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The humidity condenses against the cool stone of the cave, soft golden torchlight flickering and glistening against the dark rock. A head of unkempt platinum hair seems to glow with blued hues in the dim light atop a head that bobs as a soft whispering and giggle slips from its thin, ragged Breton owner. Despite the grime and sweat plastering her porcelain skin, there is an ethereal beauty and innocence that seems to glow and penetrate the grime even in her dire state. She sits at the base of a tall iron beam driven deep into the ground, her hands chained behind her through a thick eyelet near the bottom. "No, no no NO. That'd be silly, it wouldn't work again. They all know. They ALL know that one. I'm not sure what else--...Hmm...I mean that could be fun but I'm not sure--NO, that's gonna give it away! Shhh, you're getting loud! You'll wake it up ag--" Her soft murmurs cease. A moment later, a distant sound of footfalls grows nearer and the girl suddenly slumps and begins to cry quietly, begging in a meek voice. A nervous-looking young Bosmer enters the wide open space, stopping to adjust his grip on the bag he carries in one hand--the other in a trembling grip on a dagger. "Oh! You're not that sc--Erm...Hi, j-just food! Don't worry! I'm not gonna try anything!" He giggles in relief as the tension evaporates from his body. He'd never been allowed to see the captive. Nobody was allowed to enter the rear cavern where she was being held without at least one other trusted guard, and even then only those who'd proven most bloodthirsty and loyal. Today, however, there'd been a bustle in the bandit camp. Rumors that they may have found a buyer for their rather troublesome long-term ransom. The bandits were divided, some relieved at the prospect of being rid of the girl while others grew immediately anxious from rumors that the buyer had figured out where the ransom was being held and that they had little intent on paying the ransom--despite the cost having continually dropped as they grew more desperate to be rid of the captive. With all the commotion, Woden realized that nobody had fed the girl in some time and despite the warnings and rumors he'd been told about her it seemed like a rather harmless thing to do. It might even show the others that the fledgling bandit had some initiative, maybe even earn him some respect he'd long been denied. Besides, for all the talk of trouble the girl had caused, she was after all just a girl shackled to a post. What's the worst that she could possibly do? They didn't even bother to keep their blades with them--surely even alone he'd be more than capable of managing a small, starved and shackled prisoner. "P-please...I-I'm sorry, whatever I did...I d-didn't mean to! I'll be Good, please--" she pleads for a moment before lifting her head and seeing a new face. A face not wrenched in anger but softened with relief. A face not accompanied by any other. Alone. Friendly, even. Her cries stop suddenly with a sniff as the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "Oh--You're new here aren't you? I--" She wiggles to sit more upright as her expression shifts sharply to a soft smile, "I'm Aedrienne, b-but my friends call me Aedrie. Y-you can call me whatever you like, though." Her voice trembles with...fear? Anticipation? Hunger? Her icy pale eyes focus on the contents of the bosmer's hands. She was going to have a chance to be fed at last. To clear the fog shrouding her thoughts. Woden chuckles, holding up the bag that the icy eyes don't follow. "Heh, yep! I realized nobody came down to feed ya! Figured you're worth more alive than dead, eh? I'm Wod-...uhh...I-I mean just W. No names. Not supposed to even talk to you..." He sheathes his dagger and opens the bag to produce some wilting greens and squishy tomatoes. The steely gaze locks eyes with Woden in a wide smile as Aedrie's breath quickens. "Wow! Th-thank you W! I knew you looked like a Good person! You'll make them real proud, I promise! Last time this happened they--well...somebody got in trouble is all..." Her face darkens briefly before returning to her bright smile. "Hey, you've eaten, right? Please don't tell me you're giving me your food! I don't wanna eat your food, that's supposed to be for you!" Woden blinks in surprise as he looks down at the vegetables in his hand that were indeed from his daily rations. He had intended on only giving her a small portion that looked ready to spoil, but the unexpected kind gesture caught him entirely off guard. The captive that he'd heard wailing for weeks in terror was now looking out for his well-being more than any