Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20190123231010/@comment-25828117-20190128165932

"Graicus?"

"Graicus!"

The Imperial legionnaire looked up at his captain, away from the pile of torsos and limbs that had been carefully arranged into a forsworn symbol. A warning, one of many, they had received these last few weeks.

"Are you deaf, man! Get to work!" Captain Jaspianus was trying his best to hide his own shocked expression but it was clear that even this battle-hardened man was about ready to snap, just like the others. You could hear it in his voice, the way it cracked as he yelled at Graicus.

"Bury these men... They deserve at least that shred of dignity."

Graicus didn't acknowledge the command but did as he was told, that was enough for Jaspianus. Military formalities had long since been abandoned. You just got on with your job and that was that.

The unblinking eyes glazed with death were the worst. Worse than the smell, that sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh. It were the eyes of men he knew, Cavus, Marcus, Bari... Their faces now stuck in the horror of their last moments. Graicus dared not think about how long they were alive still when they were torn to pieces. But he could imagine Marcus lasting the longest, he always was a strong man.

Pavo handed him a shovel but said nothing. There was nothing to be said really. Both friends got to work and dug the graves for their fallen brothers in silence while other legionnaires stood guard. Not only was it a mentally taxing job but it was physically as much hell. The Reach was a brutal, jagged land. Cold and made out of rocks. And thus, so was the ground they were digging in.

Sweat trickled from his brow. Graicus could feel the cold wind clash with his body warmth, accompanied with his inner-thoughts and the smell it made him throw up.

He just wanted to be done with this. With everything. He wanted to go home. Or failing that, to die, so it was over. Part of him wished he could just fall into the grave he had just dug and stay there. Forever. But he couldn't. He had to make it out. For his brothers. No quitters.

Graicus took the last head that needed to be buried, Carvus' matted dark brown hair clung to the cold face but gently brushed his fingers in the breeze.

That had been a constant in this part of Skyrim. Mountain winds and bad weather. There had been no sunshine in this part of the reach for over two weeks now. Only eternal overcast skies or mountain mists, that slowly turned into nights that were darker still.

The night had come suddenly. Graicus stood alone by the graves. Pavo was nowhere to be seen and fear took him. Had they left without him? He'd be dead within the hour all alone in the reach, waiting to be picked off by one of the reachmen. Even now he could feel them watching from dark shadows in the rocks.

He held the head of Pavo and his eyes widened when he realised he did. His friend's horror-striken face silently begged for help but Graicus was so shocked he practically tossed it while at the same time stumbled back, wishing to be as far away from it as possible.

He could see the reachwoman lurking in the dark now. The face paint almost glistening in a sudden streak of moonlight escaping from the clouds above.

Frasella loomed low like a prone animal and before he could say anything she pounced, burying a bone knife into his neck.

-

Graicus pushed Frasella out of the bed and jumped up. Awake and ready to fight.