Skyrim Page 3 - "Either you're naked, or I'm drunk. Maybe both."

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"Nothing But Trouble" M!DB/Farkas M!DB/Vilkas 4/??

[(Anonymous)]

Farkas’s sword fell from his fingers and his armour followed as he started sprouting dark, shaggy hair, and long claws.

“Fuck,” Dyce said softly, as the Nord grew at least another foot in height, threw back a long, canine head, and howled.

Dyce stepped away as an orc was flung against the iron door. He heard his neck break. Farkas - or the beast that had been Farkas - was unstoppable. He shrugged off blows like they were the bites of gnats, and raked claws like daggers through armour and skin, swatting the attackers aside.

And then they were all dead, and silence descended. Farkas padded off, and a few moments later, the grate that was trapping Dyce winched back into the ceiling. Farkas came back into view, naked, streaked with blood, and appearing entirely human once again. Dyce didn’t lower his bow, and the tip of the arrow didn’t waver as he aimed it between Farkas’s eyes.

Farkas regarded him calmly, “Did I scare you?”

“Yeah, just a little. What in Oblivion is going on?”

“We’re granted the ferocity of a beast in battle.”

“We’re? You mean the Companions are all werewolves?”

“No, only the circle carry the beast-blood. Don’t worry. It’s supposed to be a secret, but it’s too late now.” He stood there, non-threatening, hands empty.

Dyce lowered his bow and released the tension on the string.

“Well, I suppose it was lucky then. You were pretty badly outnumbered.” Now that he wasn’t aiming a bow, Dyce allowed his gaze to wander. “You should, uh, probably put some pants on.” Damn, he was a monster even without the werewolf blood.

Farkas chuckled. Dyce stood guard while he got dressed again.

“Who were those guys anyway?” Dyce asked.

“Bad people who hate werewolves. There’ll be more of ‘em.”

And there were. Many more. And draugr too. They stumbled on through the bowels of the earth for hours. They pushed their way through a spider cave, and then they halted for something to eat.

Dyce leaned his head against the wall and yawned. “I bet it’s tomorrow already.”

“We should have a rest,” Farkas said. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“Is that safe?” Dyce asked.

Farkas nodded, “Werewolves don’t sleep well or deeply. I’ll wake up if I hear anything.”

Dyce pulled cobwebs out of his hair, while Farkas made himself comfortable, sitting against the wall, his arms around his sword. He looked at Dyce from under his hair, and then dropped his gaze a bit sadly.

Dyce sighed. “I trust you.” He moved over and rested his head on Farkas’s arm.

It wasn’t easy to sleep and Dyce didn’t manage to snatch more than a couple of hours before they decided to keep moving.

“Surely we’re near the end,” Dyce groaned.

They were near the end, and in that final chamber, a veritable army of draugr awaited them. Dyce’s jaw dropped.

“We are in trouble,” he muttered. He drew his bow. He loosed the arrows as fast as he could draw the string as the creatures stumbled to attack Farkas, who stood in front of him, absorbing most of their fury. Dyce barely took time to aim; he didn’t need to. He could be almost guaranteed of hitting a tough, leathery body.

The numbers thinned, and then the pair chased them to the far corners of the room, executing them. Dyce’s last few arrows rattled in his quiver, and Farkas was battered and dripping with sweat and blood.

“By Ysgramor, I thought there would be no end to them.”

“Yeah.” Dyce sat on a broken sarcophagus to catch his breath. “I gotta admit, Farkas, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Farkas shrugged, “You would have found a way.”

Dyce circled the room, retrieving any arrows that remained whole, and when they picked up the fragment of Wuuthrad he needed them.

“How many times do we have to kill them?” he snarled through his teeth, while he stood on a table, loosing arrows above Farkas’s head, softening the horde up as it broke over them.

When silence fell, Dyce hurried to the exit. “Hang the arrows,” he said. “I can always make more. I’m not waiting around for them to get back up again.” Farkas didn’t argue, he sheathed his sword and followed him out.