U.O.T.W. Chapter 116 The Loudest Of Whispers

  • Vilkas’s group which consisted of Sotek and himself, were making their way along a brightly lit passageway. Various burning torches lit the corridor, showing every nook and cranny in the rock face. As did his siblings, try as he might, Vilkas couldn’t work out what they were doing there.

    “Ermm, Sotek? This is a trap, yes?”

    Sotek nodded enthusiastically which made Vilkas feel somewhat disturbed by his apparent lack of concern.

    “Oh definitely”.

    Vilkas nodded as if he understood but it quickly became apparent that he didn’t understand or even agree to the plan.

    “Good... good..... Damn it! Then why are we here? Walking into it?”

    “What’s the point of its existence if we don’t?” As Sotek spoke, his voice was composed and unruffled. The usual calmness when they were in the thick of it. Vilkas couldn’t help but notice the more tranquil Sotek’s voice was then the worse the situation. Sotek was as calm as a lake, leaving Vilkas feeling more than a little agitated.

    “I wonder how the others are getting on?” He asked as he glanced over his shoulder towards the exit.

    Sotek’s tail flapped about and whacked against the passage wall. A loud spiteful ‘hsss’ caused Vilkas to turn around to find Sotek glaring back at him.

    “The others are fine. I admit I’m not entirely sure with Aela, she seems distracted but Farkas will see she’s ok. I know none of you are happy with this, but here we are”.

    Vilkas thought back to when they were ‘rescuing’ Aela from Sheogorath’s strange volcanic domain. Sotek seemed just as confident now as he did back then. Vilkas just wished he knew why.

    “Ok, there’s no Daedra here. Please tell me why you’re so sure of yourself”.

    Sotek’s mind fell blank as he tried to work out what Daedra had to do with anything. The memory which flooded Vilkas’s mind didn’t dawn on Sotek at all. All he could do was blink back at his sibling.

    “Daedra? What in all of... Look, I’ve got my werewolf form, see? They haven’t seen it”. As Sotek spoke he smiled.

    Vilkas sarcastically laughed at him then his face clouded over with the seriousness of the situation.

    “I have! Now I’m sorry but he’s not much to look at. He’s short, white, weak”.

    Sotek briefly chuckled at the mental picture of Omega and nodded.

    “Yes, he’s not one of the greatest werewolves of the era. I’d wager they underestimate him badly though”.

    Vilkas shrugged his shoulders in amusement along with a slight shake of his head. He hid his face behind his hand as he sniggered back.

    “So, you’re happy we are all going into a trap because you expect them to laugh at the troll so much we can just kill them with minimal resistance? Well he’s small enough, so it might just work”.

    Now it was Sotek's turn to groan, for he knew a certain member hated the word 'troll' and he feared for his companions' well being.

    “Something like that, but do you have to keep calling him a ‘troll’? You know Aela don’t like it”.

    Vilkas dismissed Sotek’s words of wisdom and carried on regardless.

    “Well we would call him something else, but there’s nothing smaller than a troll we can think of. Sorry I shouldn’t rip into you, ermm it, oh hell, him”.

    Sotek just laughed as he pointed to Vilkas’s groin. His next sentence brought the conversation to a halt.

    “I’m not bothered, just go easy when Aela’s around. You never know, you might want kids one day. If you upset her too much, that won’t happen”.

    Vilkas cringed and subconsciously protected his ‘vital area’ with his hands.

    “Now that isn’t funny! It really hurt!!”

    They followed the corridor to a doorway. Vilkas rested his hand on a seemingly rickety wooden ‘gate’ which consisted of nothing more than various planks nailed together. Despite the construction of the door, it proved to be sturdy and any possible peep holes were filled in. He was about to push it forwards when an idea occurred to him. He whispered to Sotek so he wouldn’t inadvertently alert anyone around.

    “Use your Aura shout. See what’s on the other side”.