of his superiors. "Gods, you're...uhh...N-nah, I've got enough! They feed us plenty here, really." His stomach twists and spasms in protest of the lie. He looks at the food, suddenly unsure of his decision. Aedrie giggles and nods, "Okay, I trust you! Hey, you wanna sit and eat with me? They've been making me eat off the floor like some gross animal, and it'd be nice to have a friend to eat with for once." Woden snaps back to reality to meet the icy gaze, following it as she looks at the ground beside her. "Eat with--" he pauses, "--I...I dunno, I'm really not supposed to--" "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry!" Aedrie says in a small, wavering voice. "N-no, don't worry. J-just toss it on the ground and I'll--" "Whoa, no I didn't mean...I just..." Woden says, eyes wide as his stomach wrenches for an entirely different reason. "I'll...I'll eat with you!" He plops down hurriedly next to her, an awful sensation filling him as he recalls being shunned by the others after joining. Being made to eat scraps and leftovers at the 'scrub table' where all the unproven recruits sit on straw mats and eat off old rotting crates. He places the vegetables on Aedrie's lap then produces a rather palatable pair of apples for himself...then hesitates and swaps the old tomato for one of the apples. "I don't think you probably get many apples down here, do you?" He asks. Aedrie looks up at him with teary eyes and wistful smile. "I haven't had an apple in...in..." The tears start to flow as she leans into him. Woden freezes in panic, but cautiously reaches up to pat her shimmering hair. "Erm...there there? Uhh...n-no, don't do that, don't cry, erm..." "It's just...n-nobody wants to be my friend here and all I really want is to have a friend! I don't even care anymore about getting out of here I just--" With a sniffle and nuzzle against his neck, she composes her voice, "C-could...I please feed myself? I just want to feel normal for once..." Woden tenses in fright at the request. If anybody heard her sobs and decided to check on her to find he'd released her hands he'd surely be flayed alive. "I don't think I can--" he's interrupted as Aedrie starts to sob louder. He panics, "N-no! Shhh...Please don't--" If somebody walked in now to find her snuggled up against him alone...he put down his food and quickly began to fumble at his pouch. "--Shh! Just...Just wait, hold on! No, be quiet!" There's a sound of rusty metal sliding against metal as he turns the key and frees Aedrie's hands. "A-alright, no sudden movements or I'll--" Suddenly indeed he was enveloped in a warm hug from the Breton. "W-wait, stop that right now! Just eat your--" The hug grows warmer and warmer as her hands glow a soft blue and stroke along his back. A calm womanly voice, tinted with an imperial accent comes from the girl, "Shhh, Woden. It's alright...We're just sitting here eating, love. That's all. Then right back into the shackles with me, I swear..." "Okay, but you can't be--W-wait how'd you know my name's--" "Shhh...Everything is alright. Just a quick lunch with a friend..." The hug gets warmer and a sudden, intoxicating calmness fills the Bosmer's mind. "R-right...yeah...just a quick lunch...yeah..." Woden looks down drowsily at his wilted cabbage and squishy tomato, taking a bite of the bitter vegetables that are barely palatable. He sways slightly as he looks up to Aedrie with a dopey smile as she hungrily bites into one apple then the second that was until now in Woden's hands, plucking more of the food from his bag. Woden blinks in confusion, but nods "Yeah...been a while since they fed you hasn't it? I guess since you haven't had any apples in so long, only makes sense you should have both of 'em...See I ain't such a bad guy, right?" Aedrie nods distractedly as she devours the choicest bits of food in his bag, her voice now flat and steely, "Yeah, you've been a great friend. Now just keep being a nice friend, I'm gonna take this..." There's a soft sound of metal on leather as his sheath twitches. Woden feels a rising anxiety deep within him, but he's not quite sure why he feels suddenly uneasy as he looks at Aedrie holding the dagger. "I'm gonna borrow this for just a moment, Woden. That's okay isn't it?" She grips the dagger with a nod as her eyes lock with his. "I dunno, I don't think I should give that to you...H-hey, wait don't do th--Hey!" The anxiety rises within him and begins to overpower the cloudiness as the dagger cuts across skin and blood begins to flow...but not his own. Bright red blood dribbles slowly along Aedrie's lily-white wrist and before Woden realizes what's happening, her eyes flutter with a deep