Because I'll be too busy playing Dawnguard or working the fields tomorrow, I'm putting this up today!

@#@#@#@#@#@#

The two warriors had fought through a veritable horde of draugr, the ancient corpses did little to slow the lycans. At least the preserved bodies were easy to take down, barring the occasional magic wielder. Things seemed to be easy, until they found themselves in a certain chamber, a round one, with a few shelves filled with ruined books. There was a portcullis on the far side, and the only discernible lever was in a small side room, obviously a trap.

“Well... one of us has to trigger it if we want to get through.” The Imperial looked at the simple machine with a slight apprehension. Given the assignment's requirements, the Cyrodiil native was forced into the horrible situation.

“Try not to do anything stupid.” Farkas was trying to sound commanding, as though being Reman's Shield Sibling warranted his leadership.

“I should say the same thing to you, ice brain.” The two messed around with each other, but they never said anything truly offensive. All joking aside, the Imperial stepped into the small alcove, he really didn't want to do this. Reman put his weight into it, and the rusted switch gave way, opening the sealed portcullis.

The one leading to the alcove, however, slammed home, locking the Imperial inside.

“I really should have seen that one coming.” The young man had expected a hidden door or something, not a simple lock in like this. Much to Reman's displeasure, Farkas seemed to find the situation amusing.

“I see another lever in the next room, be back in a second.” The long haired Nord turned to the opened gate, only to be barred access. A number of Silver Hand entered the chamber, each was armed and armored, ready for blood. They surrounded Farkas, with his back against the wall, he had only one option.

“Which one is this?” One innocuous member of the hunting party seemed unfamiliar with Farkas, or perhaps he referred to the Imperial in wolf armor.

“It doesn't matter, he's in the Circle, he dies!” A feminine voice echoed from a hunter clad in steel plate, a voice the Reman was intimately familiar with. The young lieutenant likely had no idea who the Imperial was, the armor's helmet obscured most of Reman's face.

“Killing you will bring glory to our order.” The Silver Hand recruited Orcs, it seemed, the brutish elves were perfect for using silver claymores. Farkas took the threats in stride, even smiling at the leader's order to kill him.

“None of you will be alive to tell the tale.” With a fierce snarl, the Nord began to change shape. The Companions strain was unique, the lycan form's flesh materialized over the user's body, and things must have compounded from there. Regardless of how it worked, the werewolf got things done.

Two fell before the battle truly began, their silver weapons clattered to the ground. One Nord swung his sword, only to have the offending arm nearly ripped from its socket. The leader in steel plate thrust her own silver blade, piercing the lycan's tough hide without effort. Without so much a howl of pain, Farkas backhanded the heavily armored human, sending her flying against the closed portcullis.

“Leave this one alive!” Reman hooked his arms through the bars, pinning both the woman's arms to her side, and her body against the gate. The shifted Nord listened to his Shield Brother, and focused solely on the remaining Silver Hand. Actually, in the carnage, two had killed each other by mistake, leaving only the Imperial, the leader, and Farkas alive. Without hesitation, the Nord ran from the room, and threw the lever.

Reman shoved the woman in steel plate to the ground, before retrieving his arms from the bars. Wouldn't want to get those caught, now would he?

“Bastard!” The helmeted woman whirled around, wielding a scavenged sword. The Imperial brought his own blade to against the silver weapon, Skyforge steel slicing through the jeweler's metal with relative ease. The lieutenant was about to respond, but Reman prevented her action, merely by removing his own helmet.

“Lynette, I believe it's time we had a heartfelt conversation.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

The map marked the ruined structure as the Western Watchtower, a scorched, charred shell of its former self. The ponies were within sight of it, though they used cover to remain hidden as best they could. The only real surprise that the group had come across was a large skeleton that resembled a four-tusked elephant. It wasn't the strangest thing they had come across, but it certainly wasn't normal. Well, normal by Equestrian standards, anyway.

“There, up on the hill.” Luna pointed a hoof, and indeed, there was a massive fortress standing on the summit. The must have been Dragonsreach, the capitol of Whiterun Hold, and the home of Jarl Balgruuf. That made the mass of buildings on the slopes and base the actual city, and Reman was inside, waiting for them. First, though, they needed to reach the eastern wall, and the ponies were currently on the western side.

“Weren't we supposed to enter at night?” Reman had never hinted at the option, but instinct told Glade that the plan was flawless. “Guards don't patrol the east very often, and it looks like it'll rain.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too.” Rainbow was in Ponyville's Weather Patrol, and she recognized storm clouds when she saw then. A smile spread across the cyan mare's features as she understood the plan's full implications.“The storm should keep the guards inside, and we fly everypony over, right?”

“That was the plan, but we don't know how reliable the weather is, though.” Twilight wasn't a weathermare, but she had studied the Everfree Forest's meteorological patterns. The Element discovered that the seasons brought most of the change, and there wasn't a small pattern to be found. “We'll need to wait until tonight to decide.”

