Young Writers Society

Moghakh, Wielder of Volendrung

Mehrunes Dagon. Molag Bal. Nocturnal. Sanguine. The names of our enemies were still flying through my head.

Although I knew the gargantuan task of stopping god's would not be easy, I felt at rest. Possibly because I was underestimating our calling, or because it felt as if my wandering life had a purpose to it again. Although the room was silent, we all felt more comfortable.

The Breton was the first of us to speak. "I guess someone will have to start," Her smile seemed sincere but forced at the same time. "I'm good at magic but I doubt I could do anything to a Daedric Lord."

Silence. The room felt agonizing to be in.

Luckily the awkward silence was cut-off by a stumbling Imperial. "I'm sorry I'm late, I ran into some snow trolls on the way."

I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. Me and Sorek had to travel through Falmer infested caves, Giant camps, Sabre Cat dens, and everything else Tamriel could throw at us but we managed to make it on time. In fact we had enough time for some mead before the ceremony started.

He introduced himself as Tullio Marcellinus, I pretty much had him worked out from the moment he spoke. His snobbish personality and tone along side his brightly coloured, velvet clothing allowed me to assume he was part of the famed Elder Council. I could sense his cowardice through his arrogance.

The room was somewhat settled again. The Altmer found the confidence to introduce herself. Another mage. The Breton and the Altmer began to talk about their magic and people were actually interested! Much to my relief, the Altmer said we should find signs of the Daedric princes. I felt this would be a good time to introduce myself.

I couldn't think of a way to get attention to I dropped my hammer onto the table with a deep thud that echoed through the temple, all but Sorek turned their head towards me. "I am Moghakh the Wielder of Volendrung," The others seemed confused. "if you hadn't guessed already, this is Volendrung." I placed my hands on the hammer and the red eye began to glow brightly. "Sorek and I have been travelling together around all parts of Tamriel. My tribe was murdered by his former allies, the Nightingales. It's quite complicated." He laughed. The others weren't as amused. "With us here this task is much easier for more than one reason."

The Cat, who had remained oddly quiet this whole time, spoke up. "Ki’Tzung is unsure of how you will be anything but a hindrance to our progress, you will most likely get us all killed, yes?"

The stench of the Cat was still filling my nose. "Although I may not be quiet, Sorek is. He's also the only thing that we can use to begin this journey," Sorek looked at me, uncrossed his arms and legs and sat up. "he is our only straight forward link to one of the Daedric lords. Nocturnal."

The whole room looked at him. He scanned the room. I could tell he was uncomfortable. We waited anxiously for his reaction.

Sorek

Somehow the atmosphere in the room had turned sour. Why did Moghakh have to mention that, I thought.

"Yes I worked for Nocturnal, I was a member of the Nightingales after all," I retorted. "What significance does this have now?" I asked, directing the question more to Moghakh who had told them about this detail.

"It could have every significance," the latecomer said with a voice full of that Imperial arrogance. A voice that had already began to annoy me.

"I'm sorry but who asked for your opinion? You didn't even arrive on time for Akatosh's sake. Hell, Moghakh and I had to probably battle every inch of our way here." Despite being unfazed and indifferent to many situations, bringing up my history and doubting my loyalty really aggravated me. "Anyway, I can be used to seek out Nocturnal. For some reason she seems to favour me and this can be used to our advantage."

"Ki'Tzung asks how can this be beneficial to us?" The Khajit asked, with that usual quirk of talking in third-person.

"I don't know yet. However, in order to get to our realm, there has to be followers that work for the Daedra...they are who we are looking for. And if all comes to worse, I'm pretty handy with a sword. But now, where should we start looking?"

Ki ‘Tzung

I was sure we could all use Nocturnal’s connection with the Reguard as a ploy for a kind of trap or trick against her followers, yet would have to wait- it was too early to begin plotting attacks against our enemies before we had even left the room in which we started the quest. I thought deeply about our next move. Where could we go to first? Akatosh had not even revealed the location of the blasted Scroll, how in Tamriel could the group locate it without a form of their divine intervention?
And then it hit me.

“If Ki ‘Tzung could suggest an idea?”