    Sotek’s face was a picture of genuine surprise. He blankly stared at the door as his eyebrows slowly rose up towards his temple causing the miniature spikes above his eyes to point skywards. He drew a deep breath then shouted out in a hushed whisper.

    “Laas Yah”.

    Vilkas smirked at the effort Sotek put into that particular shout and yet he could hardly hear it above his own breathing. Sotek however was now preoccupied. He was busy watching the aura of a single person who lay in the next room beyond the door. He signalled to Vilkas regarding the opposing number and then drew his axe in preparation of the oncoming fight.

    The Nord Companion slowly opened the door and stealthily entered the room. The single Silverhand, an Imperial who had the bearing of a soldier, was standing there warming himself by a fire with his back to the doorway. Vilkas’s greatsword swung downwards in a cleaving arc of death. He was right on target despite closing his eyes due to the spray of blood as his sword smashed its way through the collar bone. As for the Silverhand, the rapid loss of blood proved fatal.

    The silver sword found itself belonging to a new owner who happened to go by the name of Vilkas. He wiped off the edge of the sword with a piece of old linen which was tucked in his armor and examined the single handed blade.

    “Should be worth a few flasks of mead when we get back”.

    Sotek chuckled while he searched the corpse for anything which might catch his eye.

    “All you and Farkas think about is drink”.

    Vilkas scoffed in retaliation but all he succeeded in doing was burying himself in a hole.

    “All you and Aela think about is sex... and hunting... and the plains... Red and Omega... Aww shut up”

    Leaving Sotek behind in fits of laughter, Vilkas grudgingly proceeded along the new corridor. They soon came across two more doors but these were positioned opposite each other. Sotek could see the red glow of someone behind the door on the left as his aura shout was still taking effect. Leaving Vilkas to tackle the unknown opponent, Sotek’s attention was given to the door on the right.

    It opened easily allowing him access to the sleeping quarters. Two rows of beds were lined up in a long yet wide room which was cut into the rock. Each of the beds had their own cabinet beside them. It was at this time that something occurred to him. If the village of Forsworn had indeed been overtaken by Silverhands to trap the Companions, then they wouldn’t have had time or the capacity to transport so much furniture.

    The only possible conclusion was that the ‘village’ was always run by Silverhands. He pondered on the prospect of the Silverhands working alongside the Forsworn. If that was the case then it meant there were yet more enemies to stand against him and his pack, the Companions.

    Knowing Vilkas was more than capable of looking after himself, Sotek took his time to examine the room and slowly walked alongside each and every bed in the search for proof that both groups had indeed joined forces. The only clue he could find was an old wardrobe left in the corner to rot. Inside, he found various bone weapons, knifes and swords. Each one was made of animal and human bones and every blade looked crude yet lethal. Sharp razor like spikes protruded along each blade and even the few axes had similar teeth worked into the axe heads and the clubs looked no different. If the Forsworn used the daggers for skinning, then Sotek presumed the furs collected would be rough and crudely cut. Each and every fur laid out on the beds was in near perfect condition.

    Finding himself in a dead end, Sotek turned around and left the room with more questions than answers.

    Vilkas loosely held the hilt of his sword and rested the blade over his shoulder like a lumberjack would with an axe. He drew a deep breath then boldly pushed open the door and stepped beyond, knowing full well someone was on the other side of the doorway.

    Unsurprisingly, for Vilkas at least, he found himself staring straight in the face of a Silverhand. His opponent was a young Nord lad who was barely out of his teens. He held two one handed axes or at least he would have had he secured them in their scabbards. Instead the weapons rested on a table top several feet away.

    The boy’s jaw dropped wide open as he stared blankly at the intruder. For several seconds the room fell silent as they both watched for their opposite number to make a move. The Silverhand glanced across at the table then back at Vilkas who slowly shook his head, forewarning the lad of his possible foolish actions.

    Vilkas’s pleas fell on deaf ears and the boy dashed across the floor. Vilkas reacted in seconds and kicked out at the table, sending it toppling over and crashing on the floor. The two axes fell to the wayside leaving the Nord with nothing to fight back with.

