Twenty-something toasts later, it seemed, and they were running through the woods, trying not to lose each other. It was dark, darker still outside the roads, and their running was not so much a running as a very fast stumbling, stolen Stormcloak banner flapping proudly in the air as their sign of idiotic victory.
Curses and shouting and approaching bootfalls followed their trail of broken forest and stupidity, and Athis shouted back something in some language that was clearly not Nordic and also clearly incredibly filthy. Arrows and steel bolts whizzed past them, hitting the trees but miraculously none of them, it seemed. The said that Sai the Lucky looked out for the drunks, after all.
Aela threw back her head, laughter hoarse and loud catching and spreading like fire across their group. She was the only one still somewhat sober, not tripping on roots or cutting her feet on the rocks. Ergnir was slipping on the mud, bleeding from several cuts, bruised and sure to feel it well into the following week. But Vilkas ran at his side, smile wide enough to hurt, and nothing else mattered.
--
“That was spectacular!”
“Hold still, ice-brain! Why did you punch that wall?”
“The banner was taunting me.”
--
They were hiding in a cave that reeked of corpses and bear, strangely all of them together, in one piece. Ria was covered in blood, but it wasn’t hers, and if Ergnir looked a little closer, there was the outline of a bear lying in a corner. She was also strangely lopsided, until Ergnir realized it was him lying on the floor of the cave.
Someone lit a fire from the remains of a previous hunter’s campfire, and Ria once again surprised them with the variety of ways one can say “having sex” and then put it to rhyme. She danced with Njada until one of them slipped, and then it degenerated into a grappling mud fight, or improved into one as some might say.
The Marriage of the Harbinger and the Dragonborn and its Celebration (4/7)
Curses and shouting and approaching bootfalls followed their trail of broken forest and stupidity, and Athis shouted back something in some language that was clearly not Nordic and also clearly incredibly filthy. Arrows and steel bolts whizzed past them, hitting the trees but miraculously none of them, it seemed. The said that Sai the Lucky looked out for the drunks, after all.
Aela threw back her head, laughter hoarse and loud catching and spreading like fire across their group. She was the only one still somewhat sober, not tripping on roots or cutting her feet on the rocks. Ergnir was slipping on the mud, bleeding from several cuts, bruised and sure to feel it well into the following week. But Vilkas ran at his side, smile wide enough to hurt, and nothing else mattered.
--
“That was spectacular!”
“Hold still, ice-brain! Why did you punch that wall?”
“The banner was taunting me.”
--
They were hiding in a cave that reeked of corpses and bear, strangely all of them together, in one piece. Ria was covered in blood, but it wasn’t hers, and if Ergnir looked a little closer, there was the outline of a bear lying in a corner. She was also strangely lopsided, until Ergnir realized it was him lying on the floor of the cave.
Someone lit a fire from the remains of a previous hunter’s campfire, and Ria once again surprised them with the variety of ways one can say “having sex” and then put it to rhyme. She danced with Njada until one of them slipped, and then it degenerated into a grappling mud fight, or improved into one as some might say.