The heads in the room faced me, some intent to hear me, others impatient for me to speak, perhaps the riddle that faced us had already began to invoke stress upon a few.
“Hurry up and talk cat, we haven’t all day,” the Orc grunted rudely.

“We do not know of the location of the Elder Scroll, which is a great problem indeed. However, if we do not know, and the Divines do not either, that leaves us to wonder if the Daedra do. If they have no clue themselves, then we have little to worry about since they shall be chasing wild geese. However, Ki ‘Tzung has thought of the other possibility. If they are aware, then it is only a matter of a bit of spying for us to discover ourselves.”

“Easier said than done,” spoke the Nord, “I sincerely doubt beings as despicable and cunning as the Daedra would fall for such a trick.”

“Perhaps not,” I agreed, “however, there is still mortal error to be taken into consideration. It is highly likely that at least one of the grunts in the ranks of the divisions will forget the information they have been given, which is when we shall learn of our goal’s location.”

Aeril

The Redguard was working for Nocturnal. He said she favors him. Am I the only one who sees a problem with this? I looked around the room, but everybody had expressions that struck me as more thoughtful than angry. Of course. Half the others are probably working for the Daedra too. I'll have to wait and see who isn't. And sleep lightly.

The Khajiit suggested that we might learn the information from one of the mortals the Daedra use. I stepped forward. "Do you really think that every man in their army might know the location? I doubt this. Most likely, only their most highly valued generals and priests will know where to go, and they won't be the type to forget or spill their secrets."

The Orc growled, "Do you have a better idea, elf?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." I glared at the Redguard. "If Nocturnal favors him so, why doesn't he just ask her?" Before anybody could remark on my wanting him to commit suicide or some such point, I added, "Tell her that you need to know to be able to retrieve it for her." After all, he'd probably try and fetch it to her anyway if we found it; this way at least I could watch and see what he does. Judge him.

Sorek

This whole Nocturnal malarkey had really darkened the atmosphere, I thought at the Altmer's suggestion, as if Nocturnal would just tell me that. Shrugging off the idea, I decided to put forward something useful.

"All we have to do is find a Daedric altar...a sort of worshipping place," I said, "We should no doubt find some individuals that know of the Daedra's plans."

"And where do you suppose we should go then?" The Altmer asked, an edge to her voice, an edge that could've been anger. I could tell that these people were not going to trust me but to hell with them. As long as Moghakh sticks with me, not a lot could go wrong.

"Obviously you High Elves don't get out enough," I retorted and was met with the satisfaction of her bristling at the insult. "Although I may be a hunted man, I do still hear things...one such thing is that there is a cult who worships Molag Bal," And with saying that, I pulled out a map and laid it on the table, placing it so everyone could see. I then proceeded to unsheathe my sword, inverted my grip and stabbed it into the map.

"This is where the cult resides," I announced, with a dramatic voice.

Markarth!

Ki'Tzung

Yes, Markarth, a hold which I passed on my travels to High Hrothgar, quite near to Hammerfell too, closer to home. Regardless, Sorek, who, one would assume, also longed to be closer to his homeland since the Reach connected to it. Although the dwarven settlement did indeed contain a shrine to Molag Bal, I had heard of much trouble with the Forsworn Bretons who had contested possession of the mineral rich mines. I did not expect it to affect us at all, so I thought it pointless to mention the information at that point in time.

"Markarth is a long travel from our current location," I said, "yet Ki'Tzung thinks it would be a good start, after all, we have little else to go on. If the Redguard has knowledge that is of any use at all to us, it would be wise to use it to our advantage."

And even if little came from the expedition, I could haggle the high-quality silver seen in the Reach from salesmen and make a few trinkets to make profit from.

Ki’Tzung

We were bid farewell by the Greybeards shortly after our decision to begin our quest in the historically Dwarven hold of Markarth. Of course walking such a distance would waste a large amount of time, one such resource we had, potentially, little of and therefore we requested a note from the council of High Hrothgar to appeal for kind treatment and supplies from those dwelling at the foot of the seven-thousand steps. The people of Ivarstead, as we were told by the Greybeards, were generous and hard-working people, but would not suffer fools. Smiling, I had already made the personal challenge of seeing just how much gold I could haggle from them.