    “Don’t be foolish boy. Your death would be meaningless”.

    The lad stared back in fear and stammered as he drew a silver dagger.

    “Bett...er, better dea..d than damned”.

    Vilkas pointed his bloody great cleaving blade at the boy’s chest and walked forwards, pushing the Nord backwards by the tip of his sword. The dagger dropped to the floor when the Nord found himself pinned with his back to the wall. Vilkas walked right up to the boy then heard a strange dripping sound. He looked towards the floor while keeping his eyes on the young man which was simple to do as Vilkas towered over his opponent. A puddle of urine formed around the lad’s boots and seemed to get bigger with every second. Vilkas looked into the eyes of fear itself and head butted the Silverhand right in the temple.

    The boy fell to the floor unconscious laying in his own piss when a second Silverhand entered from the far corridor and joined the fray. This man was much older and armed with a sword which he had no qualms in using. The weapon was thrust towards Vilkas as the adversary charged forwards.

    Vilkas blocked the blow easily, a little too easily as it happened. He was too preoccupied with the sword and failed to see the man pull a dagger from his belt. The moment Vilkas twisted around to deflect the initial strike; the Silverhand stabbed him in the arm, causing his hand to release its hold.

    Pain gripped Vilkas’s arm like a vice as the silver burned his flesh. He staggered backwards while he tried to lift up his sword with the one hand, a feat which he would usually find easy but he felt weak and disorientated. Upon seeing his moment of weakness, the Silverhand saw an advantage and was quick to take it, despite the fact that he had now lost his dagger as it was buried deep in Vilkas’s arm.

    He brought his sword down upon the Companion who used his injured arm to hold the man’s hand, preventing the blade from continuing on its journey. The Silverhand applied even more pressure by using his other hand to force the weapon towards Vilkas.

    Vilkas’s own strength was failing, he could feel the sword drawing ever closer to him while his opponent’s eyes seemed wild and crazed like he was enjoying the power over his foe.

    Vilkas grabbed the dagger with his good hand and ripped it out of his arm. He fell backwards pulling the man on top of him as he thrust the dagger upwards into the Silverhand’s gut.

    The eyes which seemed so certain, so eager for a kill, changed to those of confusion and disbelief. He had won, he was the victor, yet his stomach burned like fire as his own weight was used against him, forcing the dagger deeper inside his stomach up to the hilt.

    Vilkas whispered in his ear then unceremoniously shoved him off to the side.

    “Better to be damned than dead!”

    The Silverhand rolled on his back, causing him to groan loudly. He clutched the dagger with one hand and watched with a morbid fascination over his own demise as blood seeped through his fingers.  Vilkas stood over him, he watched the Silverhand for a few seconds then he thought about when Aela was caged up. The werewolves they had skinned, he gave no quarter, his sword pushed deep into the ribs of the dying man before him, then he simply left and turned towards the door. 

    Sotek, who just happened to catch the final moments of the Silverhand’s demise, watched Vilkas from the doorway. He understood the emotions after all it was he who set the Flaming Familiar against the Skinner when they had captured Aela. One thing he didn’t understand though was the cause for the conflict.

    “What started this war?”

    Vilkas turned around in surprise, and found himself ensnared by Sotek’s reptilian gaze.

    “What war?”

    Sotek just sighed then entered the room and examined the boy who was still out cold. Sotek could tell he was alive and relatively untouched except the massive bruise on his forehead. 

    “This war! Us and the Silverhands, what started it?”

    Vilkas lazily shrugged and almost pitifully strolled across the room as he made his way towards the next series of passages and tunnels.

    “No idea. One day they just started hunting us, started skinning our dead. We have been fighting for survival ever since. Of course though, some of us take it more personally than others”.

    Sotek laughed a little despite the subject matter. He knew the fire which burned inside the Female Companion. He felt her fire for himself.

