a final cruel kick in his back and left the cell. From the corner of his almond shaped eyes the Altmer prisoner spotted something else interesting. Avidius was carrying around a small bottle. 'That could be useful,' he thought. Hargeth had always been quick in spotting opportinities in the simplest of things. For instance, broken bottles make excellent weapons. He grinned slyly when he thought about how he had found that out. Spending a lot of time in shady inns did have its advantage after all.


Avidius slammed the gate shut with a loud bang to make sure all the prisoners were awake. Angrily the guard made his way back to the offices, grumbling and swearing at everything and about everyone. Hargeth noticed he was possibly even more drunk than usual. The ale smell on his breath alone was enough to notice he had been drinking heavily. A more amusing telltale was that Avidius could hardly walk in a straight line, bouncing into the grey stonewalls, when he made his way back to the guardroom. 'I really need to get out of this place.'

A cunning but dangerous plan was starting to form in his head.




Chapter2: Escape

Weeks went by as he thought about all the aspects of the escape plan he was brewing on. He had to lure a guard into his cell, somehow overpower him and use him as some sort of hostage. He knew that was going to be the most dangerous part of the plan. If that would go wrong, he wouldn't be beat up; the guards would kill him for sure.

He needed to pick a guard hostage he could, relatively, easily overpower and keep under his control. What he needed was Avidius, better yet; he needed Avidius as drunk as possible. It was his only option. How was he going to lure Avidius in? And when? The answer to the how question was fairly easy. After all, Hargeth was the smelly guard's favourite sparring partner. All he needed to do was provoke Avidius enough for him to come in to Hargeth's cell. He probably would have to improvise from there. There were just too many uncertainties to keep track of.

He decided to act as if he were ill when Avidius would be in the right state. Drunk that is. Really, really drunk.


Uneventful another few months went by before the ideal oppurtunity arose. The exercises he, secretly had been doing through the months of planning and awaiting his time, brought back most of his strength back, although the shoulder that had been dislodged months ago was still sensitive if he strained it too much. A lot of time would have to pass by before it would be fully healed, if ever. In his profession he never had much need for a shield so it didn't really bother him much, figuring he could always have an adaquate healer look at it when he got out.

When, not if, determined as he was to getting out of this deathtrap.

Clang.. clang? clangclang?clang. Hargeth recognized the irregular clang of Avidius doing his round drunk. Really, really drunk. 'Now's the time,' he thought. The clang stopped briefly as the smelly guard stopped before the cell next to him. The Khajiit, that had occupied it, had been long gone and a male Bosmer now occupied the cell.

'Misjerable treehugger, wake up!' Avidius bellowed to the Bosmer occupying the cell next to him. 'Insjpectjion time!' Avidius could barely talk straight. Hargeth heard the squeek of the gates opening and the, unmistakable, sound of the Bosmer prisoner in the cell next to him being beat up severely. 'Poor bugger. Better him than me though.' Hargeth thought.
'Ya Elves are all the sjame.' More insults by the Imperial guard and more sounds of the Bosmer being beat up. Hargeth could hear Avidius clanging out of the cell, the agonised grunts of the beaten Wood Elf and another squeek of the gate closing again. 'Here we go,' he thought and started with his act.

He laid down on the stone slab with his face to the wall while making loud, vile noises as if he were really sick to the stomach. Considering the food they got, it wasn't even very unlikely. He knew Avidius wouldn't be able to refuse such an easy target to "inspect" as Avidius called it. And, as sure as the sun goes up in the east, indeed Avidius wasn't going to let this oppurtinity pass by to torment a helpless prisoner. When Avidius caught sight of Hargeth lying still on his bed, a mean smile formed around his thin lips, exposing his rotten teeth, in anticipation. Hargeth could hear the iron key being inserted into the slot and turned with a squeek. Another squeek and the gate to his cell opened. Hargeth had heard correct. Avidius was drunk out of mind. 'Hmm, this might be easier than I could ever have hoped for,' Hargeth thought while he grunted as if in agony.

'Little bit closer,' Avidius was approaching Hargeth, briefly stopping his approach to pull something from underneath his cuirass.

A plop and a gulp. Hargeth could smell the ale in the bottle and on Avidius' breath. 'Wa's up wif ya?' Avidius growled and carelessly set the, now probably empty, bottle down next to Hargeth's bed.
'Ya sick? Answer me, sjcum!' he rumbled with a double tongue. Avidius grabbed Hargeth by his shoulder, sending a spur of pain through the Elf's upper body. His shoulder still hadn't healed entirely. Avidius yanked Hargeth from the stone slab and Hargeth hit the ground rather unsoft. 'Hnnn,' grunted Hargeth, keeping up his act. The pain in his shoulder made it a lot easier to act as if he were in pain. As a matter of fact, he didn't have to act at all. Avidius kicked Hargeth in his side but still Hargeth wouldn't stand up. Slowly, so he wouldn't lose his balance, Avidius leaned over Hargeth to see if maybe Hargeth was dead or unconscious.

'NOW!!' The thought almost exploded in his mind and he reacted faster to the oppurtunity than the guard could have ever anticipated from a prisoner who had been incarcerated for months. Hargeth snatched the bottle from the ground, slammed it in the ground, jumped up, violently grabbed Avidius from behind before the drunk could react and stuck the broken bottleneck very near Avidius' jugular in his throat.

'Now, if you want to stay alive, I suggest first you unbuckle your sword-sheath with your left hand,' Hargeth hissed in Avidius' right ear while keeping a strong hold of Avidius with his left arm around his neck, to the point of choking Avidius. The smell of ale coming from his breath was almost overwhelming. 'Slowly, unless you want me to cut you another airvent,' Hargeth hissed again. Obeying, slowly Avidius' left hand went to his belt and unbuckled it. The belt and sheath with the officer's silver longsword still in it, dropped to the ground quietly. 'Now, move!' Hargeth ordered Avidius while pushing him towards the metal gate.

'Open it!'
Avidius did as he was told and opened the metal gate. 'Now, you and I are going to leave this rathole and nobody is going to get hurt, geddit?' Hargeth could feel Avidius' body tremble in rage. He knew if he let his guard down for a brief moment he'd lose the grip he had on his hostage.
Slowly they made it up the stairs to the door, separating the guardroom from the actual dungeon. 'Open the door!' he growled in Avidius' ear. The hostage guard captain's body started to shake of the effect of the alcohol because of the adrenaline rushing through it. Avidius was starting to show some resistance. Hargeth simply responded by putting a bit more pressure on the broken bottleneck to Avidius throat and a small drop of blood started to surface where the broken bottleneck had pierced Avidius' skin. 'You'll pay for this!' Avidius hissed through his teeth. 'Yeahyeah, sure, but not today,' Hargeth replied calmly.