Just as we had prepared ourselves, the panicky demeanour of the Imperial could no longer be contained, “There are trolls out there!” he screamed, horror in his eyes. “I brought a legion with me, all of them, dead.” He seemed as if he was about to sob; did he really believe death was imminent? We had been judged, by the powerful Divines, as the greatest adventurers in Tamriel, no number of three-eyed woolly trolls were going to stop us, especially not the determination I saw upon my allies’ faces.
As the stone gates opened we all gazed around, checking for the first sight of danger, it was great to hear that I could fight this group and discover just how prolific they truly were. Down the charcoal stairs we trod and marched across the cobblestone road, the feisty snow stinging my skin and the violent gales whipping my tail. Visible on the horizon were the bloody remains of men, quite clearly the Imperials that the latecomer had told us about.

“Milk drinkers,” I heard the Orc grunt, the common insult no surprise to hear from such a brute. He walked forwards to inspect the carnage as a savage roar came from the left of us, and a blood-soaked frost-troll pounced Moghakh. He had already drawn his mythical hammer in anticipation of the attack, and was now struggling with the beast. A chorus of brutal cries came across the west hill and more trolls appeared from behind the snow. The fray grew, and I felt the adrenaline rush through my body as I drew my mace from its belt.

“Ki’Tzung accepts your challenge Divines!” I yelled, lunging forward into the hideous face belonging to one of the beasts.

Aeril

I smiled at the way the orc and the khajiit dove into battle. Like children, waving around sticks and pretending they were battling pirates. Cute, but inconsequential.

I stepped forward and opened my palm. It warmed and scarlet flames crawled through my fingers. The sensation was akin to the warmth of the sun's rays; however, the trolls would find it substantially more uncomfortable. I concentrated, and the troll who was about to strike me twisted and fell, burning. The snow around him sizzled and evaporated as I carefully stepped over the body. One more reason not to wear robes; they had a tendency to trip their owners.

A blow from behind knocked me to the ground. Which one of my useless companions let a troll get beyond the defensive line? A question to be answered later. I rolled onto my back just in time to yell as it stomped on my fingers, breaking my concentration and bringing tears to my eyes from the pain. The fire disappeared.

I gritted my teeth. "That was the mistake of a suicidal imbecile." I clenched my broken fist, sending new jolts of pain up my arm. "You...will...heal...NOW!" The pain in my hand disappeared, and I rolled to the side to avoid the downward stab of the troll's club. I pushed myself to my feet and unhooked my axe from my belt. "I gave your comrade a relatively painless death, but spending your life fighting pirates teaches you a few things." I gashed the creature across the belly so it doubled over. "Such as which methods of death are the most painful and slow. You will rot from the inside."

I left the troll to it's misery and went to go assist my companions, inwardly wondering which ones let the troll past. The sniveling Imperial was hanging back, eyes wide. "Coward," I muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

I think I know my enemies now. After all, my two comrades flanking me in the battle line were the Imperial and the Daedra-worshiping Redguard. Although it wouldn't hurt not to trust any of the others as well.

Karin Bouchard
I giggled as the frost trolls approached, ignoring the fact that I got some odd looks. I hadn't really managed to get into any fight on the way up, so it was only fair that I'd get to fight on the way down. I watched as the wood elf lit up one of the trolls. Fire is the most effective weapon against any troll, I remember a fellow mage at the college telling me. I certainly wasn't going to argue with someone who spent all his time collecting troll fat.

A troll was charging towards me, so I called for a Flame Thrall, and then another one. They kept the trolls away from me, allowing me to draw my bow and have some fun on my own. One shot in the leg to slow them down, and then one shot through the eye to kill them off. I tried not to smile, but I couldn't help it. This is all so exciting! Who knew, maybe I'd get to meet another Divine, or maybe one of the Daedric Lords. I really had to get a new notebook to write down this whole adventure in. I laughed as one of my Thralls took down another troll.

I aimed at another approaching troll, but before I had time to fire, two burning wolves jumped at the troll and blew up simultaneously. I turned towards the dunmer, smiling as she conjured two new ones. “Flaming familiars? That’s wicked. You’ll have to teach me that later!”

