“What?” Liriel could swear she must be hearing things. “Look, he was trying to help us, we can't just kill him!”
Shevawna just shrugged. “He's a Nord. He's in the army even, and he sent us to the block. He'll go to Sovngarde, Nords like that. We're doing him a favour. I'll make it quick.”
“No!” Liriel hissed, getting up as Hadvar came in, shutting the door behind him, a little singed but mostly fine... for now. Definitely time to intervene before things got out of hand and the little psychopath she'd been landed with sprung into action. “Er... Hadvar, is it? Thank you for getting us this far. I'm Liriel.”
“Charmed to meet you,” Hadvar said, fleeting smile crossing his face. “I could wish it was under better circumstances. Here, let me get those off you.”
He drew his dagger and cut Liriel's hands free. Gasp of shock from Shevawna, but the young Forsworn rallied.
“Now! He's only got a knife in his hand!”
“Shevawna!” Liriel growled, making her way over and dragging the girl out of hiding, about done with wrangling short, murderous lunatics for one day, no, a lifetime. “He's helping us. Show a bit of gratitude. Hold out your hands and he'll free you.”
Shevawna looked a bit mutinous but did as asked, gasping in shock as her bonds fell free.
“He set me free!” Shevawna said, stunned. “But... why did you do that, Nord? Why not kill me?”
Hadvar slowly reached a hand to his sword, looking a bit warily at Shevawna.
“Because there's a dragon attacking?” Hadvar said slowly. “Because there's no Legionnaires or Stormcloaks when that happens, just humans trying to survive? I could use the help to get out of here and I'm guessing you don't want to die yourself.”
Even in Shevawna's twisted mind, that logic did make a certain kind of sense, and the surprise of a Nord showing her some small kindness despite the fact she was standing there in tribal Forsworn gear and purple warpaint drawn across her nose and cheeks, needing only a pair of swords and the headgear to complete the effect, did throw her sufficiently to take her mind off killing Nords.
“Not yet,” Shevawna admitted, weighing the situation up in her mind. “All right, Nord. I won't kill you today. Come on, Liriel, we should find you some proper clothes and another sword.”
“Should I be worried?” Hadvar asked, his voice low as he weighed up the wisdom of bringing this unpredictable savage with them.
“Not any more, I think you won her over a bit,” Liriel said quietly. “I'll keep an eye on her, she seems to like me.”
“You do that,” Hadvar said with a shiver, turning his back while Liriel got changed.
In the end, Liriel managed to find a set of Imperial light armour that sort of fit her, and an iron sword. Not that she really knew what she was doing with one, but her magical studies would probably suffice to drop most opponents before they got too close.
Shevawna just picked up another sword, complaining about the quality and swearing that given a bit of wood, some leather strips and a good solid rock, she could knock something better up in under an hour, but she grudgingly admitted it was also better than nothing and she didn't have time.
So off they went, and if Shevawna had to be reminded to leave the ones in red alone, and kept leaping out of the shadows to tear into any Stormcloaks they encountered, things could have been worse. It turned out Shevawna knew a bit of Destruction magic and could have grown men crying on the floor clutching melted faces in seconds. It turned out Liriel's studies hadn't gone to waste and once she'd been able to acquire a set of mage robes off a dead Nord prisoner, she abandoned her sword in favour of Destruction spells of her own, not to mention raising a few corpses along the way. Hadvar just said a quiet prayer to the Eight and turned a blind eye to all the blood. He'd seen war but not like this, not with these two burning and carving their way to freedom, and if Liriel seemed the more well-balanced of the two, Hadvar was starting to wonder if either were sane.
Re: Blood (Magic)'s Honour 1.4
Shevawna just shrugged. “He's a Nord. He's in the army even, and he sent us to the block. He'll go to Sovngarde, Nords like that. We're doing him a favour. I'll make it quick.”
“No!” Liriel hissed, getting up as Hadvar came in, shutting the door behind him, a little singed but mostly fine... for now. Definitely time to intervene before things got out of hand and the little psychopath she'd been landed with sprung into action. “Er... Hadvar, is it? Thank you for getting us this far. I'm Liriel.”
“Charmed to meet you,” Hadvar said, fleeting smile crossing his face. “I could wish it was under better circumstances. Here, let me get those off you.”
He drew his dagger and cut Liriel's hands free. Gasp of shock from Shevawna, but the young Forsworn rallied.
“Now! He's only got a knife in his hand!”
“Shevawna!” Liriel growled, making her way over and dragging the girl out of hiding, about done with wrangling short, murderous lunatics for one day, no, a lifetime. “He's helping us. Show a bit of gratitude. Hold out your hands and he'll free you.”
Shevawna looked a bit mutinous but did as asked, gasping in shock as her bonds fell free.
“He set me free!” Shevawna said, stunned. “But... why did you do that, Nord? Why not kill me?”
Hadvar slowly reached a hand to his sword, looking a bit warily at Shevawna.
“Because there's a dragon attacking?” Hadvar said slowly. “Because there's no Legionnaires or Stormcloaks when that happens, just humans trying to survive? I could use the help to get out of here and I'm guessing you don't want to die yourself.”
Even in Shevawna's twisted mind, that logic did make a certain kind of sense, and the surprise of a Nord showing her some small kindness despite the fact she was standing there in tribal Forsworn gear and purple warpaint drawn across her nose and cheeks, needing only a pair of swords and the headgear to complete the effect, did throw her sufficiently to take her mind off killing Nords.
“Not yet,” Shevawna admitted, weighing the situation up in her mind. “All right, Nord. I won't kill you today. Come on, Liriel, we should find you some proper clothes and another sword.”
“Should I be worried?” Hadvar asked, his voice low as he weighed up the wisdom of bringing this unpredictable savage with them.
“Not any more, I think you won her over a bit,” Liriel said quietly. “I'll keep an eye on her, she seems to like me.”
“You do that,” Hadvar said with a shiver, turning his back while Liriel got changed.
In the end, Liriel managed to find a set of Imperial light armour that sort of fit her, and an iron sword. Not that she really knew what she was doing with one, but her magical studies would probably suffice to drop most opponents before they got too close.
Shevawna just picked up another sword, complaining about the quality and swearing that given a bit of wood, some leather strips and a good solid rock, she could knock something better up in under an hour, but she grudgingly admitted it was also better than nothing and she didn't have time.
So off they went, and if Shevawna had to be reminded to leave the ones in red alone, and kept leaping out of the shadows to tear into any Stormcloaks they encountered, things could have been worse. It turned out Shevawna knew a bit of Destruction magic and could have grown men crying on the floor clutching melted faces in seconds. It turned out Liriel's studies hadn't gone to waste and once she'd been able to acquire a set of mage robes off a dead Nord prisoner, she abandoned her sword in favour of Destruction spells of her own, not to mention raising a few corpses along the way. Hadvar just said a quiet prayer to the Eight and turned a blind eye to all the blood. He'd seen war but not like this, not with these two burning and carving their way to freedom, and if Liriel seemed the more well-balanced of the two, Hadvar was starting to wonder if either were sane.