Avidius opened the door to the guardroom. Another guard was taking a nap and was snoring heavily in a chair with a copy of "The lusty Argonian maid" still in his lap and a bottle of cheap wine next to his chair. There was no one else in the room. Which was weird, usually the prison was crawling with guards. Hargeth was lucky for a change. 'Now, the next door,' he thought and started to push Avidius towards it. 'Open it!'

'It's not locked,' Avidius replied, his voice trembling in anger.
'I know' That was bluff, 'I said: open it, not unlock it, now, did I?'

Avidius grumbled something undistinctive and opened the door. The only thing standing between Hargeth and freedom was a corridor and the final door leading outside. The fresh air seeped through the cravesses of the old, wooden door. He hesitated briefly, trying to decide to get rid of Avidius here or wait until he was outside. Taking Avidius outside as a hostage was a sure way to get out of prison safe but what would he do with the guard outside? Kill him? Set him free to warn the other guards? He decided it would be rather suspicious taking a guard as a hostage outside so it would be better to leave him here. Unfortunately he had nothing to knock Avidius out. The sleeping guard in the guardroom had a blunt object but that meant he had to backtrack with the risk of waking up other guards as well.

Going back in wasn't an option. He had to think of something to slow Avidius down and improvised immediately. Before Avidius could react, he quickly stabbed the broken bottleneck in Avidius' side, let go of his grip on his hostage and dropped him on the cold, stone floor. 'Aaarggg!! You bastard!' Avidius yelled while falling down. 'Don't worry, you'll live,' Hargeth replied and made his way to the door. He knew very well where to stick a sharp object in someone to end his victim's life quick and painless.
Just like he also knew where to stick a sharp object in his victim to make sure he didn't die. They would just suffer and bleed a lot, much like Avidius now. It was likely the distraction would slow possible persueers down, at least for a little while, having to attend to their captain first. Surely, they wouldn't let him die like the stuck pig he is. He was getting close, he was almost out. The excitement of the events made him almost feel euphoric. On the end of the corridor an ironclad, sturdy looking door was separating him and the outside. After months of patience, starvation, misery and pain, his imprisonment was nearing the end.

'The moment of truth, stay calm,' he mumbled and quickly, but without rushing, made his way to the end of the corridor.

He opened the heavy, wooden door and stepped outside. It was getting dark and it was drizzling lightly. A wet fog, promising a clear sky for the day after, shrouded most of his features to the guards outside, causing enough confusion for them to fail to see which prisoner it was that was exiting the fortified prison. He walked off like nothing was out of the ordinary, like he was just another prisoner released by the jailors inside. He could hear a couple of alarming sounds from the corridor where he had just stabbed Avidius and decided he'd best disappear completely before the, unaware of the situation, soldiers outside figured out what was going on. He jumped on the ledge of the bridge and looked for a place he could land on, without breaking both his legs.

The prison compound was built on a high, hill-like, rock so instead of jumping down he decided to use the steep slope of the rock and slide down. Carefully he chose a spot without too much inclination and jumped of the ledge.
The early spring rain had made the slope slippery. Much faster than he liked he skidded down the hill, rapidly towards the open road in the valley.
With the velocity he was sliding down the hill he was pretty confident he would hurt himself on impact. To try to slow down his rapid descent he tried to grab hold of whatever came within his grasp but not to much avail. What little growth was on the rock had very short roots, barely anchored into the moist surface. Desperately he grabbed a protruding rock halfway down. With all his strength he could muster, he grabbed hold of the ledge and begged the gods it wouldn't snap of or break his fingers. He could hear the small ledge crack, it wouldn't hold for long but it had done its job, the speed was now out of his descent.

Now, much slower, he continued sliding down the hill, keeping his balance with his right hand, creating a small rockslide. Several small sharp pebbles made many tiny cuts in his hand and feet on the way down. The strain on his legs had left him exhausted and made him tremble on his feet, he almost collapsed with fatigue when he finally reached the bottom of the slope and safely stood on the soft, wet grass. Gasping for breath, he granted himself a minute's rest and thanked the Gods for the fog, covering the dustcloud his escape down the hill had swept up. He wasn't really religious but, in his opinion, it couldn't do much harm thanking them anyway. The sweat he had built up was drying on his skin, causing him to shiver in the cool night air. The salt in his sweat was burning in the countless small cuts he had in his hand. 'Where did these come from?' Looking up to where he just came down from, it appeared a lot more steep than going down, he saw countless small rocks rolling down, ending at his feet, covered with countless small wounds as well.

'Aah, that must be it.' The wounds in his feet barely hurt. The months barefoot in prison had hardened his footsoles; the cuts were barely an inconvenience. His hand did hurt; he stuck it in a small, muddy, puddle to wash away the transpiration and most of the dirt in the small, offending wounds. It wasn't ideal but would have to do until he found cleaner water to wash in and a healer willing to help.

Longing to wash all the dirt from his skin he started to run northbound. It didn't take him long to reach the banks of the lake surrounding the prison and the adjecant city. The fog was now so dense; he couldn't even see the other side. Swimming across would be too perilous as he wasn't much of a swimmer. 'Damn it, wish I had gills, just like those bloody lizards.' Cursing his Elven origin and wishing he could change into an Argonian, if only for a while, he took of his clothing and waded into the water knee-deep in only his loincloth. Gratefully, he washed the sweat and all the dirt from his pale skin underneath.

The water was cold but refreshing. Most of his exhaustion washed away with the grime from his battered body. With both hands he splashed water onto his face, took a couple of sips and rubbed the dust from his green eyes. He wasn't much to look at, rather short for a High Elf, a cruel mouth with thin lips and hard jaw lines. The scar and his broken nose didn't improve his features either. His eyes always had been the most attractive, or at least, that's what he was told but he had always doubted the sincerity of that.

For a moment he just stood there, surprised gazing at the, again dirty palm of his hands to see how much dirt and dust actually came from his face and out of his long yellow blond hair. 'Whaddayaknow,' he uttered, walked a bit farther and submerged to wash all the remaining dirt out of his hair. Deciding he was clean enough for now, he treaded back onto shore. He shook the most of the water out of his hair but didn't really have something to dry him further, except for the dirty prisonclothing. 'No way I'm wearing that again,' and hurled a weak fireball towards the pile of clothing he left on the bank, incinerating it to dust instantly, even though it was moist with fog and sweat.

Noticing the water on his hands and arms had been dried up because of the heat emitting from his spell he just cast, he improvised. He cast a slightly stronger fireball but instead of throwing it, he held it just above the stretched palm of his hand, focused his will on the ball and increased the size of it until it effectively had dried off most of the water. To him, a few scorched hairs was worth being dry and warm again. He couldn't see the smoke and vapour coming from his hair, if he had, he'd probably have been a bit more worried.