It had always surprised me that there weren't more people interested in conjuration. If all soldiers in an army learned it, they'd be able to double - if not triple - their numbers in an instant. Some people were a bit suspicious against the daedra, but people in this land were suspicious against most magic, so why bother caring? One of my Thralls fell, so I summoned another to replace it. Why even bother with an army? Soldiers could just send their summons to fight for them.

I stepped back, and climbed up on a rock to get a better view. The orc was ferocious with his war-hammer, and like myself he seemed to be enjoying himself, the redguard handled his sword with skill, and he was sneaky and agile.. I had been expecting that much from them both, but the way they fought together as a team was surprising. The altmer was good with destruction spells, just like she had said. I looked at the others as well, taking note of their skills and smiling to myself as the trolls fell one by one. Strangely enough, I could only count eight of us. Where's the imperial?


Tullio Marcellinus
I dove down behind a rock as soon as I heard the roar of the first troll. They already thought of me as a coward, so why get myself killed trying to prove something else? When the time came they'd see that they needed the gold and army that I could provide. They'd need my influence. A dead man doesn't have any influence.

Suddenly a troll hit the ground right next to me, startling me. It took a moment to make myself breathe again. It’s already dead. Can’t tear you to pieces. Despite calming thought I couldn’t make myself stop staring at the beast.

“If you’re trying to glare it to death, you’re a bit late.” My head snapped up as I realized the dunmer was watching me. She looked at me with a blank expression. A white Dark Elf.. That’s interesting. An explosion shook the ground, and she didn’t even blink.

For a moment I considered getting up, but I soon ruled against it. Let them think what they want. They’re lucky you’re here, and you can’t help them if you’re dead. Besides, what would happen to the empire if you died? I shook my head. No, I was staying put.

“I’m better at healing and talking,” I said with a slight smile. “I’d just get in the way.” Hopefully that would be.. I stared at my sleeve. Troll blood. Troll blood on my clothes. A sudden wave of nausea hit me.

“A healer who can’t stand the sight of blood?”

Not when it’s on me! I had to resist the impulse to yell at her and order her to get some new clothes for me.. I highly doubted that any of these people wanted to be treated like servants. You have to hire someone when you get to that village. A nobleman shouldn’t be running around without a single servant.

“I take it you’re a magician, without armor or weapons?” I said in a sharper tone than I had intended. “And since you’re a dunmer I assume you’re good at conjuration?” She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit.. Cliché?”

“Says the Imperial who can’t do anything but talk.”

I frowned. I don’t see anything wrong with not wanting to die.. She walked away, probably going after some troll. .. but if I keep this up the others are going to despise me to a point where my words can’t do anything about it. I swallowed. I knew what I needed to do, but my body refused to move. This was my chance to make myself known as a hero. One of the nine who saved Tamriel from the evil Daedric Lords. My name would become a legend..

Slowly I got up, looking around me to make sure I wasn’t in any danger. Spells. Guardian Circle was always a good start. It would keep healing me as I fought. You’re going to get yourself killed. I ignored the thought and drew my sword. Now I only needed a troll.

I looked around again, this time for a small troll, or perhaps an injured one. Preferably one without arm.. Or legs.. Or head.

“Imperial!” My head snapped up, and I was faced by the Breton. Her eyes were wide, and she had a frozen smile on her lips. These people. Are they all so.. “Behind you!” .. insane?

I turned around just in time to see a gray, not-so-clean-looking, mass approaching at an alarming speed. I froze again, my heart feeling as if it had stopped. Unable to move, I watched as my black sword seemed to disappear in the mass. When I finally realized what had happened, it was already too late. I was pinned under a dead troll, and I could barely move. I struggled for a while before calming down. Well, at least you’ll have an excuse not to fight any more.. But these clothes will never look the same.