“Oh, so it'll be a surprise for them!” Pinkie yelled in a hushed tone, a feat many thought was impossible. However, nopony knew who she meant by them, but that was just a Pinkie Pie mystery.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“You sure it was a good idea to leave her tied up near the exit?” Farkas hadn't expected the Imperial to show mercy like that, but Reman had his own way of doing things.

“I would prefer we just focus on the task at hand.” Lynette was the last thing the Imperial wanted to think about, besides, there were more pressing matters to deal with, first. The lieutenant didn't even rate in the top three at the moment, the treasure room was Reman's top priority.

“Well then, I'm pretty sure that's the piece of Wuuthrad on the far table.” The Nord motion to the other end of the vault-like chamber. Even at this distance, the Imperial could see a dark shape sitting on a small pedestal, the color of ancient, Nordic metal. There was only one thing standing between the two lycans and their prize.

“What are we going to do about these caskets?” The Nords had a tendency to place tombs across and inside walls, and this room was a fine example. From the small corridor, to the round chamber containing the fragment, sealed draugr lined walls.

“If we move the piece, they'll swarm us.” Farkas was pondering his options, and leaving without the fragment of Wuuthrad wasn't among them. “How should we prepare for that?”

“Don't treat me like a whelp, I'm thinking.” Reman moved towards one of the caskets, attempting to find a flash of inspiration. He ran a finger around the lid, feeling the small crevice that separated the outermost portion from the main container. Yes, that might work, but just to test his theory, Reman placed the blade of a scavenged silver claymore into the small sliver. Perfect fit. “Farkas, we should pry as many of these open as we possibly can, deal with the draugr individually.”

“That almost sounded like a plan.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

For Pinkie, life was one big party, and she loved parties! But, seeing those humans fight earlier, she came to understand that life in Tamriel might be much harder than in Equestria. Maybe that was why Reman seemed so serious all the time, he just never had the chance to unwind. But Pinkie had gotten him to attend a party, and he had a lot of fun, even if he kind of... died later that day. But for there to be a war between the people of the same nation, there must be something seriously wrong with the way things go around here.

“You've been awfully quiet, Pinkie.” The party pony was torn from her musings by Glade, the mare with the most knowledge of this alien world. The lycan had noticed the Element of Laughter's coat had dulled slightly, something that shouldn't happen to ponies.

“I've just been thinking.” Pinkie didn't sound like her usual, bubbly self. That was cause enough for concern, given her usual disposition. “This world just seems... harsh.” In the distance, an adventurer fell to the ground, her supplies spilling about. The Element and lycan watched the entire scene, even as several others passed by the woman, none stopped to offer assistance. “Why doesn't anypony help that one?”

“This world is tough, even the fish need armor plating to survive.” Glade spoke with a slight to of resignation, as though nothing could change what they saw. This example of general apathy must have been commonplace, even the nicer locals did nothing to bring aid to the traveler. “But, there are still plenty of those that care for others.”

Glade motioned to a figure that was approaching the adventurer, his posture and stride were calm and easygoing. A reptilian tail swished behind the kind stranger as he helped the woman with her task, picking up over half of her scattered supplies. The lizard-man handed them to the adventurer without asking for thanks, simply waving to her as he walked away.

“I guess you're right!” Pinkie's color returned in full, as though a single act of kindness could actually change one's outlook on an entire nation. But, Glade supposed such things were possible, especially in this harsh, alien realm.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“Why don't Nords have proper burials!?” Reman had to shout to be heard over the melee. Only a few coffins could be opened, but they were drops in a glass, the difference was so little. The Imperial slashed at a Wight's neck, the desiccated tendons proved stronger than one would believe. Failing so sever the corpse's head, the lycan kicked his undead enemy into another draugr, one of the Restless variant.

“To keep provincials like you in Cyrodiil!” Farkas was having a tough time with the living corpses, he was constantly swarmed by the annoying things. The werewolf's slow attacks only made the draugr's jobs easier, Farkas' two-handed weapon strikes were avoided with little effort. The man may have been simple, but he hit much harder than Reman. With a pirouette, the Skyforge steel claymore cleaved though desiccated throats, separating heads from their shoulder-top perches. The ancient zombies redoubled the effort, eager to destroy the intruder. “How do you Imperials deal with the undead?”

“We burn 'em.” With a devilish grin, Reman rushed to the wall, and removed a torch from its holder. Having forgetting every spell to pay for Conjurer's Folly, the man was open to other ideas, especially the violent ones. The lycan waved his torch around, keeping the corpses away, and cut those that came too close down to size. The preservative oils used in Nordic embalming were highly flammable, and draugr weren't intelligent enough to avoid the burning torch. Reman swung his light like a mace, and the corpse caught fire almost instantly.

However, the Imperial was now dealing with a flaming draugr.