After some consideration, Hargeth decided he'd best get some space between him and the Imperial City isle although he preferred to find silent, dark corner and sleep for a few hours. 'I guess, it's true, there really is no rest for the wicked,' he sighed as he made his mind up on what to do. Even though he didn't fancy crossing the lake in the dark he cast a minor water walking spell and treaded slowly onto the water. He wasn't very confident in his spells yet but risked it anyway, having no choice. Swimming across was out of the question. Lake Rumare, surrounding the Capital of Cyrodiil, was renowned for being infested with Slaughterfish. Rumours went the local Rumare Slaughterfish were even more ferocious than the smaller, regular Slaughterfish. Without weapons, he'd be fishfood in no time. The first few of his steps onto the water did sink a few inches underneath the calm waves. He imagined fish nibbling his toes and shuddered. Scared he'd sink even farther he concentrated harder on the spell and he was truly walking across the surface of the deep, dark water. Only minutes later it occurred to him his first few steps wouldn't have sank much further. After all, the water was only ten centimeters deep there.


Chapter3: Pilatus and Rhialla

The long walk granted him plenty of time to consider his options. First he needed some decent clothing and weapons, but most of all, he needed food. Since he was broke he couldn't buy any. He considered stealing what he needed but that meant he would have to go into town but as he had just escaped from prison and had stabbed a guard, every guard in the province would probably now be looking for him. He'd better stay low for a while. While overthinking these things he gently touched the scar on his right cheek. "Bad idea," he thought and continued walking, for how long he wasn't sure, northbound while keeping a keen eye out for anything edible, entirely losing track of time and direction.

'Your money or your life!' A Khajiit bandit blocked his way, iron mace drawn.
'Boy, did you pick the wrong customer, fetcher. This surely isn't your lucky day.' The bandit grinned. 'That's a no, I presume?' Hargeth simply nodded and prepared for the attack. 'I hope the exercise in prison pays of,' he thought while readying himself for the oncoming battle. He knew from experience never to underestimate a well-trained fist fighter. Because they weren't encumbered by a heavy weapon, they could move fast, dodge attacks and accurately place punches so he didn't consider himself defenseless at all, against, what would seem impossible odds for most.

The Khajiit let out a mighty roar and launched in. It was obvious the bandit didn't share his experience with fist fighters. The Khajiit rushed his attack in the false assumption his victim is unarmed and thus completely helpless and came in swinging his heavy mace. Not being bothered by armour, Hargeth easily dodged all the wild and unfocused swings of the mace. The deadly dance carried on for about ten to fifteen minutes and the Khajiit was showing signs of fatigue. Hargeth moved in for a well-placed punch but unfortunately, the Khajiit had changed strategy.

The signs of fatigue had been an act! Far quicker than Hargeth had thought possible, the Khajiit raised his mace and swung it in a downward movement. Had Hargeth been ever so slightly less cautious, the mace would have crushed his skull. In stead, the maceblow came down on his left-foot, sending waves of pain through his entire, already quite mangled, body. He howled in pain. 'You, you?. You idiot!' he yelled at the bandit. 'You hit my bloody foot!'

The Khajiit bandit obviously had a strange sense of humour, he was grinning from ear to ear but was looking bashful at the same time as well. Hargeth looked at his foot and saw it was already turning purple because of the injury. 'If it's broken I'm making a rug out of you,' he threatened the bandit who had lowered his weapon. It was hard to attack while laughing at someone who was limping around holding his foot and looking, quite frankly, rather silly.

By now, the Khajiit couldn't hold his laughter any more. Initially it made Hargeth frown but then saw the funny side of it as well and soon he joined the Khajiit in laughter. 'You don't happen to have a healing potion stashed there somewhere maybe?' he asked the Khajiit. It seemed a bit bold to ask your assailant for help but instinctively he knew the fight was over. 'You really don't have anything, do you?' the bandit asked him and continued: 'You know, everybody says that when robbed. You are the first who is actually telling the truth.' Hargeth couldn't help but smirking at that remark. 'I kinda just broke out of jail, so yeah, all I am carrying is the hair on my back and the sweat on my brow.' Now it was Hargeth's turn to look bashful. 'I didn't make time to go?' he paused briefly 'shopping,' adding on a tone the bandit surely would understand. The Khajiit bandit did indeed. Again his face was split in two by a smug grin. 'I can tell,' he said, looking the barely dressed Hargeth up and down and grinned again.
'Come, I don't have a healing potion on me but my companion in our camp knows some restoration. I'll warn you though, she's a bit? crude? in her methods.'

Author's note: I made a few small changes towards the end of chapter3, nothing too serious though

Chapter 3 continued:

The camp is just over the rise east of us, the bandit pointed vaguely east.
'Hope it's not too far. The pain in my foot is excrutiating.'
'I believe you,' the Khajiit mumbled while grinning impishly. 'Can't you do something about it yourself?' the Khajiit asked.

'Nah,' answered Hargeth, 'my foot would probably end up standing the wrong way forwards with my restoration skill.' The Khajiit broke out in laughter. 'You are a funny man!' Hargeth's statement actually wasn't too far from the truth, although he might have exxegarated slightly. He had improved in jail but his skill in restoration was still pitiful to say the least. He'd need someone to show him the finer intracacies of the arcane arts. Especially restoration.
He was fairly adequate in destruction and alteration but he had neglected the other arts most of his life. He was taught never to regret choices he made but he couldn't help regretting it now. Or was it the thumping in his left foot what made it painfully apparent? He thought it was probably the latter.

After a couple of hours of walking, more like slumping for Hargeth, the bruising in his foot had increasingly gotten worse, rendering it practically useless, they reached the bandit's camp by nightfall. The bandit's companion, a Khajiit as well, jumped up when a stranger approached, she immediately drew her bow and notched an arrow.

It was only because of Pilatus, in the hours they needed to make it to the camp, he had found out the bandit's name, who shouted: 'Hold your arrow, it's me. I brought a? guest,' in the nick of time. A split second later and Hargeth could have added another scar to his, already quite substantial, collection. Or worse. He shuddered briefly and sighed in relieve when she lowered her bow, although, she still didn't quite trust it. Who could blame her?

By that time, he was pretty sure his foot was indeed broken. Considering a heavy, blunt object had landed on his foot, it wasn't much of a surprise the Khajiit female confirmed his suspicion. In fact, it was what she called a "complicated fracture" whatever that was supposed to mean. All he knew it hurt. It hurt a lot.
He had a sneaky suspicion the Khajiit's restoration skill was a lot better than Pilatus had let show through. 'Crude methods?. Pfff,' he scowled.
He had known certain ladies with an entire different occupation who were a lot more?.. crude.

The thought made him chuckle. Anyway, the pain in his foot was already diminishing after the care. She even handed him a shirt and a pair of trousers after the treatment. The clothes had been in better shape a long time ago. The knees were almost worn through, even though it had been patched several times. He had seen and worn far worse.

