Ulfric woke with a grimace at the morning sun filtering through the tall windows in his quarters. He took a deep breath and released it, moving to the wardrobe and pulling on his clothes. Wuunferth moved stealthily through the halls, granting little attention to Ulfric, and receiving little from him. Ulfric trusted the man and that was all that mattered, if his citizens didn't then, well, they didn't really have a choice in the matter.
The main hall and war room were slightly warmer than the upstairs, but not much. Ulfric rubbed his palms together and leaned over the map of Skyrim, but the little red and blue flags swam through his vision. He was still too tired to think about strategies. Instead, he moved to the main hall, picking out an apple and a piece of bread for breakfast. He took his place in the throne and ate, listening to the quiet murmur of his guards' gossip.
Ulfric had just began to relax, when the doors to the palace swung open, revealing an orc storming her way to his throne, many guards trailing behind her. Ulfric stood, anger rising in his chest. "Pigs are not allowed inside the-" "There is a murderer in your city." she interrupted gruffly, "why have you done nothing to stop him?" Ulfric parted his lips , the urge to Shout rising in his throat. She raised a hand, meeting his eyes. A familiar glow radiated from them and he recognized her as the young orc from the execution cart a few months ago. "Do not turn this into a Shouting match, Ulfric." her gruff voice echoed throughout the hall.
"What do you know of Shouting, Pig?" Ulfric's eyes narrowed, his thick accent coming through in his anger. The orc gasped, her fist coming undone, going lax in her surprise. She hadn't expected Ulfric to ask if she was dragonborn yet. She looked away from Ulfric just long enough for him to give the guards a nonverbal signal to take her down.
She hit the floor solidly, six or seven men pinning her limbs and torso to the stone floor. "Are you claiming you don't have time because of your "war" efforts?" She shouted, struggling against the men, almost freeing herself. "What if the murderer kills someone dear to your soldiers? What if your soldiers lose the will to fight because their loved ones were murdered by A MAN YOU REFUSED TO PUNISH?" Ulfric sat back down, his anger beginning to diminish. He ordered her to be thrown in the barracks, he would deal with her later.
The commotion woke Galmar, who came from the upstairs, brandished sword in hand. "What's happening?" He asked, reaching Ulfric's side as the guards dragged the fighting orc away.
"Nothing," Ulfric answered, taking an angry bite from his apple. "Let's begin strategizing."
.
In the barracks, Baltruz Gra-Molag growled pointlessly, anger rising to unbelievable heights. Yeah, she had heard that Ulfric had a low tolerance for Khajit and Argonians, but Orsimer were technically mer, not beast. She screamed, punching the wall. "Called me a PIG!" Baltruz shouted. "Should have been taking care of his PEOPLE!" She screamed unintelligibly, the berserker rage filling her to the brim. Her vision turned red and she gripped the bars of the cell, breaking them with strength she didn't normally have. She plowed through the guards, making her way to the main hall, blind in her rage.
Spinning wildly, growls tearing from her throat, Baltruz found that Ulfric wasn't in his throne. She recognized in her power-drunk state that the berserker rage wasn't going to last long and grew desperate. She tore through the long tables and found her way into Ulfric's war room, targeting the tall nord as soon as the power began to dwindle. She fell to her knees, exhausted, before laying her hot cheek to the cold stone.
Ulfric and Galmar stared, bewildered, at the young orc woman who had just almost killed them. Quietly, the orc lifted her face and met Ulfric's eyes again. "I need... to join the... Stormcloaks."
Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak's Reconciliation [1/?]
The main hall and war room were slightly warmer than the upstairs, but not much. Ulfric rubbed his palms together and leaned over the map of Skyrim, but the little red and blue flags swam through his vision. He was still too tired to think about strategies. Instead, he moved to the main hall, picking out an apple and a piece of bread for breakfast. He took his place in the throne and ate, listening to the quiet murmur of his guards' gossip.
Ulfric had just began to relax, when the doors to the palace swung open, revealing an orc storming her way to his throne, many guards trailing behind her. Ulfric stood, anger rising in his chest. "Pigs are not allowed inside the-"
"There is a murderer in your city." she interrupted gruffly, "why have you done nothing to stop him?" Ulfric parted his lips , the urge to Shout rising in his throat. She raised a hand, meeting his eyes. A familiar glow radiated from them and he recognized her as the young orc from the execution cart a few months ago. "Do not turn this into a Shouting match, Ulfric." her gruff voice echoed throughout the hall.
"What do you know of Shouting, Pig?" Ulfric's eyes narrowed, his thick accent coming through in his anger. The orc gasped, her fist coming undone, going lax in her surprise. She hadn't expected Ulfric to ask if she was dragonborn yet. She looked away from Ulfric just long enough for him to give the guards a nonverbal signal to take her down.
She hit the floor solidly, six or seven men pinning her limbs and torso to the stone floor. "Are you claiming you don't have time because of your "war" efforts?" She shouted, struggling against the men, almost freeing herself. "What if the murderer kills someone dear to your soldiers? What if your soldiers lose the will to fight because their loved ones were murdered by A MAN YOU REFUSED TO PUNISH?" Ulfric sat back down, his anger beginning to diminish. He ordered her to be thrown in the barracks, he would deal with her later.
The commotion woke Galmar, who came from the upstairs, brandished sword in hand. "What's happening?" He asked, reaching Ulfric's side as the guards dragged the fighting orc away.
"Nothing," Ulfric answered, taking an angry bite from his apple. "Let's begin strategizing."
.
In the barracks, Baltruz Gra-Molag growled pointlessly, anger rising to unbelievable heights. Yeah, she had heard that Ulfric had a low tolerance for Khajit and Argonians, but Orsimer were technically mer, not beast. She screamed, punching the wall. "Called me a PIG!" Baltruz shouted. "Should have been taking care of his PEOPLE!" She screamed unintelligibly, the berserker rage filling her to the brim. Her vision turned red and she gripped the bars of the cell, breaking them with strength she didn't normally have. She plowed through the guards, making her way to the main hall, blind in her rage.
Spinning wildly, growls tearing from her throat, Baltruz found that Ulfric wasn't in his throne. She recognized in her power-drunk state that the berserker rage wasn't going to last long and grew desperate. She tore through the long tables and found her way into Ulfric's war room, targeting the tall nord as soon as the power began to dwindle. She fell to her knees, exhausted, before laying her hot cheek to the cold stone.
Ulfric and Galmar stared, bewildered, at the young orc woman who had just almost killed them. Quietly, the orc lifted her face and met Ulfric's eyes again. "I need... to join the... Stormcloaks."