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HELPFUL TIPS
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HELPFUL TIPS
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>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
Escape 1.2/?
Date: 2014-02-26 10:02 am (UTC)One of the more helpful prisoners had directed him into the deeper tunnels, saying that was where most of the ore was to be had. The tunnels closest to the main mine shaft had long been mined out of all but the last scraps of silver by the hundreds of prisoners who had served out their sentences scraping away at the rock. But he had been able to bring himself to venture down further.
The shadows and darkness were a thief’s place, but maybe he was still a bandit at heart. The tunnels of the Ratway in Riften were home, but instead of providing a sense of security these tunnels seemed to press inward, the flickering lanterns only reminding him of the absence of the sun.
He’d been born to farmers, and when he had left that life of drudgery to seek excitement, he’d found it beneath the boundless sky of Skyrim, travelling across the plains of Whiterun and the forests of Falkreath with his bandit clan, and taking what prizes the road brought them. It had been a life full of blood and battle, and for ten years it had been exhilarating. He wasn’t the sort for philosophy or questioning- he was content to follow the orders of whoever had command, so long as it brought him fortune.
He was never a man for cruelty, either. For him it was about the thrill of the fight, not the killing.
The day he’d left, he’d put his back to all that. Thrynn had stumbled upon the Guild, and as luck would have it they had needed a man of his talents. A bit of muscle, to balance out nimble fingers and quick minds. Though there was never as much gold in the Guild as there had been in banditry, there was no one ordering the death of children either.
It had been a stupid thing, to step in the way of the assassin, he reflected, lashing out clumsily with the pick again. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. It was another bit of balance, maybe. For those that hadn’t been spared the day he put his chief’s head on a pike.
Offering to help her with her spying, that had been the real bit of foolery.
At least the labor helped keep his mind off the looming dread. He was trapped in here, finally caught and jailed.
Cynric would know what to do. From his stories, he had to have been one of the best jailbreakers in Highrock. Even out of practice, surely he could get them out.
Thrynn worried free a bit of silver ore with the edge of his pick, cursing. Cynric had still been unconscious when Thrynn had been herded from their cell, and since the guard hadn’t been able to rouse him, he’d been left there. He had been breathing, last Thryn had checked, but blows to the head could be tricky things.
If Cynric died or was impaired, if he couldn’t replicate his previous feats of escape, if there truly was no way to escape… Cidhna Mine would swallow them both whole. Thrynn would be stuck chiseling out ore from the harsh rock, for one of the few crimes he hadn’t committed. If the curse that Delvin always muttered about truly existed, it had a twisted sense of humor.
Re: Escape 1.2/?
Date: 2014-02-26 07:07 pm (UTC)Re: Escape 1.2/?
Date: 2014-02-26 07:22 pm (UTC)Re: Escape 1.2/?
Date: 2014-02-26 10:58 pm (UTC)Escape 2.1/?
Date: 2014-03-02 08:59 am (UTC)Oh, also, since Thrynn and Cynric got were sent information-gathering by Margret and not Eltrys, the circumstances of how they ended up framed for murder are a tad different)
By the time the prisoners were herded back toward their cells, Thrynn’s arms felt leaden and his muscles ached with the jarring pattern on mining. He was a fighting man, not a laborer; indeed, he had run away to join the bandit clan to avoid a life of farm toil. He grimaced, shoving his way back through the milling convicts.
He wasn’t blind to the suspicious looks sent him way by clusters of the prisoners. It was true that the prison was thick with the Forsworn, then, and naturally they didn’t take kindly to Nords. He pretended to be oblivious to their hostile looks and mutterings. Three or four Bretons he could handle, but he was alone and one unfamiliar territory, unarmored and vastly outnumbered. He was not so bad a gambler that he would take those odd unless something crucial rested on them.
His plans of avoiding immediate confrontation were foiled when someone knocked into him. His attention had wandered, but it only took a moment to realize the threat seizing him up. The man who had knocked into him was tall, for a Breton, and had muscles of a miner. His head was shave, aside from a strips in the middle that stuck up like a coxcomb.
Knocking into Thrynn had obviously far from accidental.
“This isn’t a place for you, Nord,” the man growled, taking a step towards him again.
The man might have been tall for a Breton, but Thrynn still had height on him, and he bristled right back. “Yeah? Well if you’ve got any suggestion on how I might leave, I’d gladly take them,” he said, crossing his arms and meeting the man’s stair.
“I could think of one,” the Breton said, glancing at something behind Thrynn. A crowd was beginning to gather- the hardest-looking Bretons mostly, their pallid skin and muscled form testament to long years in the mine. They ranged from old and grey to barely out of adolescence, but all had the same hungry look in his eyes. “I’ve come to regret not killing more Nords when I had the chance. And now look… one delivered here, just for us.”
Thrynn ducked aside of the Breton’s first blow at his face, and came back with a swing of his own. His fist caught the Breton on the side of the jaw, snapping his teeth together and knocking him sideways.
Re: Escape 2.2/?
Date: 2014-03-02 09:01 am (UTC)White-hot pain exploded outwards from the center of Thrynn’s face, but he shook it off. It wasn’t the first time he’d had his nose broken for him, and it wasn’t like to be the last either. The Breton’s next blows were weaker, and Thrynn shrugged them off easily.
Just as the Breton prepared to swing another punch Thrynn lunged forward, smashing his fists into the Breton’s chest, and then, as he stumbled, into his throat. The man tripped and fell, coughing.
When the Breton’s first feeble attempts to rise yielded only more coughing, Thrynn stepped carefully over him, turning in the direction of his cell.
Before he could take another step, hands grabbed him and pulled him back. He was forced to his knees, and restrained, as the Breton climbed back to his feet.
A prison guard passed by, his eyes passing over the scene as if it were nothing.