At least he wouldn't have to walk around practically naked anymore. The Khajiit healer did warn him he wouldn't be running anywhere soon and he still needed a lot rest to fully heal his foot. There was only so much she could do with such a complicated fracture. The bones needed to set themselves straight so it could heal properly. Rest sounded fine with him. If only he had something to eat.
'How's the foot doing?' Pilatus asked. The question brought him back from his memories. 'Hmm?? Oohh eeuhmm.. The foot's fine, it's my stomach that concerns me more actually,' Hargeth said with a crooked grin.

'I figured as much, how about some stew? Just don't ask what's in it hahahaha!' Hargeth frowned at Pilatus for a brief moment and then joined in on the laughter until both their bellies ached. Hargeth was still gasping for breath when he said:'Do you really think I care? I've been imprisoned for months.'
'No,' Pilatus replied, 'I guess not.'

Pilatus sat himself next to Hargeth at the campfire with a warm bowl of stew. His stomach reacted to the smell of the food making him aware he hadn't eaten in quite some time.
'Fancy a drink?'
'Thought you'd never ask,' Hargeth replied and gratefully took the held-out bottle of cheap wine from Pilatus' hand. 'And then to imagine I swore I'd never drink that cheap rubbish again? Ah well,' he said and took a large gulp from the bottle. 'Y'know Pilatus, it never tasted as good as it does now.'
'That's prison for ya.' Pilatus replied.

'You've seen the inside as well then?'
'What do you think?' Pilatus reposed with a sly grin. Hargeth just nodded. For a while they just sat, drinking and staring into the flames until the bottle was empty. They emptied some more bottles and retreated to their bedroll rather unsteady. The alcohol had done its job.

The morning after, it was raining and rather cold. Hargeth awoke just before dawn and a lot more fresh than he thought he would. He shivered in the cold morning air, a reminder he was still wasn't wearing much, his eyelids still half closed with sleep. He feared he'd wake up hung over but the fresh air must have done him good. No sign of a hangover. Gently he rubbed his eyes to get the sleep from them, without much success. He directed his face upwards to let the rain wash the sleep from his eyes instead. The campfire in the centre of the camp had died out long ago. Empty winebottles still lying on the place where they had left them the night before. They had drunk more than he had thought.

He gathered what little firewood was still left and cast a fireball to make it into a fire. The wood was wet so he sustained his spell a bit longer to dry the wood. Finally it caught fire after some hesitation. The fire wasn't much to look at, but it would have to do until more wood could be gathered. His foot was playing up so he decided he'd best take Rhialla's advice and rest it, rather than limping out and gather some wood himself. He wouldn't know where to look for it anyway. He knew exactly diddly about the outdoor life. He sat himself down at for what would have to pass for a campfire and grabbed something to eat. There wasn't much left, he had to do with a carrot and an apple.

He watched the sun come up and thought about his course of action for the next few days. He knew he couldn't leave yet; his foot hadn't healed enough yet. But with Rhialla's care he was sure he'd be up and running again in no time. He sighed, 'A few days Hargeth, a few days of rest, that's not so bad.'

'Overthinking your sins?' Rhialla had awakened as well.
'Not really, just thinking,' he replied. She sent him a knowing or understanding smile. It was hard to tell with the Khajiit race. 'When are you leaving then?' she asked.
'Dunno,' he replied and shrugged. 'I can still barely walk so you're stuck with me a few more days.' Rhialla nodded but said nothing.

After sitting there for about an hour or so he could hear the sounds of Pilatus waking up as well. The Khajiit leisurely stretched himself and yawned, like only Khajiit know how.

'Morning.'
'Goodmorning to you too.'
'What's for breakfast?' Pilatus asked Rhialla. 'Whatever you can catch.,' she replied dryly.
'Right.' Pilatus made a face and went about getting something for breakfast. He grabbed his bow and arrows, a piece of an old bread loaf, soaked with water that was lying on the table. With a disappointed face he threw the soggy loaf away. 'Bah!' Then grabbed his trusty iron mace just in case he ran in something more stuggly than a rat.

Longingly Hargeth watched him taking of and disappearing into the thicket. He wished he could join him but knew he would just be a burden. Cities and sewers were more his territory and the woods were Pilatus' territory.

Another chapter, and again, rather large slabs of text. Hope it's entertaining enough for readers to keep it interesting.


Chapter4: The Hunt

The moment Pilatus vanished into the thicket of the Heartlands forest, his entire being became the predator his appearance less contradicted to than the seemingly civilised humanoid.

Unheard, unseen the hunter prowled the woods for game, hoping his stomach wouldn't betray him by rumbling in the least convenient moment thinkable. He stopped for a while to stick his highly sensitive nose high in the air to take a good smell of his surroundings. Small groundcrawlers scurrying back to their burrows. Drops from the trees crashing down on the green pastures of the hills and leaflets blowing in the wind reached his senses. The cat in him couldn't imagine anyone would want to live in the foul smelling, stone cities with the sewege odour always linguiring. The primordial being inside loved the outdoors and cherished every second of it.

The scents, the sounds, it made him feel alive. A short gash of wind carried the scent of a deer just northwest of him. The wind was coming from the north so there was little chance the deer would notice his presence as well.
Slowly, not to alarm his prey, he snuck towards the whereabouts of the deer on all fours and, slowly, drew his bow. He didn't notch an arrow yet so he still had at least his left arm free. After a tense few minutes, he caught sight of the deer, grazing happily, totally oblivious to its gruesome fate about to catch up on it. A couple more deer were dancing around in the vicinity. For a moment he feared the other deer would warn the one he had chosen but Lady Luck was with him. Since it was mating season the deer were emitting a heavy aroma of feromones masking the scent of the feline predator.

He could hear bucks clashing their antlers in combat over a mate in the vicinity. Making no sound except his heartbeat and slow breath, he closed in on his prey, still without alarming the rest of the herd. He sat himself down on his left knee after having checked for small twigs that could give his position away by cracking. Satisfied nothing was going to alarm the deer, he stuck one arrow into the ground and notched another arrow. He laid aim and awaited his moment. If he'd miss, the deer would flee. He wouldn't miss. Patiently he waited for his prey to come from its current cover.

A large tree was in the trajectory of his arrow and the deer's neck. He was patient, a decent oppurtinity would arise, his experience in hunting had taught him to be patient and await just the right time to take the shot.
It took the deer far longer than he had hoped. After about half an hour his left leg was starting to go numb to the point it was really starting to break his concentration. Luckily, his patience wasn't to be tested much longer.