breath. "Ahhh...better...so much clearer now...thank you Woden." She smiles sweetly as her bubbly voice returns, her eyes focused sharply on his with a focus that was until now absent. The dagger finds its way into Woden's sheath just as he drops his food to reach for it. Her arms are around his neck again as she half-hugs, half-restrains the Bosmer. "Shhh..." Aedrie mimics his earlier shushing as she leans into his ear and whispers, "They'll be super angry if they find out about this...we'll both be in soooo much trouble!" Aedrie giggles, and Woden's squirming protest freezes abruptly as he looks to the entryway with fear filling his wide eyes and withering the last of Aedrie's calming spell. "So Woden, looks like you need a friend to help keep you safe, and that's what Aedrie's here for!" She coos softly into his ear as he begins to sweat with a nod. "Now it'd be real Bad if we just tried to walk on out of here, so here's how you're gonna help your new friend. You're gonna lock me back up like nothing ever happened, then you're gonna find this super nice lady who'll make you niiice and rich..."

(Re-reading this post, I'm not quite proud of it, nor content about it, I feel as if I failed to present the cynicism felt by Demlas and the three bandits properly, as well as being a bit too long-winded, alas, any feedback would be greatly appreciated.) More than a few days had passed since Demlas had accepted the contract posted by Angela, in which he said he would bring her two barrels of Skeever hides. The number of times he rubbed his neck during these few days caused quite a bit of chafing and some nasty rashes, a constant reminder of his inaction and procrastination. Finally having enough of his idleness, Demlas jumped on a boat by the docks of The Bastion and made his way to Bravil's inn, 'Silverhome on the Water.' There, he met with a Breton he had befriended during his travels; there was a plethora of differences between the two, the self-described 'Manmeri' was quite exuberant, eccentric, and egomaniacal, but despite their differences, they managed to become close friends quickly. Daranold spent a good few minutes laughing at Demlas' undertaking, which left him coughing and having to clean tears from his eyes. Though the Redguard was frowning the entire time, he couldn't help but chuckle slightly as he saw his Breton friend enjoy his predicament. After the Breton had enough, he suggested Demlas made his way further to the north, as Skeevers were far more common around Skyrim than in Cyrodiil, and as a way to apologize for his mocking, Daranold sent him to the Mages guild so that he could be teleported to Falkreath, as well as giving him the location of a few ruins that he remembered being plagued by Skeevers. Without any more hesitation or dillydallying, Demlas went to these ruins, he had already prepared himself with dozens upon dozens of bolts for his crossbow and had bought some poison for his saber, perhaps the only thing he hadn't prepared was his psyché for what was to come, but it was far too late to worry about that. Taking a deep breath, he entered the Nordic ruins, unsheathing his weapon and lighting his torch. The first room of the ruins was nigh empty, with just a few skeletons littering the floor Demlas managed to take note of the lack of spiderwebs around these skeletons as if they had been disturbed not long ago. Lighting a few of the torches on the nearby walls, he continued pushing forward, he could already hear the skittering of the different beings waiting for him in the further chambers of the ruins. He sheathed his saber and prepared his crossbow instead, then, he threw his torch inside the next room, the moment it hit the ground, what seemed to be an entire swarm of Skeevers started running around, once he saw them, he shot at the closest one, landing a clean hit, he didn't bother cocking the crossbow completely, and loaded it as quickly as possible to kill a few more before they scurried away. Once the Skeevers were gone, Demlas managed to notice what had caused them to gather around, the dead body of a Nord was proving to be quite the feast for the creatures, approaching it carefully, Demlas noticed he had been killed recently, examining the body, other than dozens of Skeever bites, he found one single wound on the back of his head, caused by a blunt object, possibly killing him instantly, he looked through the Nord's possessions but found nothing, after some thinking, Demlas carefully picked the dead body up and placed him against a wall, just to make sure he wouldn't stumble on the dead body if he had to make his way out of the ruins quickly. His interest in finding out