The Breton pulled a weapon from his belt, and stepped closer to Thrynn again. The weapon he held looked to be a narrow bar of metal, sharpened to a point at the end. A crude, inefficient weapon- but good enough for stabbing an unresisting opponent.
The Breton pressed the tip up against Thrynn’s throat. His eyes were burning with anger and that same cold fury that seemed to fuel the circle of prisoners. “What could some Nord do to get himself locked up here?” he spat. “Rape some fat Nord noble’s whore?”
“We killed Betrid Silver-Blood.”
The Breton whirled to face Cynric, who had stepped out of the shadows that clung to the wall of the mine. The thief was as pale as a ghost, and without his usual attire looked strangely reduced to Thrynn, but he met the Breton’s gaze with an unyielding stare.
“Wh-“ the syllable was just forming in the Breton’s mouth when Thrynn yanked himself free of the grasp of the Forsworn holding him, lunging forward and knocking the Breton aside.
Before he could turn and resume the fight, Cynric seized his wrist and dragged him up the ramp, through the remainder of prisoners lingering outside their cells. Their cell was the last one in the row. Cynric pulled him inside and shut the door, before promptly collapsing against it.
Escape 2.3/?
Date: 2014-03-02 09:03 am (UTC)The neat blow to the head the guard had given him when they were arrested had lain dormant up until then, making its presence known only through the faint ache pulsing through Cynric’s temples. But when he sat up it re-announced itself with a spectacular and blinding burst of pain that ricocheted its way around his skull. When he put a hand it his head, it came away sticky and red with half-congealed blood.
He could do nothing but huddle on the floor, clutching his head and cursing every aspect of the situation with the names of all the Divines and every Daedra he could remember.
The pain had ebbed at last, allowing him to stand. The room had spun around him sickeningly, and his stomach lurched, but it had only took him a few moments to re-master walking in a straight line, even if his head throbbed with every step.
It was in that state he ventured out into the mine, in search of his missing compatriot. He might have waited longer, if it weren’t for the niggling fear that the idiot had gotten himself killed by their captors. The details of their arrest were a bit cloudy in Cynric’s memory, but he did remember Thrynn had been all too eager to fight before Cynric had been clubbed over the head. Had he tried to pull some idiotic stand against the guards?
Cynric lacked the optimism to think thrynn would have had the good sense to run and leave Cynric behind.
His fears had quickly been assuaged, though finding Thrynn about to meet his end at the Forsworn’s hands hadn’t been particularly better.
The chance of him, in the state he was in, lending much to that particular fight had been slim, but he’d said the first thing that came to his head when the Breton menacing Thrynn had given him the opening.
It had proved an efficient distraction, at least.
Now Cynric was once more in a pathetic position, leaning against the door of the cell with his hands pressed to his forehead and his teeth gritted, willing the sickening pain to recede. He heard Thrynn say something questioning behind him, but lacked the concentration to decipher what the words meant.
When a hand touched his shoulder, he almost jumped out of his skin, whirling and then collapsing as the wound on his head protested with an agonizing throb.
Strong arms caught him before he hit the floor, and Thrynn carried him the one of the narrow cots in the cell and laid him on it.
“How did you- manage- to get in a fight so quickly?” Cynric said once he could. He’d had more than his fair share of prison stays, but never provoked such an altercation so quickly. Granted, he’d usually tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible unless his objectives required otherwise, but even if Thrynn wasn’t the cloak and dagger sort of thief he could still pull of inconspicuous.
Thrynn laughed. “Being a Nord,” he said, leaning down to take a better look at Cynric’s head. The bandit’s face was a tale on its own, his nose crooked and bleeding, one of his eyes blackened, and his warpaint smeared and smudged so much it rouge. None of this seemed to faze Thrynn.
Escape 2.4/?
Date: 2014-03-02 09:04 am (UTC)“Nasty knock you took,” Thrynn said.
“I know,” Cynric snapped, catching his wrist before he could prod at it again. “What’s the situation in the mine like? How many guards?”
“Most of the prisoners are Forsworn, I think,” Thrynn said, withdrawing his hand. “The guards seem to let them have run of the place, to an extent. And there’s a tunnel of the main shaft, where I heard it said that they keep Madanach locked up. The Forsworn’s king.”
“I remember,” Cynric said, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to recall all of what they had learned about the Forsworn in their misguided hunt for information. “The King in Rags.” His thoughts were fractured, and the knowledge hard to piece together, but he had a fuzzy recollection of the conclusion he had come to before being knocked out. “The one who is working with Thonar Silver-blood. Or was.”
“What do you mean?”
“Thonar took us for more Forsworn,” Cyrnric said. They had stumbled upon the Silver-Blood woman’s body in the hall of the Treasury House. Thonar had returned to the building only a moment later, and come upon the two thieves standing over the his wife’s still-warm corpse. It hadn’t been a massive leap of logic, Cynric thought bitterly. “He screamed about how we betrayed him.” They should have run then, but they’d been too confused, and then the guards had rushed in. “If he took us for Forsworn, what was there to betray?”
“Unless he had some sort of deal with ‘em,” Thrynn said, catching his point.
“Rather like Maven has with the Guild,” Cynric said with a smirk. “The Silver-Bloods rule Markarth just as the Black-Briars rule Riften. Except it looks like Madanach has broken their alliance.” Useless information, most likely.
“Why did you say we killed that woman?”
“Was the first thing I thought of,” Cynric said. “Should cause them a bit of confusion, at least. Provided it was one their people who actually killed her.”
They fell silent, each caught in their own contemplations.
Re: Escape 2.4/?
Date: 2014-03-05 09:04 pm (UTC)Re: Escape 2.4/?
Date: 2014-05-05 12:10 am (UTC)