Finally, the deer had decided to graze a few meters up the hill, just what Pilatus was hoping for. Once more he laid aim carefully and let the arrow fly. Suddenly, a horse cry broke through the quiet morning, scaring the deer of but it was already too late for the deer he had chosen as his target. Although, the arrow didn't hit it in its neck, it embedded itself deep into its torso, just beneath the spine. The deer tried to escape but its legs and strength failed and after a few seconds it ended its deathstruggle and slowly, almost like in slowmotion, it dropped to its knees, then to its side and died.

Directly after the cry, a muffled curse 'Damned horse.' An Imperial voice. 'Guards?' He knew he had heard the guards long before the guards could even be aware of his presence but in his opinion, something was wrong. The Imperial Legion never strayed this far from the road. They were here with a good reason. Quickly but silently he made his way to his prey, lifted it on his broad shoulder, leaving a bloody trail on his bare chest, staining his fur and made his way back to the hidden camp.

About two hours later he arrived. The sun had just crept over the ridge hiding the camp, shrouding the camp in the shadow of the Jerall Mountains. The only thing giving the location away was the smoke coming from the small fire. He dropped the deer from his shoulder, letting out a relieved sigh and extinguished the fire. Hargeth and Rhialla gave him a questioning look. 'What did you do th...' Hargeth started but Pilatus quickly intervened 'Shhh. We're in trouble, there's a couple of guards nearby and I'm pretty sure they're not here to have a pick-nick.' He turned his head towards Hargeth. 'What did you do to Avidius to upset the legion to come after you all the way here?' he asked, almost whispering.

That remark puzzled Hargeth. 'Did to Avidius? How does he know about my running in with Avidius?' He decided to suspend his thoughts on that to another time. He had more pressing matters at hand. Like escaping the Legion.
'Never mind, tell me later, we have to get out of here before they spot the camp. And they will, make no mistake about it. Gather our gear and bury the remainder of the campfire,' he told Rhialla and then turned to Hargeth. 'Come with me, I need your help with gutting the deer I shot, we need the provisions unless you feel like starving.'
Hargeth gave Pilatus a shocked look. 'I don't know how to do that.' Pilatus gave Hargeth a toothed grin. 'You'll learn soon enough.'

Pilatus grabbed a rope and quickly bound it around the deer's back-legs and threw the other end over an overhanging branch. 'Pull it up while I grab a knife,' he told Hargeth. He did as he was told and pulled the deer up. He flinched a bit when his shoulder played up a bit but bit the pain and tied the rope down.

Pilatus returned when he was just finishing up tying down the rope. Without a word, the Khajiit stabbed his knife in between the front legs of the deer and in a single fluent motion he pulled it up, disembowling the deer. A bloody mess dropped in front of Pilatus feet. With a few more well placed slices the remainders of its entrails were removed as well.
'Okay, you can cut it down now,' he told a rather pale looking Hargeth. He had no trouble slicing up people but the sight of the disembowling of the deer had upset him. Pilatus grinned smugly when he saw Hargeth's face and could hardly refrain himself from laughing at the Elf.

The Khajiit then went to cutting up the deer in easier to handle pieces of meat, undid the deer of it's hide and threw the remainder of the deer, the head and its lower legs, into the surrounding woods. 'The wolves will take care of that.'

They had just finished packing their gear and food when Pilatus' ears turned frantically. 'They're closing in, let's go. Hope your foot isn't bothering you too much because we have to move rather fast.' Hargeth gave his left foot a tender inspection. 'It'll be allright.' He wasn't really sure but he figured it better. Rhialla gave his foot a quick magical treatment and headed of south. The moved as fast as they could but Hargeth inability to run for longer periods slowed them down. And they knew it. The Elf might not hear it but Rhialla and Pilatus, with their far superior hearing, could hear their persueers gaining on them rapidly.

It struck Hargeth they were far further east then he had thought. His sense of directions never had been that good but he really thought the camp had been nearby Bruma while in fact it was situated far further east, nearby Cheydinhal. Had he really walked that far before he encountered Pilatus? His mind started to wander of in the tediousness of their trek towards, well, he realised he didn't know. Pilatus only mentioned south. And how in Oblivion did Pilatus and Rhialla know about his Avidius trouble? Suddenly the gears of the events of the last couple of months snapped in place, just like with a lock.

'The Khajiit woman in the prison cell next to me!' He couldn't believe he had missed that. It was so damned obvious. 'Was my encounter with Pilatus even coincidence?' He was starting to doubt it but that could be paranoia talking rather than his common sense. He made a promise to himself to ask Pilatus and Rhialla when the time was ripe. But for now he concentrated on trying to keep up with the two felines ahead of him.

Hours passed by as they fled. The afternoon slipped into evening barely notacible. A wet fog was conceiling most of their surroundings. It was like they were the only three people in the entire province.

His foot was starting to hurt again. The pain was surging through his body to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He was even cursing his own heartbeat as if that were the source of his pain. He knew he couldn't keep up this pace much longer. He needed rest. And soon.

As if Pilatus had read his mind, his two companions suddenly stopped and gazed east.
'I know a small cavern just east of our current location. It should be safe for a few days,' Rhialla said. Hargeth couldn't have been happier. 'How far is it?' Pilatus asked her.
'Two, maybe three hours with the speed we we're travelling.' Pilatus didn't seem too enthusiastic.
'Is there a second exit to the cavern?' Rhialla shook her head. 'So it's a dead end if we are discovered?' Rhialla didn't bother replying, it was evident.

Pilatus sighed in concern. He directed his hearing to the direction they had came from to listen whether their persueers had gained on them. 'I think our persuers made camp. I can't hear them anymore.'
'You don't suppose they gave up, do you?' Hargeth asked although he knew the answer very well. It wasn't very likely for the Legion to give up after having chased them for the largest part of a day. 'I guess not,' Hargeth murmured looking down to his dirty, mud covered feet.

'We should keep moving,' Rhialla commented. Pilatus nodded and picked up their gear he had set down for a minute.
'Let's go.' Without further adue they headed east, towards the cavern Rhialla mentioned. For necessary shelter, nourishment and well earned rest. The Nine knew they were going to need it if they wanted to escape their persuers.

Chapter5: Dead or Alive

The shroud of night and the dense, wet, fog hid their proceeding but didn't hide their footprints. Pilatus was highly unnerved by the fact they could still be easily tracked down. They needed to know what they were up against before retreating to a cavern they couldn't escape from. What if they were highly outnumbered? What if their persuers noticed the three of them stopped heading south and had changed direction eastbound again? No doubt about it they would find the cave as well. An hour passed, they were almost halfway to the cave when Pilatus suddenly stopped. Hargeth didn't notice until he almost stumbled into Pilatus' back.