Sorek

The amount of trolls attacking us was surprising...surely there were more trolls trying to kill us than anywhere in Skyrim or even Tamriel, I thought before being cut short by a troll's fist, aimed at my head. I leaped backwards, the fist missing my jaw by a hairs breadth only to nearly land in the clutches of another troll, from rolling and standing up. I inverted my grip on my sword and, stabbing behind me, plunged my sword into the monsters stomach. Unfazed by the wound, it still came at me. Still holding my sword in an inverted grip, I ducked under a swing and countered with two slashes to its face resulting in the troll moaning in pain. I then swiped at its legs bringing it to its knees before bringing my sword down into the top of its head. I pulled it free and flicked my sword to remove the blood before turning to deal with the troll I was fighting earlier. With a flick of my wrist, my sword flew through the air and embedded itself into the beasts chest, causing it to stagger. I then ran at it, hands outstretched and clamped the trolls head in a vice-like grip before channeling what little destruction magic I knew. The move worked as I predicted and the troll collapsed, it's head burnt and blackened by my use of flames. Another two of those creatures came lumbering towards me. It was then, that Moghakh had drawn my attention. A blood lust had overcome him and he was now fighting off three frost trolls and from the looks of him, he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Moghakh!" I shouted, alerting him to what I was about to do. It was a technique that we had long since perfected. I ran at him, praying that he still had the strength to do what we were about to do and as usual, my Orc friend failed to disappoint. Moghakh held his hammer horizontally, bracing himself. I jumped and landed on the shaft of Volungdrung, just before my friend used all his strength to send me flying upwards. Still holding my sword in an inverted grip, I plunged back down only to land on the shoulders of a frost troll. I stabbed down with my sword and sent it straight through the skull of the beast. Before it could collapse, I jumped again landing on the shoulders of a second troll and repeating the same maneuver while Moghakh pummeled the last troll's face in. I jumped and landed with a roll, only to stand up next to the Altmer who had, for some reason, had left a troll wounded but not outright killed it. Did she know how quickly trolls regenerate? I thought to myself. However, it came to me that we were slowly being driven back...and where the hell was that blasted Imperial?

Moghakh, Wielder of Volendrung

Trolls. Not just one, but many. Given the fact that it's incredibly rare to see such a number of these beasts in one place, I felt rather privileged to see so many, and also to show my skill in battle to the others. This fight was much needed, after all the time spent freezing in the Greybeard's burrow, my body felt fatigued so I needed the energy, it would also give me the chance to see the versatility of this random composition of 'warriors' from all across Tamriel.

Most of the battle I was overwhelmed by my lust to be covered in the blood of the trolls and got myself into a situation I couldn't handle alone. I was surrounded by three frost trolls, all of which I had angered. With every strike they landed and every blow I managed to parry from their mace-like claws with my massive hammer, I grew weaker.

"Moghakh!"

I quickly turned my head and saw my partner, Sorek, running at me with the speed of a Sabre Cat. I knew what I had to do. The trolls I backed away from were running at me with their knuckles smashing against the ground. Quickly, I held my hammer towards Sorek and with a great leap, he landed on Volendrung and with what strength I had left, I sent him hurtling through the sky. I used what time he gave me to take out the one of the three trolls, I viciously brought my menacing hammer down upon his durable skull causing it to bleed badly. With one final smash, the troll was dead.

I backed up, noticing the few trolls left were managing to push us back. The fire thralls conjured by the Breton coupled with the surprising strength of the silent Nord and the Altmer's destruction, the weakened trolls were slain in seconds.

The group was silent for a while, just to gain back what energy they had expelled during that fight.

"Could someone please get this disgusting creature off of me!"

The coward Imperial had found himself stuck underneath the smallest troll I had ever seen. I kicked the troll off of him. "About time one of you did something useful." He muttered sarcastically, brushing down his coat. I frowned and grabbed the lapels of his expensive clothing and lifted him off the ground, pushing him against the side of the mountain. "Be careful! This is worth more than everything you own!"

I slammed him into the side of the mountain once more, just so he knew when to stop talking. "I don't care about your fancy clothing, but what I want to know is what made the divines choose you to join us! What makes you so important they they thought you were worth bringing with us?!" My hands moved to his neck and my grasp tightened, Sorek quickly stepped in to stop me causing him any harm. Sorek said nothing, but he laid his hand on my shoulder. I barked in anger and dropped Tullio back on the floor, leaving him gasping for air. I grabbed a glass of mead from my leather backpack and marched down the mountain, leaving the group to attend to the coward.

~Anary

*

Trolls. Trolls.. I licked my lips, glaring at the one approaching me, just vaguely aware of the others fighting around me. Right. Trolls. I recalled my father telling me about them. Fire, Anary. The best weapon against them.. I waited for the troll to move a bit closer, then focusing on the summoning of flaming familiars. I can do two at once..right? I knew I could've done it back home, when I was learning it, but I haven't really been in many battles which required me doing so.

