[The Reach;closed] Here Be Savages...

The bolt missed by a few inches, slightly scorching Amelin's leather tunic but otherwise leaving her unharmed. The arrow caught him near the heart, but only seemed to drive him more and more as he staggered and attempted to launch a final fireball before he collapsed onto the ground. He was incapatcitated for now, but that only left seven to kill now.

Asren charged at the Dunmer male she's spotted in the crowd, this time a younger man than the eye-patch wearing one from earlier who carried a pair of short-swords. He struck out first, only nicking Asren's arm and her armored torso as her shield almost flattened the side of his head as it collided and sent him sprawling on the ground.

Almost on cue a large and very hairy Nord with the crude spear charged Asren, nearly impaling her with the weapon before she struck back by slicing his neck with her sword.

Not one to linger; Asren focused on another, younger Nord who was carrying a broadsword and shield like hers. The two dueled hard, the rest seemingly watching anxiously as their swords and shields clashed and clanged together for about a minute, only for the clash to end as Asren stabbed at the Nord's leg and then finished him with a blow across the neck that must have severed an artery given the blood that sprayed so much.

Meanwhile, two more charged towards Amelin, one a haggard looking Forsworn carrying a crudely made axe in his hand and the other seeming to have a bow and quiver on her back as she carried daggers in hers. Both were prime targets, but the Wood-elf huntress only had the chance to take out one at a time...at least with a bow that is.

Amelin only had two arrows remaining to begin with, she let one fly towards the Forsworn archer, again hitting her in the chest, then proceeded to unsheath her twin steel daggers.

The ax-man swung wildly and undisciplined, Amelin ably blocked with her right hand before shifting herself to the Forsworn's left. Before he could try to react, she had already plunged the dagger in her left into the side of the man's throat.

Asren saw the last two go down, and gave Amelin a nod in approval before she was swarmed with three more Forsworn; two more bretons, one a man and the other a woman, carrying short swords and another Khajiit in bandit furs who carried a cleaver of all things.

The cat was killed with a backhanded swing of Asren's sword, cutting his throat quickly and decisively, and one of the Bretons came next as Asren decapitated him and tackled the woman hard. The She-Breton collided with the fort railing, her neck snapping with a loud and hideous crack that jarred Asren away.

Two more were left; another, long-haired and stubbly-jawed Nord who carried Imperial pike ironically enough, and a Bosmer with a bow and arrow in hand. Asren gave Amelin a look, and a grin as she collected herself. "I call the kinsman." She called out before charging the Nord in question with a battle cry, barely avoiding being stabbed with the pike, and smashed into him with her shield like so many before and lopped his head right off on the spot while he reeled.

Amelin didn't have time to ready her bow for another shot, so she rushed the bosmer archer, hoping to reach him in time before he let the shot out.

Unfortunately, she was off by just one second as she felt the rather painful sensation of an iron tip plunged into her thigh. However, it was not enough to change the Bosmer's fate as he felt the similar sensation of steel against his soft throat.

Before the pikeman's body ran cold, Asren had already taken Amelin's side as she inspected the wound with a careful eye. "Damn...how bad is it?" The Nord asked, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

Amelin gave her a look, wincing all the while. Arrows after all, really fucking hurt.

"It's not as bad as it looks." She said in pain whilst trying to dislodge the arrow from her leg. Being careful so as to not to further aggravate her wound, thankfully, the arrow didn't penetrate too deep. Though it was remarkable Amelin didn't start screaming due to the pain.

Finally, she managed to remove the arrow, quickly she dressed the wound with one of the rags being worn by the Forsworn corpses. Crude, but it would have to do for now.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare potion, would you?"

Asren nodded, handing her something to help speed things up until they could find a healer. Asren kept watch for any more around, while searching the corpses for what could be used. Aside from some Septims and a potion to replace the one she'd given up, the Nord found little of use.

"Brat's dead either way, and there's little use in dragging you along with a bad leg. This thing was doomed from the beginning." Asren mused grimly, sitting beside Amelin with her sword at hand.

Amelin accepted the offered potion and took a swig. The pain at least lessened for the moment, but she would need a proper healer to treat the wound. At least she found the strength to stand up, albeit with a noticeable limp.

"Shame, ah well, least it'll make for a funny story, eh?"

"Assuming we live to tell people about it."

The Nord chuckled, helping Amelin to the stairs. Over time that potion Amelin drank would help her leg heal, and she was fine for now at the least.

After they took a moment to collect themselves and resupply what they could, the pair walked up the stairwell. Over time, they heard what sounded like fighting, bloody fighting, as they found the door to the top of the stairwell.

Asren motioned for Amelin to take one side of the doorway, then took the other. They both listened for the longest time, only to find nothing to hear. Part of Asren knew that whatever lay behind that door it was bound to be horrific no matter what.

Already, the Nord hated herself for wanting a look inside.

The pain had started to subside thanks to the potion, and it was nothing a good healer wouldn't fix. Least the chance of infection had been mitigated.

She took positioned near the other side, dagger drawn.