'We're not going to loose them, are we?' Hargeth asked, using the brief moment of rest to check his foot. The swelling had been slowly retreating but he was still in pain. The bones hadn't quite settled yet and walking a day didn't do it much good. His foot was now mostly yellow and green. Quite amusing, if it hadn't hurt that bad. Well, at least it kept his mind of the fact they hadn't had a decent meal the entire day.
Pilatus shook his head, confirming what Hargeth had feared. They had to do something. Running away wasn't going to do them much good. Not in the long run.

'I'm going to see how many we're up against, we can't remain uncertain, I don't think there will be more than three though.' Hargeth agreed, it had struck him the prison was practically deserted when he escaped. Where had all the guards been? The heat of the moment of his escape had kept him from noticing but he had plenty of time thinking it all over and all things considered, his escape went too smooth, almost too easy. Suspicion about the last few of days events started to pound into his paranoia like a blacksmith's hammer on an anvil. More questions he wanted to ask the Khajiiti.

'I'm coming with you, do you have a spare bow I can borrow?' The iron mace that Pilatus wasn't taking with him, didn't appeal to him.
'You can use Rhialla's bow.'
Rhialla took the bow from her belongings and handed it over to Hargeth along with a quiver, containing only nine iron arrows. It was all they could spare. Hargeth gave the bow a quick inspection and balanced it. The bow was a well-maintained piece of weaponry. The string appeared as though it had been just replaced. Besides lending him the bow, Rhialla also gave both the men a hunting knife.

'That could come in handy,' Hargeth commented. 'Thanks.' The hunting-knife got a place in the leather boots Pilatus had borrowed him. Shoving his aching left foot into the narrow boot had been absolute torture; with a grunt he endured it. Pilatus also gave him a dark robe. An unpleasant smell linguired in it, like someone had died in it. Pulling it over his head, a distinct hole in the front and the back told the truth about its previous wearer sudden, sticky end. A guiltful smile curled Pilatus' lips. Yep, someone had died in it. The quiver of arrows was strapped to his back to prevent the arrows moving around and making unwanted noises.

'You're not bringing a bow?' Pilatus shook his head in denial. 'Suit yourself,' Hargeth mumbled.

Silent, like ghosts, the duo made their way through the woods. The light of the moons reflected in the dense fog, bathing the forest in an eery glow. The feline bandit completely blended in with the shadows cast over them by trees. It was like the Khajiit became an entirely different person. Like he belonged there.

Hours passed without a single spoken word. They both knew how to handle themselves in the dark, hidden, elusive like phantoms. Silence was essential for their mission to succeed.
Suddenly, Pilatus stopped and dropped onto the damp forest ground and beckoned for Hargeth to do the same. Without questioning it, Hargeth dropped to the ground and crawled towards Pilatus' position.

'We're in luck, looks like there's only two of them, let's take them out,' Pilatus whispered. The camp was only fifty passes away, the guards were sitting at a very small campfire. Unlike most of the Imperial Legion, the two guards appeared very disciplined. The silence between the two was enough to alarm Pilatus and Hargeth; these guys knew what they were doing.
Very slowly Pilatus and Hargeth further closed the gap between them and the camp. Pilatus' ears were turning all directions, scanning for any sounds giving away the location of a possible third guard on patrol. Either there wasn't a third guard or he was as efficient in moving unheard as Pilatus was. As far as Pilatus was concerned, there wasn't a third. To make sure, they observed the camp another hour or two.

Growing weary of waiting Hargeth was getting restless and decided to take action, he wanted to reach for the bow on his back but Pilatus' strong arm held him back. 'Patience.' Hargeth wondered what they were waiting for. For more guards to arrive?

Pilatus held out two fingers to Hargeth and placed his index finger over his lips. 'Stay here, keep your eyes and ears open wide. Await my signal,' he whispered, almost as quiet as a breath. Moving even more silent than before, the cat-like creature circled the camp in a wide circle to remain hidden in the relative darkness of near-dawn. Hargeth took the bow from his back, notched an arrow and took aim at one of the guards, while keeping a close eye on Pilatus.
If he hadn't known the bandit's exact location, he would've never guessed and couldn't help but admiring the way Pilatus moved.

'There is more to him than he's telling. I have never seen anyone move like that. Huh, what? Wait for my signal? What did he mean? I guess I'll find out soon enough,' and then reprimanded himself. 'Focus, Hargeth, focus.' Shaking it off, he returned his full attention on the camp and on the two occupants. Still no sign of a third. All was clear. Then he noticed a dark figure crawling into the camp closing in on the guards, who still didn't had a clue the hunters had become the hunted.

A silvery flash, the signal, Pilatus had drawn a vicious looking knife and was now only three passes away from the back of the nearest guard. Hargeth aimed at the guard farthest away from Pilatus and readied himself to take the shot, still paying close attention to his associate's movements. Pilatus was, slowly, unhearable to human ears, getting to his feet and strained his powerful leg muscles to jump the last remaining distance to his target and nodded. Hargeth understood, quickly checking all the variables affecting the arrow's trajectory. Satisfied with all the variables, he let go of the arrow.
Pilatus jumped his target with a powerful leap, ramming the knife just behind his victim's chin, avoiding the helmet the guard was wearing, and up, into the brain, ending his life instantly. Startled, the second guard turned round while reaching for the sword on his side, the arrow struck him in the stomach instead of in his back where Hargeth had aimed for, piercing the cuirass right between the joints of the armour. It was luck the arrow even hit its target. It could just as easily have bounced of the steel of the Imperial Legion armour. Blood foamed up in the corners of his mouth and seeped through the joints of the armour. His demise was certain.

Hargeth knew a blade or arrow in the belly usually meant death, unless immediately attended to by a very capable healer. Slowly, all the blood would flow from the stomach into all essential organs, rendering them useless. All the bodily functions would slow down and ultimately stop altogether. Except for deadly it was also extremely painful. Hargeth had once stabbed a contract in the stomach. Alledgedly, it took two days for him to succumb to the bloodloss. Groaning in pain the Imperial guard reached for his sword but Pilatus was quicker to react. His knife was already hurling towards the guard and, with an awful sound, the knife lodged itself in the guard's throat. His life's blood sprayed everywhere when cold steel violently pierced the skin, veins and the guards' windpipe.
The guard plummeted to the ground, dead before he hit the bloodstained grass.

All in all, the mission had become a lot more grizzly than both men had anticipated. Now the job was done, Hargeth could finally stretch his muscles and limbs after the tense last few hours. Cramp was tormenting him, he stamped his right foot into the ground a couple of times to help his bloodstream flowing back to the numb parts of his body.

The good side of the bloody job just finished was that they had some decent weapons now. The guards were carrying silver longswords and heavy Legion armour. When they scouted the surroundings they also found the horses their, now dead, persuers had brought, cleverly hidden.

The horses rolled their, spread wide-open, eyes and whinnied in distress. The heavy, metallic smell of blood was upsetting them. The horses tried to escape and yanked their reigns frantically.