I made an effort not to show my doubt as I watched my two flaming wolves jumping at the troll. I held back a little smile as they blew up.

“Flaming familiars?" I turned to the Breton as she suddenly spoke, almost losing my focus. "That’s wicked. You’ll have to teach me that later!”

She was grinning. What even..? I did something which I hoped resembled a smile, and she ran off, leaving me the fight to me. I shook my head, conjuring new familiars as another troll approached, wondering how many of them even was there. I didn't pay attention to the others fighting - I never did, and I saw no point in that. Minding my own business usually required enough attention, and, from what I've heard of the other races, more often than not none of them would really jump in to assist me - so I've learned to fight my own battles, and leave the others to their owns.

I found myself on the ground as the troll, striding at something or running from something else, smashed its arm into my side. For a moment, I lost my breath, as it stopped to charge back at me. Well, that can't be good. I got up, conjuring two more familiars. Only one showed up. Stop doubting yourself. Your magic is probably stronger than any of theirs. I sent it at the troll, and bit back a sigh of relief as it blew up. Good. Now stop being an idiot, Anary.

I walked over to the troll lying on the ground, stopping as I spotted the Imperial, frozen and staring at it.

“If you’re trying to glare it to death, you’re a bit late," I said. His eyes snapped up and he seemed to be surprised to see me, and then twitched as another explosion echoed around us. Apparently I'm not the only one who more or less knows what she's doing. That's somewhat reassuring.

He shook his head. “I’m better at healing and talking,” he said. “I’d just get in the way.”

I wanted to tell him to then find himself a better cover, as he glared at the troll's blood on his sleeve. I hadn't even noticed it - not like seeing blood in a battle was something all that surprising - but he seemed completely distracted by it. I almost smirked. “A healer who can’t stand the sight of blood?”

He turned his attention to me again, looking a bit like he was about to lose his temper.

“I take it you’re a magician, without armor or weapons?” His tone was almost insulting. “And since you’re a dunmer I assume you’re good at conjuration?” And I take it you know everything about everyone, yes? “Isn’t that a bit.. Cliché?”

“Says the Imperial who can’t do anything but talk," I cut.

He frowned, and I gave up on him, turning to see if there was anything else I could do.

*


I didn't even notice how I ended up in the corner, with a troll approaching and my conjured familiars seeming weaker than usual. I couldn't help thinking of my family, and the way I acted as they questioned my decision of leaving to hunt adventures. Perhaps you are too young. Perhaps you aren't as strong as you think. Perhaps you don't have a clue about the real world. I blinked as a flame thrall appeared out of nowhere, assisting my familiars and getting the troll away from me again. I sighed silently and turned, to find the Breton grinning at me again.

"...Thank you," I muttered. She shrugged.

"So, will you teach me?" I kept silent, frowning a bit. Are you actually serious..? "How to conjure flaming familiars. Would you teach me?"

I never taught magic. I learn magic. I don't care if and how other people learn it. "You seem to be quite good at conjuration yourself," I said, nodding at where the thrall stood. She smiled a little.

"But I can't do what you can, and I'd like to. She took a step closer. "I could teach you something in return, if you wish."

I just stood there, looking at her for a long moment. From what I've heard earlier, from the way they spoke of the gods of my family and from the looks they gave me, I figured I couldn't really count on being friends with the rest of the group. But this girl approached me - and she was interested in magic, which was something I more often than not didn't doubt. I shrugged.

"Alright.."

"It looks so great. When did you learn it? Is it hard? When can you teach me?"

"It's not particularly easy," I said quickly as she stopped to take a breath. "I was taught most of my magic by my parents..and I don't know how much time for teaching and learning will this mission leave us, so--"

"What do you think about the mission?"

I was silent for a second, not quite sure if I'd get interrupted when I'd start talking again. I wasn't quite sure what to tell her either. Did she know, could she guess, that I wasn't really fond of fighting the Daedra? "It's..an honour to be part of it."

"Mhm..but what do you think about it?" For some reason, she even started to seem more likable than annoying. I smiled a bit.