There better not be another group of Forsworn, I swear to the Divines... She wasn't sure they'd be able to handle another melee like the last one.

From her position, she nodded to Asren, ready to burst through.

In the middle of the room that lay ahead stood a slender and middle-aged altmer, almost deathly pale with gaunt cheekbones and reddened eyes, clad in dark robes as he clutched a wickedly curved dagger in one hand. The other held the swiftly decaying corpse of what resembled a Nord barely in his twenties, the corpse was hunched over a cauldron as the Altmer finished with seemingly draining it of blood for some unholy ritual. The body was missing a few fingers, the stumps of which were crudely cauterized with magic flames long before, and he'd had his neck slit with the dagger most likely.

Surrounding the cauldron were the bodies of many of the bandits, stripped of any clothes or identifiable marks on them like the bodies holding the hidden cavern door open, all butchered in a macabre-yet almost methodical manner with blood all around the room marking the floors with daedric symbols. In the corner stood a briarheart, almost in a trance even as he watched the grisly scene unfold impassively.

Asren stormed in, and was hit head on by the stench of rotting death. She coughed, almost vomiting outright from the powerful stink before looking upon the Altmer with her sword drawn. It was difficult even for her, but Asren readied herself for battle once again easily enough.

With a curious look in his eye, the Altmer glanced at Asren and made a soft noise of surprise.
"I had thought you and your friend would've taken longer." The Altmer mused, almost chuckling as he let the body fall before Asren's feet for effect. "Neither you nor your Bosmer friend have a chance against the likes of myself, and I've little time for chitchat with such rabble. My puppets have only delayed you enough for the ritual to have been finished, and I've no reason to prolong my stay here in this hovel of a fort."

Asren didn't even dignify the mage's words with a response, instead she charged with a loud battle cry and her sword held overhead. The Nord's attack was of no avail, however, and she was sent flying back by a wave of magical energy while her blade hovered in place. Asren hit the ground with a loud grunt and a clatter of metal, cursing herself as she looked upon the corpse of whom she'd sworn to bring back.

"A pity you were to be here, but it matters little whether you live or die here. Pray you don't find me again." The Altmer said, his bemusement exchanged for thinly veiled contempt and venom. Before Asren could react, the mage had already disappeared in a puff of smoke and bright lights. Her weapons fell onto the ground before her as she took a moment to mourn the corpse's fate.

That time was shortened severely however, as the briarheart sprang to life and sent a torrent of flame hurdling towards Asren. The Nord cursed and reached for her sword while her shield lay discarded for now. The briarheart sent more flames at Asren, and the Nord barely managed to dodge the next torrent. She felt a burn on her side, no doubt a glancing hit from the flames, but charged the briarheart without letting the pain get to her.

Of course, a little assistance would be nice right now.

Minding the pain, if only for a few moments, Amelin leaped at the Briarheart's back, stabbing him repeatedly with her dagger, and hoping it would buy Asren time to lay the killing blow.

Of course, she had never fought a Briarheart before, nor was she aware of their partial undead nature. As evidence, despite her repeated strikes, the humanoid abomination showed no signs of fatigue, or wear.

Amelin's attack gave off a window of opportunity, the Briarheart flailing helplessly as the Bosmer cut into it over and over again. Needless to say, she took it with interest. Both of the Nord's daggers plunged right into the Briarheart's chest, the creature giving a final groan before it collapsed and died, slumping to the ground as blood flowed from every wound it received.

"Gods's blood..." Asren breathed, retrieving each of her blades before helping Amelin to her feet. She glanced over at the body of Erich, the young man who they'd risked it all for and frowned. "All this for nothing, what a damned mess..." she muttered grimly as she retrieved her shield before going to help Amelin stand.

The tall nord gave her companion a sad look, shaking her head as she rubbed her neck. "I am sorry for dragging you into this, if I'd known we'd find this..." Asren trailed off as she closed her eyes and cursed under her breath, only stopping to find a necklace bearing a family seal; the seal to their own employer even, some heavyweight over in Markarth who'd dealt with more than they could handle to begin with.

The Nord did not look forward to returning to Markarth again, not like this.

"It's fine" Amelin stated as she sheathed her dagger, although her stunt ended up reopening her wound again, they couldn't stay here for much longer.

She looked at the necklace Asren held in her hand. "Well, least we have something to tell our employer." She said bitterly, her thoughts then turned to that Altmer mage that escaped from their grasp. "Who was that man anyhow?"

"Don't know, but I've got a bad feeling we'll figure it out later." Asren shrugged, pulling out bandages and beginning to re-dress Amelin's leg before offering her a shoulder to hold on to as they hobbled on out.

"We'll ask around soon as you're good to move on your own, until then we're going to have to lay low." She mused, shrugging a bit. The first thing Asren wanted right now was to get all this out of her head for a few hours, preferably with strong drinks.

'Freshly brewed mead would be nice about now, for one...'

"You and me both." Amelin said as she placed her arm on Asren's shoulder and began hobbling out.

"Meantime, I'd like to be as far away from this place as possible."

"Of course." Asren promised, swearing to protect Amelin the whole way as they made their way out...