Hargeth pulled some grass out of the ground and held it in front of one of the horse's nose. That seemed to calm the, scared out his wits, horse down enough for Pilatus and Hargeth to see what they were carrying. After having searched the first horse's saddlebag, Hargeth pulled the same trick with the grass on the second horse as well. The contents of the saddlebags were most welcome. Food, several vials with unknown contents with a strange, strong smell, a couple of spare bedrolls, twelve goldcoins, some clothing and a handbill. Not much to their surprise, it was a wanted poster for Hargeth, signed by Captain Avidius himself.
Dead or Alive. Hargeth sent Pilatus a toothed grin, 'At least we know who sent them.'

They gathered the weapons, armour and the items they took from the saddlebags, devided it evenly over the two saddlebags and mounted the horses.

To anyone who is reading this fanfic, the next chapter will take some time. I am currently rewriting and editing large pieces the first chapters because there are still a lot of parts I am not happy with. The story isn't going to change, nor are the characters. I am going to change how I wrote it, rather than what I wrote.
Funny how it is, once you start writing, you start to notice your english isn't as good as you'd like to think it is. It is in my case. Lots of spelling errors and grammatical mistakes that need to be filtered out.
I can promise you, it will increasingly get better. Both grammar and story.
As a side-note, sorry to you hardcoe fans who think I am straying (too far) from the game and lore. I am trying to write a story that is also appealing to non-TES fans.

Thanks for reading.

Why appeal to another fan base in an Elder Scrolls Fiction forum?

I am not just posting it on the elder scrolls forum. It started like that but after chapter1 it sort got out of hand. The plot I am thinking of might be novel-worthy. At least, that's what I've been told. Obviously I'd need to have to get it read and edited by someone a lot better in English than I am.

Ok, I've only read chapter 1 so far, but I've listed up some critique/pointed out errors. I actually stopped pointing out spelling errors half way through, there are a lot of them. From your most recent post I'm guessing that English might not be your first language? If you use Firefox, you might want to consider downloading the dictionary plug-in https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/browse/type:3 as this is a very quick and easy way to go through and edit them out. The whole thing wasn't hard to read at all, but it just gives a more professional feel.

Anyway, all that aside, so far I really love the characterisation. I get a real feel for his personality, his character. I can see him in pain in the cell, it's very good and I enjoyed reading it. I shall look forward to reading the next chapters (and there is a nice backlog to get my teeth in to )

One final point, I noticed in your most recent post that it is "novel worthy", but it'll still be a fanfiction. You probably already know this, but unless you cut out everything to do with TES it could never be an actual novel. Copyright's a [censored]

Writing a fanfiction, where all the places, people and etc are made up for you, isn't that hard to write. Figure up your own world, write about it, and then try to call it novel-worthy. And besides, almost anyone can have their novel published. That doesn't mean jack-diddly-squat nowadays.

Are you published, redsrock?

Why no, no I am not.

EDIT: Also, I realize my tone in my previous post may have sounded harsh. I wasn't speaking to the OP directly, and rather I was just making a general statement. Sorry, OP, if you were offended by it. I really wasn't talking towards anyone in particular...

Thanks for all the comments! I appreciate it. It's my 1st attempt in writing something really substantial.

Don't get me wrong, it was just something friends of mine said. I have no intention publishing it But it would be nice if someone can read it without having to know all the details from the game, that's why the next chapters you might read details WE al know but someone not knowing the game doesn't.
I fully agree on the spelling errors, but, as you correctly assumed, I am not English/American. I was too eager having it read by someone and overlooked them. I am taking more care to remove spelling errors and grammar mistakes in the next chapters. I need a proper dictionary to correct everything, that's going to take some time.


@Esmerelde: wow, that many? Glad you like the characters though. :tops:

@redsrock: I am not offended in any way. It's the internet, I am fully aware sometimes comments are interpreted the wrong way or meant differently.

Well, I'll start with the good news. I liked the scene with the Khajiit bandit. The character of Hargeth comes through a lot more, building on what you started in the first half of chapter 1. It could probably do with a bit of refinement, but I enjoyed reading it.

However, I didn't really like chapter 2 (and the end of chapter 1, didn't see it down there originally), as it felt very, very rushed. Also, there was little characterisation going on, so it was just a filler really. Add some more in depth description in there, peraps emphasis the time he is in prison longer. It seemed like a very short time, though I know it wasn't because you refer to "another month" going by. Linked with that is the fact that he runs away from the prison, jumping down onto the road. He had an injured shoulder and a barely healed broken rib!! It would be more realistic if once he escapes he waits for the cover of darkness to make his escape. The scene with the bandit would be work just as well at night (or you could make it dusk or dawn etc if he has been walking for a while).

Finally: Spelling is pretty atrocious, particularly the first/second paragraphs of chapter 2. When you're doing your rewriting see if you can fix that up! ^_^

I'll keep that in mind when re-writing it. Thanks for the tips. :tops:
It's really a steep learning curve. I was afraid chapter1 was too slow so I increased the pace in chapter2 to give it more of an edge, hope that makes sense. Again, I'll look into it and change where it needs to.

Straying from the game and lore is not something you need to apologize for. Why would I want to read a story of which I already know every detail? The fact that most fan fics here begin with either a prisoner escaping an IC jail or a prisoner coming off board to Vvardenfell is quite frankly becoming over-made. So don't be afraid to come up with something new. It's what fan fiction is about.

If you really want to know how to write, though, you will have to come up with your own world. So it all depends on what do you want to do with yourself.

Right on, daddio.

I wish i could write realy long fan fics but i'm not that good at those type of things

Long storiers are a lot of work. I mean A LOT of work. If you enjoy writing it, the effort is returned to you tenfold. It's worth it to me. I am practically unable to write short stories.

@Peleus: that's something I want to tryt next.

Spent a week changing, editing and removing typo's/spelling errors. I think I got most of them.
Chapter 2 has a piece added, I agreed with Esmerelde, it felt rushed.
All in all, I think it improved a lot.

Love the story :liplick:
can't wait to read the rest of it

Thanks Avenger55, glad to hear that


Chapter6: Questions

On the way the way back, they hardly spoke. Halfway, they stopped at a small river to clean themselves of all the dirt they gathered up crawling on the forests' wet soil and the blood from the men they had slaughtered. Pilatus' right arm was completely covered in blood, just as the largest part of his upper body. Crusts were drying up in his fur, staining it almost black.

The cat looked in disgust as the elf threw himself into the river and submerged completely. Clappering his teeth he emerged the river, cold but content and clean.

There they also decided the armour they took from the dead was too hot to keep or sell so threw it in the river so it wouldn't be found easily. Maybe they could sell it to the Thieves' Guild but it was too heavy to carry around until they would be able to get in touch with the guild. Besides that, it wouldn't fit the outlaws anyway. Hargeth was too tall to wear an Imperial's armour and the Khajiit, well; the Legion didn't hire Khajiiti so it was useless as a disguise.