the truth of the scene took over gathering the Skeever hides, he pushed forward, and the next few rooms were empty except for a few occasional Skeever which he managed to kill without any issues. Finally, he stumbled upon another dead body, yet another Nord, this time, a woman wearing heavy armor without a helmet, and an Iron Warhammer next to her body, her armor kept her protected from Skeevers, after inspecting the dead body, he found one single deep wound, on the side of the woman's neck. The blood stains on the floor and the woman's gauntlets led him to believe the wound wasn't fatal, and she instead bled to death. Gulping down dryly, Demlas closed the woman's eyes and pushed forward, he could only guess what had happened, but wanted to find the truth behind the situation, and thus, he pushed forward, reaching the deepest chamber in the ruins. This chamber was the main burial site of the ruins, there were a few sarcophagi around the room, all of which had been looted and desecrated, the Redguard couldn't help but raise his upper lip in utter disgust. An Imperial man was sitting against one of the open sarcophagi, panting and holding a sword in one hand, and a dagger in the other one, both stained with blood, next to him, three dead Draugr and quite a few dead Skeevers that had tried to take him down. Seeing as how the man was injured and couldn't move much, Demlas readied his crossbow and aimed at him. The Imperial dropped his weapons and raised his hands, as much as he could in his condition, that is. "Wait, wait! Don't shoot me damn it! These things killed all of my friends, but I can still make it out alive, I'll even let you take most of the loot I have!" The Imperial's voice was faltering as he begged for his life, Demlas simply stared at him, frowning. "Tell me what happened to the other two, I have never seen someone get stabbed in the neck by Draugr." Demlas said, still aiming at the Imperial. A few seconds of silence went by as the two stared each other down, swallowing dryly, the Imperial spoke up. "I... Biro and I were married, the Nord woman you saw. We came here with her brother to explore these ruins, that's what we told him at least-" He coughs, trying to sit up, but failing to do so. "We were planning on killing him all along, she was the one to come up with the idea, to kill her brother and blame it on a Draugr, just so that she would be the sole inheritor of her parents' money and properties." A non-sensical thread of lies spun in hopes of appealing to the Redguard's emotions, one that only a compulsive liar could come up with. Demlas moved closer, still aiming at the man, he thought about what the Imperial was saying, remembering the bodies, he didn't think either of them looked alike, nor did the Nord woman wear an Amulet of Mara "Why kill her then?" The Imperial looked at the dagger that was next to him and shook his head. "My wife killed her brother because of her greed, I... I was worried she would kill me if I gave her the chance as well." He muttered, to Demlas, he was just lying through his teeth, and unwilling to hear any more lies from the Imperial, he took a step forward, and a deep breath, and shot the man on the head to at the very least grant him a quick death. The Redguard looked at the scene once more and shook his head, disgusted by a situation he did not even understand completely, the mystery he wished to discover and solve was still a mystery, one shrouded by lies and betrayal, he walked up to the Imperial man, gathered the dead Skeevers nearby and started walking outside, picking all the dead Skeevers on his way out. Once outside, he made it to a nearby forest where he skinned the animals, the task was gruesome, but his mind was preoccupied with the dead inside the ruins. Despite the number of rats he killed, everything he saw and heard was starting to make him question his usual anthropocentric values, the repetitive task of skinning the animals was mind-numbing enough to make him stop thinking about the betrayal, he wasn't affected by it after all, nor did he understand it completely, so why bother trying to figure out what happened? He thought as much. Once he had two barrelfuls of Skeever hides, he had someone teleport him back to Bravil so that he may deliver them to Angela. After delivering the two barrels, Demlas spent some time looking at his hands, he felt disgusted at himself, at those he saw in the ruins, and at men overall, taking his clothes off, he took a dip in the lake to wash away the filth, and though he managed to rid himself of the somatic grime, his psyché was still riddled with it.

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