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The Velothi Mountains

As the lizard dragged her, Valah reached backwards to her belt quiver. Grasping an arrow, she flung her armed hand in to Guljah's side. He reeled backwards in pain and dropped the huntress. As soon as she was free, Valah notched an arrow to her already drawn bow. Quick as the arrow, Guljah dived out of the projectile's path; even as he prepared to counter her attack with a spell. He was to late. Valah unleashed two arrows into him. The first struck his shoulder, the second pierced his left eye and erupted from the back of his head, sending a contrail of scarlet gore in it's wake. The argonian hit the ground like a sack of horker waste.

After catching her breath she peered past the opening rays of dawn, and at the smoke rising from the hall. “No, troll's blood.”


Yngol's Post

The Imperials struck the hall with a tremendous war-cry. They cut down men, women, and children, without hesitation, staining the snow a deep shade of maroon. A seemingly random and unfortunate Stormcloak patrol happened to cross paths at the same time.

Xanthor cut through the rebels with ease. Half way through the battle he felt suddenly ill, what devilry was this? He leaned against a post to regain his strength.

Dravos Gahn walked around the hall to were he sensed the nord attempting to recover his strength. “Xanthor, why are you, the fabled beast, cowering like a child during this fight?” he sneered. The nord grunted back something incoherent back in response. Now was the time. Dravos withdrew a elven dagger and stabbed the nord in the gut twice, the second time leaving the dagger lodge in place.

Xanthor howled out in agony before muttering, “Son of lich.”

The dark-elf smiled and kicked him in the groin before leaving the nord to hemorrhage out his last moments on Nirn.

As soon as the the few residents who remained were dealt with, Gahn ordered the men to depart for the ship. Still the he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that someone was missing. Guljah! He recalled that the lizard left to the mountains to check for scouts, hunters, or any others that might provided information for the war effort. “Wulfred!” he called out for his preferred lackey.

“He's dead sir. Cleft in half by a soldier's halberd.” stated a shaky blonde-haired warrior.

“Well then, Ventius!” ordered the elf.

“Here my lord.” answered a half-blind imperial who leaned against a spear twice his size.

“Take the men back to the ship right away. I will be there soon. If the Stormcloak mutts spy you, then sail to Solitude.” with that the elf wandered into the woods.