A little while before they reached the camp, one of the legs of the horse Pilatus was riding went limp. It had stepped into a pothole hidden by vegetation. Even though the hole hadn't been that deep, it was enough for the horse to break its ankle. They both knew that was never going to heal so they put the poor animal down. The bags it was carrying were transferred onto the other horse. To keep the pace up, the men decided Hargeth would ride the horse and the Khajiit would run next to it. 'Now the Legion will be really on our hides when they find their collegues dead. Hope you got a good plan.'

'Those weren't guards. Those were hired mercenaries, Blackwood Company. Remember those vials we found?'
'Yeah, they smelled funny, even with the cork on.'
Pilatus nodded, 'That's because they contained Hist Sap. It smells rather strong and I wouldn't advise you to drink the horrid stuff. Heard some very uneasing stories about people under Hist Sap influence.'

'So that's why you are so sure those guys we killed weren't Legion soldiers?'
Pilatus nodded shortly. 'I had the pleasure of dealing with those?Blackwood thugs before, I recognised that foul smell half a mile away.' Pilatus almost spat the word Blackwood out, it was clear the Khajiit hated them even more than the notoriously corrupt Imperial Legion regulars. 'Besides, guards wouldn't have had a wanted poster with them.' The bandit was right. The Legion would have persued them until they dropped and would never have made camp. 'Blackwood Company? Never heard of that.'

'You must be joking?' was the cat's reply. The Elf shook his head.
'Fraid not.'
'So, how long have you been in prison then?'
'Hmmm, couple of months, maybe close to a year, hard to keep track of time when every day is the same.'
'True,' Pilatus replied in a melancholic tone. 'The Blackwood company must be after the Fighter's guild jobs. They must be really desperate.' Hargeth gave him a non-understanding look. 'Why? What d'ya mean?'
'They came after you didn't they?' Slowly it was starting to make sense to the puzzled Elf.'..Because they took a job from the Legion?'
'Exactly!'
'That means?'
The Khajiit completed the sentence:'..that the Legion had nothing to do with it. It's Avidius' private contract. And when they find out they're dead, there is no way Blackwood Company will send more recrutes after us.'
'Afraid they will all end up dead, right?'
'Right.'
A few moments later they were both laughing until it hurt in their sides. Avidius would be furious.

When they finally arrived at the camp Rhialla had made in their abscence, the deer Pilatus shot was already sputtering and dripping with grease above a campfire. The delicious smell made their mouth water. It awoke their stomach, letting them know it had been at least over half a day they had eaten. They were truly starving. Pilatus impatiently reached to take a piece of the deer still cooking but a fire-spitting glimpse of Rhialla convinced him to wait so he sat himself down and awaited for the cook to give him a piece.

For the starving men it seemed like hours before they could eat. Hargeth hadn't eaten that good in years. In his opinion, even the meals the Talos Plaza hotel couldn't beat the meal he was having know. In fact, he couldn't remember having a better dinner ever. The day of fleeing hadn't spoiled the meat at all. Knowing nothing about hunting or preparing food, little did he know game needs to ripe. He'd just call it plainly rot.

To flush the meat away, Rhialla unveiled an expensive bottle of wine. It tasted nothing like the cheap, red fluid, also referred to as wine, he had drunk before. The only comparison was the rich, darkred, colour. Having statisfied his appetite he made himself comfortable by leaning back. A rock spoilt it. With an uneasy look on his face he reached between his back and the ground to remove the rock that had poked in his back in a very unpleasant manner.

Annoyed he threw the rock a far end of where it had been, into the forest. Still, he wasn't happy, where the rock used to be was now a hole. It wasn't going to get any better. 'What am I doing?' Remembering the spare bedrolls they found in the saddlebags, he jumped up and went to the single remaining horse and took out a spare bedroll. The thought not having to lie down on lumps and holes brought a boyish grin to his face. When he returned to put the bedroll down, where he sat earlier, Pilatus rolled his big, yellow eyes and made a face, 'Cityfolk?' Hargeth made a face back. 'I think I've slept on stone long enough,' he replied on Pilatus' pun while sitting down and removing the tight, leather boots borrowed to him. As soon as they were of, he sighed in relieve.

'Speaking of which, how did you get out anyway?'

'The long or the short version?'

'The short version will do.' The story ended when the Khajiit, in laughter repeated Hargeth. 'You what? You stabbed Avidius with his own bottle?' A flashback brought the Elf back to the fight they had. He had been right, the bandit did have a strange sense of humour.
'Wish I could have seen it.'
'I bet you would.' The questions he's been meaning to ask where burning on his tongue. He had awaited an appropriate time to ask, this was it. 'Now, tell me something, was our ? encounter coincidence? It was Rhialla in the cell next to me a couple of months ago, wasn't it? Why are you helping me? Surely not because you hit me in the foot or because I was broke? Or maybe because I was so damn nice to her in jail? A real bandit would have killed me anyway. You two,' he made a headgesture towards Rhialla, 'aren't really bandits, are ya? 'Cause if you are, I am eating this old robe,' he fired his questions while pulling on the fabric of the, probably moth invested, robe. 'The big question remains: If you aren't bandits, then what are you?
I suppose I can leave out the Legion because the Legion doesn't hire Argonians, Khajiiti or Orcs. That only leaves the Thieves' guild or Fighter's guild. From what I've gathered, the Dark Brotherhood is some sort of Daedra worshipping idiot's cult pretending to be assasins and you don't strike me as idiots.'

Rhialla and Pilatus shared a couple of awkward looks. The Elf definitely wasn't gullible. They would have to come clean and tell him the truth. Not sure Hargeth could be trusted enough to know the whole story, Pilatus decided to tell him the need-to-know things only. They needed to know what Hargeth knew.
'Did you know the Emperor and his sons are all dead? The Empire is at war.'

'So, that's why the prisoncompound was nearly empty when I escaped. The Legion is pre-occupied?' Hargeth didn't seem too bothered or shocked with the news.
'This still doesn't explain how you knew where to find me. I am pretty convinced you knew who I am even before you attacked me and hit me in the foot. That wasn't an accident either, was it? What do you want from me?' Hargeth's voice had become slightly hostile. He didn't like being played a fool and had a feeling he had been played.

You end it there!
NOOOOO :violin:

I'm sorry, but I find extraordinarily difficult to sit and actually read this whole thing, when it isn't broken up into nice, neat little paragraphs. I've skimmed it though. It's an interesting story, but, and this was already mentioned, prison escapes in TES are kinda cliche by now. The main problems I found were already addressed, and keep it up. I'll try to follow it, if my eyes don't get locked in place by then.