    “Aela! Come on, we can’t let her have all the fun”.

    As he neared Vilkas, he saw the blood on the Nord’s arm. Droplets of the red life giving liquid dripped off at the elbow causing Sotek to feel more than a little alarmed.

    “You’re hurt!”

    “It’s a scratch”. Vilkas declared as he leaned against the doorway to prop himself up.

    Sotek ignored any objections and examined the wound for himself. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to find the injury which, to Vilkas’s relief, looked clean. Sotek rested the palm of his hand against the knife wound and concentrated on his healing spell. A feint golden glow filled the room and a wave of heat surged along Vilkas’s arm, bonding and knitting the old flesh with new.

    “Soon have you patched up”. Sotek stated with a smile.

    Already he could see the color return to Vilkas’s complexion. He shoved himself off the doorway and swished his sword around in a long wide arc, signalling that he did indeed feel better for the healing spell.

    “Thanks. It’s handy, you being able to do that”.

    Sotek slyly winked at Vilkas then slightly pushed him in the back, forcing him forwards.

    “It’s handy being told when someone’s hurt. I don’t charge for the use of my healing spells you know. Let’s get moving. She’ll be pulling her hair out with worry”.

    Vilkas cackled as he corrected Sotek.

    “She’ll be pulling Farkas’s hair out you mean. We’d best save him”.

    Eagerly, they both set off along the new corridor. The far end opened up into a small cave. Thanks to the two torches in the outlying wall, Vilkas could see the silhouette of someone in the corner, lurking in the shadows. 

    “There’s someone there. I can’t tell if they are an archer”.

    Sotek’s eyelids narrowed to mere slits as he examined the flickering shadow which Vilkas pointed out. The Argonian was undecided as to whether there was actually one person in the room or a small group. He concluded it was far safer to find out than just proceed forwards with little in the way of cover.

    Summoning up magical energies, he started casting a spell. The corridor lit up in a bright celestial blue as a gate started to form. He quickly gave a few words of caution to Vilkas who just didn’t understand.

    “Get ready to run”.

    “Run towards them? Your Familiar will keep them distracted, won’t he?” Vilkas watched the Oblivion gate and awaited the Familiar which he had seen Aela play ‘fetch’ with in the yard on more than one occasion.

    The portal suddenly burst into red hot flames as a Flaming Familiar stepped outside. Sotek took three steps away from it and half turned in case he had to run. He needn’t have worried for the Familiar howled out then ran along the tunnel illuminating each side. 

    “Go get them boy!” Vilkas stated as it ran into the room. There was a desperate scream then outside the room itself, small rocks and dust dropped from the ceiling and the whole tunnel shook from the force of an explosion. The tunnel fell silent once more but this time there were no such signs of life. The two Companions slowly approached the room to find a single charred body who had suffered horrific burns on every area of bare skin.

    Sotek gingerly poked his head around the doorway and risked a peek inside the incinerated room.

    “She!”

    Vilkas just caught what Sotek had said. At least he thought he did. He ignored the charred remains and glanced back at Sotek for confirmation to what he had thought he heard.

    “Pardon?”

    “The Flaming Familiar! You said ‘go get them boy’, she is a ‘she’ not a ‘he’. Aela said so, it’s best not to argue with her, you’re in enough trouble with her as it is”.

    Vilkas chuckled in agreement as a mental image of Aela throwing one of her temper tantrums formed in his head.

    “Yea, there’s no way I’m antagonising her at the moment. Your right, best let her settle before we wind her up again”.

    Taking their minds off Aela and her ‘temper of doom’ was an easy matter for when Sotek tried the far door he found it to be locked. This gave him an idea, one which would give them both a welcome distraction. Pulling out a single lockpick, he spoke in a low hushed voice.

     “I bet you, I can open it with just the one lockpick”.

    Vilkas laughed as he moved to Sotek’s side. Greedy eyes stared down at the Argonian as a dark plan formed in the Nord’s mind.

