Dungeons of Bruma, 4E 190

Two long years had past since Durzub gro-Yargol was taken prisoner by the Bruma guard during a bandit attack that he was took part in. For the most part, the bandits were competent fighters, despite the odd misstep here and there; but it wasn't until his own poor negotiating skills that the attack was halted by the Imperial guard. Two long years since he saw most of his accomplices slain before his eyes, as he laid helplessly paralysed on the cold snow of Bruma. He was thirty eight years of age now, middle-aged for a man, but old for an Orc. Orcish faith demands that any Orc who wished to please Malacath must die what they call, a "good death". Durzub had let two years sink by without lifting a finger, well at least in an attempt to escape. It was a wonder they didn't just execute him, and if Durzub were anything more than a brute, albeit with a bit of knowledge in negotiation, he would tell you. Every morning the "slop drudge" would give the prisoners their food, a single meal a day. This Orc was used to three, or even four meals a day; his body began to suffer. His strong muscles were nothing more than a distant memory, and as he was surrounded by cold walls of stone, he couldn't even get any exercise.

On this day, one such slop drudge devoted five minutes of his life to giving the prisoners their meals. The jail itself was small, with only two single prisoners other than Durzub, and were much less vicious. They were always grateful for their food, even going as far as thanking the slop drudge. This infuriated Durzub greatly, he was stuck in an Imperial prison full of weaklings. Something about hearing the appreciation of the prisoners on this day touched a nerve in his body, he was now too angry to simply let another day, week, or year go by without action; he was going to act, now. It's worth mentioning that if it were not for his brutish nature, he would have devised a far better plan than this one, but Durzub gro-Yargol was an awful planner, he left that to his Bosmer friend.. who he last saw laying headless on the night of the raid. The slop drudge approached his cell.

"Goblin! What are you just going to stand there? Take your bread loaf!"

Durzub approached the cell door quickly, before the unavailing slop drudge could even blink. In an energetic movement of his left arm, he grabbed the sickening Imperials throat, intent on killing him. He kicked and kicked in avain, and with what little oxygen he had spare, begged the prisoner to let him go; Durzub didn't utter a single word, instead revealing a dreadful grin.

"Guards! Guards! The slop drudge is being attacked!"

The cries of the pathetic Imperial prisoners alerted the guards as the slop drudges corpse laid dead on the floor. Durzub heard the prison door rattling, the rattling of someone trying to unlock it; he had to move quickly if he wanted to have a chance at escaping. Taking the dead mans key from his pocket, he opened the cell door quickly, preparing himself for the Bruma guard. A single Imperial rushed through the door.. He paused, eyeing the escaped prisoner. He didn't say a word, instead he shivered in fear as he observed the corpse on the ground. Durzub paced towards him as the Imperial drew his Longsword. In a single swing the Imperial guard had pierced his neck in a stabbing motion, but the Orc didn't even flinch, but instead he grabbed hold of his body, and head butted the guard until he was bleeding on the floor. A Longsword.. That's no good I'll need a bigger weapon. Durzub thought it through in his head carefully, and proceeded through the main door, ignoring the cries of the prisoners; but not before changing into the guards armour.

On the other side of the door he found a single empty room, with a few weapon holders. And there was his prize.. A Fine Steel Claymore of the best quality. He took it into his hands and without hesitating, carried on into the castle. The screams of noble women in the dining hall alerted yet more guards. This time there were three, all intent on killing their escaped prisoner. In a large swinging motion, Durzub was the first to attack. He successfully managed to incapacitate one of the guards; and now there were two. The next two blows simply deflected off of Durzub's light armour, and the next blow after that crushed yet another guard; this time killing him.

"I yield! Please.. Don't hurt me! I'll help you escape!" Said the third and the final guard, dropping his weapon and shield.

I can have some fun with this one. Let's see..

"Take off your gauntlets." Replied Durzub gro-Yargol, smiling menacingly.

"My.. my.. gauntlets sir? .. Of course! Haha, why of course......"

The guard did as he was told, as the noble women of castle Bruma cried to no avail. What was about happen was not pretty. Durzub dropped his Claymore, placing it nearby on the ground.

"They say that one of the worst things to lose on your entire body, are your fingernails." Explained Durzub, as he picked up the incapacitated guards Iron Dagger.

"I... I wouldn't know sir?" Said the helpless guard, shaking uncontrollably.

It would seem that rest of the castle had no idea that he had escaped. In order to maintain order, he demanded that the shivering guard stay put, as he walked over to the door where the three noble women were laying in paralysing fear. After slitting their throats one by one, he proceeded to barricade the door; but not before making short work of a lone guard who was patrolling the staircase. Upon returning, he saw that the guard was still recoiling in fear, much to Durzub's surprise. Humans are much more cowardly than Orcs. The Imperial man was kneeling on the floor before a scorching hot hearth. After all, Bruma is the coldest city outside of Skyrim by far. Instructing him to stay put, Durzub gro-Yargol walked over to the fire with dagger in hand, lighting it. Grabbing the guards throat, he then began to de-nail him as he screamed louder than he heard any man scream before. Yet this sound was not unfamiliar to Durzub. This was enough to alert the whole of Bruma, let alone the castle.

Clashing and loud banging emerged from the barricaded door, as the sadistic Orc slowly finished the job, ripping off the innocent Imperials fingernails, and burning the insides of them as his injured accomplice watched in horror. He allowed the Imperial to suffer for a while longer as he made his way over to the incapacitated guard, this time with his Claymore. After violently beheading him, he readied himself for the onslaught.