Chapter 1: Meeting the Cuckold Moose

Having once been a guard in his former life Malthor hisses just loud enough for his companions to hear, "We must fell them before they alert the rest of the watch!"

I turn to Melathor, a grin across my face. "Let them come. We'll kill'em all."

First he was called a fool, then... no, first he was called rabble. Skeinkaldr didn't know what that meant, but combined with fool it must be bad. And tonight's not a night to tolerate intolerable behavior.

With a boulder-crushing roar, Skeinkaldr charges forward in a rage, swinging his warhammer with two hands at the head guard.

Malethor flows forward, face frozen in a rictus snarl, sword darting like a viper's tongue.

After Skein seemingly decimated the head guard, Gellbran charged the guard on his right with shield in one hand and battleaxe in the other. He swings his axe with all his might.

The cool vampiric magic of Xhava surrounds the feet of the head guard, he could feel the pull towards his potential grave. The skeletal hand failed it's attempt, but distracted him long enough to allow the Goliath to strike. Skeinkaldr charged the chatty guard, swinging his weapon with incredible force. His roar made the impact of his war hammer more meaningful. The solid metal crushed the helmet and the entirety of the guard's right face. The night guard's equipment kept his head atop his shoulders, but couldn't save his brains from splattering in any direction the helmet allowed. After the impact and explosive display of brain matter, the body slammed into the ground. Skeinkaldr was covered in blood, though could care less after a beautifully perfect swing. He shut the guard up, no more sharp chatter.

Malethor took this moment to strike as well. His primary target was decimated which stuttered him with indecision. The Revenant's attack missed the next closest guard terribly. Gellbran didn't want to leave his companion unprotected, so charged the same guard. The half-orc's one handed strike was precise, damaging the guard through his armour. The battle axe left a gaping hole in the equipment that exposed the wound.

The group of guards seem to regret their choice of weapon. Five men with just spears leaves them too vulnerable to savage attacks. Not a single guard carried a shield.

I take a moment to gaze at the exploded headless guard's freshly dead body. I imagine the blood still warm in the seconds after death when the body is not yet aware of its demise, dripping from his wounds and soaking into the cold ground. "Beautiful, isn't it? You're next." I point at the nearest healthy looking guard not currently being targeted and try again.

The head guard's mangled skull spewed blood in an abstract pool at the feet of his right hand man. Xhava spoke to him expressing her respect for the beauty in death. The guard didn't share that interest, thinking the Dragonborn was a sick fuck. In that moment, he realized who she was. It was just yesterday when they posted a bounty in the barracks. 'Bronze Scaled Dragonborn: Guard Killer'. This must be the Dragonborn from the wanted poster.

In fear, the guard ran to be closer with his companions. As he ran, Xhava attempted her darker magic once again. A cold skeletal hand reach up from beneath the guard and just barely swiped through him with its necrotic damage. He could feel himself pulling closer to his grave, but being beside his allies kept him strong enough to counter attack the group. The two guards closest to Gellbran and Malethor took a desperate swing to change the tides of battle.

The guard just barely hits Gellbran enough to do some damage, but not much. Surprised that the guard survived his first attack, he decided to aim for his newly aquired wound to guarantee the kill.

Skeinkaldr, battlelust still raging in his heart, lopes around those engaged in melee and directly towards the guards near the barracks. The barbarian leaps forward as he nears, bringing his warhammer down in a two-handed overhead smash.

The half-orc cuts off the grave-bound guard running from Xhava and completely decimates the guard he previously wounded. The battleaxe finds the opening perfectly, continuing with a grievous chop. Yet another guard hits the cool ground hard.

Not moments after Gellbran's strike, his Goliath companion shuffles around and thumps his large body towards the next adjacent guard. Skeinkaldr towers over the comparatively tiny guard and could see him shaking in his boots. It took only a moment for the barbarian to leap forward with his warhammer over head. The attack was violent, making slightly angled landing on the guard's shoulder. The shattering of bones pierced the air as the force behind the strike lead the hammer of the shoulder plate to it's targets neck. The guard's eyes froze open as he instantly faded before plummeting to the dirt.

The guard closest to the barracks watches his two friends be killed. His mind imagined that this was his fate as well, so he chuck his spear at the hulking Goliath and ran for the barracks entrance.

I stalk over to the remaining guard closest to me, raising my warhammer and bringing it down on his face.

The peculiar cleric creeped over to the isolated guard, slamming her hammer down at his face. The edgey fear running through his blood made him react quick enough to dodge the cleric's war hammer. He gripped his spear with both hands and tried to impale Xhava in return, hoping to kill her before the group ended him.

Skeinkaldr chases down the guard inside the barracks in furious pursuit. The goliath brings his warhammer down with wrath, smashing at the nice shiny helmet.

Gellbran's orc blood was pumping quickly through his veins as the blood from his first victim was still spewing from their lifeless body. Eager to draw more blood, he targets the guard directly in front of him, bringing down his bloody axe with a mighty blow.

---

The Goliath runs down the retreating guard into the barracks. His 8 foot tall body was too large to quickly move through the human sized doorway, causing him to whiff his bludgeoning attack. The guard moves to the far corner of the room where there is a large, reinforced door. With desperation in his voice, he begins slamming on the door with his fists. It's seems to be locked from the other side and his only way of escape.

The guard collapses to the floor in defeat, turning to face the Skeinkaldr with his back pressed against the reinforced door.

"Please... My family..."

Looking at the barbarian, he gives up on begging for his life.

---

Gellbran swings at the guard right in front of him and misses terribly. The guard doesn't even notice as he is facing the Dragonborn from his last attack. The half-orc's military training must be a bit rusty.

---

Malethor's longsword scrapes against the guard's mail as the blade punches through and into the man's flesh.

The guard spits up blood as the Revenant's blade cuts into his stomach. His eyes widen as he looks into the face of death. The last guard outside the barracks lays unconscious on the cold ground, the moon cool his dying body. He will die within minutes.

I kneel beside the body of the dying man, staring at his face. If his eyes flutter open, even for a moment, I will smile and say a blessing to Bhaal as my eyes burn like the fires of hell.

Xhava's unsettling presence hangs over the unconscious guard as his heavy breathing turns to wheezing. The Dragonborn can feel his life fading quickly, though the pool of blood would indicate that already. The night guard, with one last grasp of life, opens his eyes and sees the Cleric of Bhaal glaring at him with a fiery gaze. Xhava watches as his warm brown eyes turn cold, frozen shut in the shadow of flames.

Malethor, Gellbran, and Xhava stand amongst four fallen guards, feeling a sense of accomplishment taking out the night watch of a quiet gate. A desperate plea ends short from the barracks, you all see Skeinkaldr's massive farm blocking the door. The final guard seems trapped inside with the barbarian at his exit.