"What do you think about it?"
***

Ki’Tzung

We had survived the onslaught of frost trolls, their bloodstained and burnt corpses laying, defeated, on the crisp, white snow. We had all survived, some more affected than others; the Imperial had been winded by his attempt to prove himself, and the Orc assisted with removing it- he seemed greatly fatigued. I had coped rather well, my limits were something I had learned, and I always made sure I alternated between defensive and offensive tactics to make the most of my energy.
It appeared that some of my allies were becoming acquainted and friendly, while others were damn-near hostile, especially the Orc, who believed himself to be the best friend of Malacath, just because he wielded a sacred hammer (which truly was dwemer, the same origin of my own artefact).

Regardless, some of us were resting, trying to catch our breath and restore what stamina was replenishable in the moment. We have no time for this, I thought. If another group of trolls, or wraiths for that matter, turn up, we might as well just jump from the cliffs of this mountain. “Ki’Tzung thinks we should move swiftly,” I said to the others, “it would be unwise to remain where we are, since any other denizens of this frozen peak could pick us all off at any time.” I was quite insistent on the matter, I even pulled the Imperial from his breathless seat that the Orc had put him in.
“He’s right,” said finally the Redguard. “There are more than just trolls on this mountain; wraiths, wolves and sabre cats are known to stalk prey up the Throat of the World also.”
Many nodded in understanding, and started to gather their things and start moving to catch up with the grumpy, green Orsimer. Sorek and I made sure everyone had gone ahead of us, and kept watch as to what might approach from behind us as we descended down the seven-thousand steps to the town of Ivarstead.

“So, being close to Nocturnal, you must have been a member of the thieves guild? Stealing must be a major skill of yours,” I inquired with sincere interest.

“No less, a Nightingale,” he replied, indifferently.

“Ah, so you genuinely obtained that armour, instead of looting an unlucky burglar. You and I are of two different worlds- a thief and an entrepreneur. It is arguable as to which requires more effort.” I continued as we started down the mountain.

Sorek

The Khajit was amusing, I'll give him that, I thought as we made the long journey down the Throat of the World. A name, now that I thought about it, suited this mountain perfectly. However, despite our victory against the frost trolls, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and instinctively looked around. Seeing nothing that could raise cause for alarm, I decided to focus on the task at hand. Ivarstead...a little town, if it could be called that. The people there, from what I had heard, were not happy to live there, due to how boring it was. Yet, I had heard that Sabre Cats and the normal kind of trolls had made nests near there. I made a mental note to avoid both of those creatures if at all possible, especially in our tired state. It was only Moghakh that didn't appear to be fatigued but then, the Orc was used to this sorta stuff and I swear he rejuvenates using the blood of enemies. I wouldn't be surprised. I let my mind think about the groups relationship with me. The Khajit seemed indifferent and it is easy to see what he fights for. Moghakh, I knew, would not betray, no matter the circumstances and if this was to be a suicide mission, I would rather die with no one else. However, the rest of the group, especially the Altmer, have only regarded me with suspicion and I wondered what I would have to do to gain their trust.

7000 steps...6500 more to go, more or less.

Aeril

I walked as far away as I could from the rest of the party. Some were chatting and laughing, acting like they hadn't just been called upon to save our world. Others brooded silently. Maybe they understood the true magnitude of what Auriel had asked us to do. And the honor he gave us. "Auriel, grant me guidance in serving your will," I murmured, the familiar words sliding easily off my tongue.

"You're very devoted to your god," the Redguard said, meeting my eyes.

The perfect opening for a question we both knew I would ask. "Yes. Are you?"

"I'm no traitor, if that's what you're wondering. I'm not a Nightingale anymore, and I won't slit your throat while you sleep. Nocturnal's angry with me." He grinned slightly. "I know my word won't be enough to make you trust me, but hopefully my actions will be."

"I only serve Auriel. It is his job to judge, not mine," I reply, the ritual words feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"Yet you judge anyway." It wasn't a question.

My mind flashed back to the pirates I had killed defending my home. "It is my hope that the actions of my blade and my magic follow Auriel's wish, but if they do not, I will be judged by him when I die. He does not begrudge unkind feelings if they are not acted upon."

The Redguard raised an eyebrow at that, but thankfully made no comment.