A successful insurrection (against insurrectionists, come to think of it) usually takes time and planning. I didn't use either of those to much effect, and perhaps the death toll for those who aided me could have been smaller had I taken more care. But those who died were, frankly, grateful to be free of that wretched mine, no matter the cost. Besides, most of them believed they were heading to Sovngarde (similar to Valhalla, a place those who die honorably in battle end up going). Or maybe I’m just trying to justify my decisions to alleviate my guilt. I don’t know.

 

My guilt aside, it still took longer than I would have preferred to get the fuck out of there, but I needed time to recuperate some strength after the gauntlet of rape and torture I had been greeted with. I was fortunate that the "True Nords," as the non-Forsworn-affiliated prisoners called themselves, found me before the masses came back for seconds, or I surely would have perished. As it was, traversing anywhere along those twisted black tunnels was a challenge.

 

Roving bands of Forsworn prowled like Hyenas, looking for anyone who didn't have a pile of silver ingots ready to be picked up. The Forsworn controlled the food supplies, so only those who brought them silver got any; but, of course, bringing them silver meant subjecting your body to their carnal desires. Daring raids for food among the desperately starved led to the roving gangs who dragged off anyone who looked like they weren't contributing. I, myself, was caught a few times while trying to get from one side of the mine to the other, and always paid a large price for it.

 

After weeks or months - based on circumstances a little later, I still have no real idea how long I spent there - I put my plan in action. It called for the True Nords on the east side of the mine to cause a distraction, which would empty a large portion of the main chamber, where I hoped I would be able to take out the leaders.

 

It worked, mostly. We heard a loud booming sound and lots of shouts; I counted to ten then started sprinting. A flick of my wrists brought out Dibella's Graceful Swords, and I struck down every distracted Forsworn I came across. The path to the central chamber was easy to clear, but the main room itself still had more Forsworn than I had counted on. Still, I had surprise and weapons on my side, so I did not hesitate.

 

Neither, it turned out, did the True Nords - I had made them promise to stay behind, but they, being Nords, poured out of the cave right after me. They probably saved my life - even with weapons and Dibella's protection, the twenty or so Forsworn would have been a challenge, and it turned out Borkul took all of my attention.

 

Wearing nothing but a loincloth and wielding two pickaxes, he was still the hardest challenge I had faced (and still ranks in the top five of my all-time most badass enemies). I'm afraid I would not have won any awards for sportsmanship, but I was worried about survival, not style points. I shouted at him, making him stumble back, then sprinted away, then used Dibella's Beautiful Bow (she named these weapons, not me) to fill him with fiery magical arrows as he charged, roaring, then shouted again, then switched to the swords and sliced at him as quickly as I could until he started to recover, then started the cycle all over again.

 

Eventually Borkul died, but even in death, he was magnificent, fighting with every dribbling ounce to get back up. For just a moment, he looked lost, straining to stand as he stared blankly into space with an odd expression. Almost as if he was puzzled. Which, who can blame him? That mother fucker was tough; he probably never dreamed he could be killed. It was with some real regret that I stepped up and sliced off his head. Gotta hand it to those swords - they're fucking sharp!

 

The rest of the Forsworn charged out of the mine moments later, only to skid to a mass halt when confronted with the line of Nords. They actually still outnumbered us by a factor of three or so, and they did make a go of it, but their best fighters were already gone, and when the remaining Nords from the tunnel the Forsworn had recently egressed joined the fight, effectively surrounding them, the battle was over in minutes. Perhaps I should have made an attempt to stop the slaughter, to show some mercy, but, truthfully, the thought never entered my mind. I still feel only mildly quizzical about the idea to this day.

 

"Okay," I said after we had celebrated our victory by eating (for the first time in months or years, for most of them) to our fill from the stash of food, "now we just need a plan to get out of here."

 

"Um...what about the King in Rags? Shouldn't we do something about him?"

 

"The what, now?"

 

That's when I was reminded of Madanach, the Forsworn's king. Borkul had just been his main lieutenant.

 

Well, shit.

 

I looked around. "I've been all over this fucking place. Where is he?"

 

"Um...I think he's behind that door. The one you're standing in front of."

 

I turned and looked. Sure enough, a barred, locked door was set into the wall. "The fuck? Where did that come from?" Apparently it had been there all this time, and I had never noticed. Well, no surprise, I suppose - I had never had much desire to spend any time in that particular part of the mine.

 

The key turned out to be hidden under a rock by Borkul’s sleeping furs and it was with much trepidation that I opened the door and led the way through a narrow, winding hallway. If Borkul was just second in command, what would the king be like? He had to be even bigger! And tougher! And there was no room in this little corridor for my cowardly fighting style - any attempt to sprint away would just get me entangled in the crowd of Nords who were pressed at my back. Jesus...

 

I gripped the swords that I hadn't even realized I had activated in sweaty hands - one of the benefits of magic swords made of energy is that they can't slip from your grip - as we rounded a last corner and found...

 

...an old man, laying on a bed, getting a blowjob from some skanky naked Forsworn chick.

 

The Nords and I were gripped in a moment of surrealistic confusion. Then someone broke the tension by clearing their throat. The woman spun around and gasped, then jumped at me, fire arcing from her fingers. I acted on instinct more than anything - one of my swords stopped the fire by taking off her hands (and neatly cauterizing them at the same time. Like lightsabers! Cool!), then the other took her head from her body.

 

Madanach cleared his throat. "Well," he began in a calm, reasoning tone. "I see that you have become exactly what they wanted you to become. Beasts."

 

I'm not sure where he was headed with this train of thought - probably just trying to bullshit his way out of death - but before I could say anything, the mob behind me came to life and ran to him with a thunder of inarticulate howls and cries and screams. He quickly became a red smear. Apparently he had made a valid point.

 

Here's where this gets strange. I know - it's been normal up till now, right? But stranger still - there was a door in Madanach's room to which he (naturally) had the only key. It led to a labyrinth of sorts; this labyrinth led to a large set of doors. These doors led to...fucking outside. Madanach had a quick path to and from the prison whenever he wanted it. Of course, it wasn't for escape; it was to deal with Mr. Corrupt Silver Blood, who is exactly who was waiting for us when we opened the door. He didn't seem even a little surprised to see us.

 

"I wondered who I would be talking to when that door opened. Frankly, I am more than a little surprised that you are still alive. I am, however, very happy to see you. Madanach was getting out of control; it was time to put him down. The city thanks you for your service."

 

"I...what?"

 

"Here are your things. All charges against you and your...friends here are hereby dropped. Have a lovely day."

 

"What? But...wait!"

 

Not one for listening, is Bastard Silver Blood. I checked over my stuff. Everything seemed to be how I remembered it. Except, of course, the five-hundred gold I had acquired to start this whole mess was gone. Fucking Markarth.

 

Don't feed the bastards - they'll just want more

 

Next Chapter

 

Previous Chapter

 

Start at the Beginning