    “Ok. Fifty gold says you can’t”.

    They both shook hands sealing the bet between them. Golden septims were rapidly counted out and placed in a pouch of light leather and laid to rest on a stone table. Sotek knelt down at the keyhole and set to work. He started to pick carefully at the lock, manipulating the levers with the skill and guile the Gray Fox himself would have been proud of. Quite unexpectedly, Vilkas budged Sotek in the shoulder, catching him off balance and sending him sprawling across the floor. The lockpick which was practically jammed in the lock at the time, snapped in three places as if it shattered.

    Picking himself up off the floor, Sotek cursed and hissed at his ‘attacker’ as he brushed off all the dust.

    “Hey! That’s cheating… Hsss”.

    Vilkas was ready with his excuses and backed them up quickly.

    “Oh really? Like all the times you and Aela tricks us out of gold”.

    Sotek tried again although this time he watched Vilkas through the corner of his eye. After a few attempts due to nervousness from Vilkas goading and walking around him in an attempt to put him off, there was a dull ‘click’.

    Not being prepared to be outsmarted by a ‘Nord’, Sotek walked over to the table and defiantly pocketed the gold. 

    “Ermm, that’s my gold” Vilkas stated. Feeling pleased with himself, he triumphantly held out his hand for his winnings.

    Sotek laughed and dismissed Vilkas’s claim while he shooed off the offending hand.

    “Nope it’ss mine fair and ssquare”.

    Vilkas stepped in front of him and blocked his path. A tap on the chest proved Vilkas was far from joking.

    “Oh no! Hand it over. You said you would open it with one lock pick”. The gold is mine!”

    Sotek rested his hand on Vilkas’s shoulder then looked at him right in the face. Vilkas became caught in the cunningness of a wolf which burned deep within the emerald green eyes. Sotek wily smiled at the Companion then simply side stepped him.

    “Oh but I did! The second one!!”

    Vilkas’s jaw dropped as he watched Sotek slink around him. The tip of the Argonian’s tail slithered past leaving him staring blankly at a wall.

    “You two are bloody crooks! Why don’t you both shove off and join the thieves’ guild? They would welcome a pair like you”.

    Sotek laughed at the thought of Red hunting through tunnels and drains.

    “They have enough problems with Skeevers running through the sewers let alone adding a pair of bloody werewolves to the mix”.

    Switching his attention back to the door, he turned the handle and pushed it open.

     

     

Comments

21 Comments
  • Ebonslayer
    Ebonslayer   ·  April 9, 2016
    I like troll better, seems like something they'd say.
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  April 9, 2016
    Fluffy.... This I can use. Cotton tail would be amusing...
    Piglet... I could this to work.
    Vilkas "Aela! Tell Fluffy to behave else we'll shave him bald".
    Farkas "It won't be troll we'll call him, it'll be Piglet".
    Aela "Hmph. Om...  more
  • A-Pocky-Hah!
    A-Pocky-Hah!   ·  April 9, 2016
    Piglet!? I don't think Omega's bald enough to be called a piglet.
    Puffball?
  • Ebonslayer
    Ebonslayer   ·  April 9, 2016
    Why would they call him that? They want to insult him.
  • Justiciar Thorien
    Justiciar Thorien   ·  April 9, 2016
    Piglet!!
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  April 9, 2016
    Precious, Bunny, Little Lamb, Piglet, Snow Bunny, Cotton Puff, Pup, Cotton tail. Lol, that was fun. :)
  • Justiciar Thorien
    Justiciar Thorien   ·  April 9, 2016
    Let's see... Fluffy? Snowball?
  • Ebonslayer
    Ebonslayer   ·  April 9, 2016
    No idea.
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  April 9, 2016
    Let's have some suggestions just for fun. (You never know I might use a few)
    What could Farkas and Vilkas call Omega to take the micky out of him?
  • Justiciar Thorien
    Justiciar Thorien   ·  April 9, 2016
    They have no imagination at all. Nords...