5: Overwhelming

The Ayleid ruin was a short walk from the beach I had been resting on. I crossed the river at the nearby ford, and proceeded with my hands at the ready. I was not going to be caught off guard again! The zombie in the prison and the bandit had both caught me unprepared, and I could not let that happen again. I saw a small bonfire a short distance from the ruin, as well as a tent and some stools around the fire.

“Where’s Farrader?” I heard the voice and pushed myself behind some bushes. “Didn’t he go off somewhere a while ago?” The voice was gruff and commanding, and by the gravelly tone I could tell it came from a Dunmer.

“Dunno. Think he went crab huntin” This voice was saturated in a tone of absolute stupidity. I wasn’t entirely surprised, because bandits are not known for their intelligence, but it sounded like an Imperial. They are not known for being dense and dimwitted. Still, I suppose some Bretons can be rather empty in the attic.

”Well… Go find him!”

“Yes sir.” At this point I took a quick peek over the rock, and saw a large figure lumber over to the water and combing the beach. The Dunmer turned and walked back into the ruins, but I couldn’t see if he entered the actual structure or simply went to guard the entrance.

I quietly made my way towards the big oaf. He was kicking sullenly at the sand and grumbling to himself. With each kick at the sand I made my way closer to him. I could not allow him to start yelling and alert the other bandits, so I reached up and grabbed his unprotected head. One freezing burst was all it took to solidify his simple little mind, and I slowed his crumpling body by catching his arms. He was carrying a huge warhammer and bits of fur armor, but nothing else was worth my attention. Instead, I moved towards the path that the Dunmer had taken.

He was sitting next to the door and absent mindedly shooting sparks from his hand. Dunmer are naturally skilled at destruction magic, but this one did not look like a mage. He was wearing scraps of fur armor similar to the oaf’s, but he also carried a shiny steel mace. I glanced at the rusty chunk of metal that hung at my waist, and pulled it from my side. I used the same trick I had used on the oaf, but I timed my steps with his bursts of electricity instead. My mace descended on his head with a great amount of force, and his head was not left in good condition afterwards.

I left my old mace lodged in the bandit’s cranium, and pulled the steel mace from his side. It was very nicely balanced, and I did I mental flip of joy. Then I remembered that I had killed three people in the last twenty-four hours, and my mind stopped flipping. I sighed with regret. It’s not that I was sad that I had killed bandits, but rather that I hadn’t noticed until now. I started to feel sick, but forced the thought out of my mind. I looked through the rest of the Dunmer’s possessions, and found a few potions and lockpicks, as well as a small sack filled with gold. It looked to be about 80 or so septims, but I didn’t stop to check it.

The doors to Ayleid ruins are opened by laying a hand on the circle in the center. I did this and watched as the two halves of the door slid away from each other. It was dark inside, so I lit my torch and headed down the now-illuminated steps. As I suspected, the ruins were inhabited by more bandits, and I was greeted by a Redguard wielding another warhammer.

My first fireball went over the head of the warrior, and he yelled and swung his hammer at me. The steps shattered as I dodged to the side, and my feet nearly slipped off. I was able to use the momentum of the sliding rocks to propel myself towards the warrior and grip his throat. I was about to freeze his throat when his arm came up and pushed my hands off. I tumbled down the last few stairs and rolled to a stop. The warrior yelled something at me and jumped at me with his bare hands. As he came at me, I brought my hand around and slapped him in the face. It would have been a weak effort had I not released my spell at the moment of contact. He screamed as his face locked up, but he continued to punch at me! I brought my fist around this time, and parts of his face broke off as I punched him. His adrenaline carried him still, and I could feel my ribs shatter as his fists worked their gruesome task. I feebly brought my hand to his chest and was able to let loose a burst of frost that finally stopped his heart. I gasped for breath, and downed one of the healing potions I kept at my side.

My ribs slowly reassembled themselves, but I could still feel the pain, so I drained another flask of healing potion. My muscles ached as well, so I drank one of my homemade restorative potions and felt my stamina return. So far my life out of prison had been very bad on my body, but thanks to magic I was able to stand up before the next two bandits arrived.

There was a woman this time, another Dunmer, and she was brandishing a shortsword at me as she bounded up the steps. Behind her was a man in an iron breastplate who had a longsword made of fine steel, also a Dunmer. The woman tripped on something, and a huge spiky log swung down towards her. The man was a few steps behind her, and it appeared that the trap was aimed at someone going down the stairs, as it swung more towards the man at the bottom of the steps instead of where the woman lay. He was unaware of the triggered trap that was now descending on him, and it hit him square in the chest, flinging him into the wall and either killing or knocking him out. The woman picked herself up and launched at me. I caught her in the chest with an uppercut from my mace, and she was staggered. The follow up blast of fire from my left hand finished her off.

I searched her pockets and came up with a few coins and a note from another bandit. I knew it was another bandit because it was sloppily written and had poor grammar. I took one glance at it and realized it was a love note. I didn’t particularly care about bandit love, so I stuffed it back in her pocket. She had been carrying a nice sword, so I slid it into its scabbard and into my pack.

The man who had been hit by the trap was not in good shape. He wasn’t dead, but he was definitely close. His lungs had been punctured by his ribs, and his breath was a soft wheeze. He drew in the biggest breath he could manage and gasped out one word. “please…” He managed to point a hand at my weapon, and I immeadiately got the message. I reached over and closed his eyes, and the burst of frost from my hand gave him the release he sought for. I sighed and turned away from him. Nothing he had on him would have survived the impact, but I took his pouch of gold. It was larger than that of the entrance guard, and judging by his fine weapon and large amount of gold, I took him to be the ringleader of the bandits.

I’m sorry, all this death has put me off of writing right now. I’ll continue later when I have regained my wits and my strength. The rest of the ruin was no push over, and I’m exhausted. Still, the moon will provide some comfort to me.