Liudolf came at Alice like a three hundred ton mule cart fully loaded with anger and spite. The crowd held its breath as he brought two massive fists into the air in an overhead swing. A good hit would knock Alice off balance at best and knock her on her knees at worst. There was no way her arms could block it but dodging it would be easy. This guy thought he was so big and strong but he was so slow. Slow enough to where if Alice had any talent for conjuration magic she could slam an ice knife between his ribs. Instead she effortlessly dodged the overhead attack and lithely moved around him, watching him stumble as he missed her completely. Time to make him mad.
"What's the matter 'brother?!'" She taunted. "Can't hit a little Cyrodillic girl who needs a beating?! C'mon! I'm waiting on you!"
Liudolf huffed as he turned roundabout on the pint-sized Imperial, barring his scowl on her like the edge of a greatsword. It was clear her teasing had sent the wrong chills down his spine. He should have expected this. A girl her size, her best bet was to dance around him and he knew it. All he needed was a few solid hits to slow her down, and one more to keep her down. Fights like this were just damn annoying and most of all, a waste of time. It reminded him of brawl with a younger soldier, wiry little bastard moving like he was part rabbit and deer. After their cute dance, he managed to sufficiently flatten him into the earth and feed him his own teeth. How did it go again?..
Shifting to his back foot and drawing in a deep breath, he dropped low and exploded into a sprint, eating up the distance between him and the girl in seconds. Keeping his fists pinned to his chest and feinting with his right, he threw a heavy uppercut from the left with an aim for her chest. She was only moments ahead of him though, barely avoiding the swing as she dipped to the right, and caught herself on his sweeping leg. Her fumble to the ground was brief but Liudolf was right behind her, a swift kick to the ribs carrying her out of his reach by several feet. He leapt after her and stomped the ground where she had been, missing her skull by a breath.
She was damn quick, he'd give her that. If he was in his armor, she'd have shattered ribs and a busted skull. He pulled his shirt off and set it on some nearby barrels, revealing a canvas of scar tissue over tight muscle, and a ring of aged rope-burn at his throat.
"Now that looks painful.. You can always yield y'know, and who would blame you?" He teased back, eyeing the scar on her shoulder. "C'mon.. It's not the first time you tucked tail and left everyone hanging, eh commander?"
Alice gritted her teeth as she rolled up from the ground. That kick had hurt like Oblivion and if she'd been on her back for another heartbeat she'd have a broken eye socket. This guy might be big and slow but he wasn't stupid. His right hook was an expert feint, moving her right in front of his left leg for a solid kick to the right ribs. She'd been able to turn on her back and ride the blow but it had spun her around and knocked her on her hands and knees. She tried to turn around to stand up but she overcorrected. Her right side was exposed and he was preparing for another kick. It was only for a half a second before she stood up but that was all he needed. The heel of his left boot found her ribs and this kick knocked her flat on her back. It was in the same spot as the first kick and Alice couldn't help but give an agonized groan.
Some of the crowd objected to this, pointing out that the rules she just made were just fists. Someone else pointed out that the big lunk had never agreed to them and it was a street fight now. The rest of the crowd cheered, caught up in the primal energy of the fight. Alice laid there for a couple of heartbeats with her eyes closed, willing the pain to go away and let herself get up. He could see her charging at her and bringing his left leg back. He was going to kick her head like a football! That could break her neck! She put her hands behind her back and pushed herself off the ground into a roll! She landed on her right knee and got back on her feet, only now realizing his boot had missed her by barely a breath.
Now she was back in the present, her heart racing and a large bruise forming on her right side. She took a few moments to place her hands on her knees, bend over a bit and catch her breath while the brute took his shirt off and threw it onto a nearby barrel. His chest was covered in scars and would have been unsettling to look at if she wasn't ready to beat his face in. His taunt made her just as mad as hers clearly made him but another look at him made her realize something very important. She and Liudolf had met before.
"You otta know." She panted. "You were at Windhelm with me when it all turned to bloody maggots. Maggots that were burrowing into me and a dozen of my lancers while you were RUNNING AWAY!" She screamed the last two words as she charged forward with amazing speed. Her pain was completely eclipsed by rage now that she knew who Liudolf was. He was one of her hundred Lancers. One of twenty replacements she'd gotten before the Battle of Windheld during her father's rebellion. She'd never had time to even learn his name before the battle and he was one of the first to run away when Garumn's insect swarm struck her down. He ran away with Hale. He was one of the men who left her to die.
She shrieked like a banshee as she spun into a cartwheel kick. If this guy wanted to fight dirty than she'd break his nose. He was fast enough to get his face out of the way of her right boot but it made solid contact with his right shoulder, forcing him back into place. Her left boot was a direct hit but he was able to absorb the blow, literally taking it on the chin. Alice didn't let that slow her down and started laying into his upper chest and throat with double fisted punches, her diamond ring sparkling in the twilight with every one.
"YOU WERE ONE OF MY MEN!" She screamed. "YOU PROMISED TO PROTECT ME AND YOUR BATTLE SIBLINGS AND YOU RAN AWAY LIKE HALE LONESHADOW! I NEARLY DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!"
And for a few brief moments, all Liudolf could do was take it. As she clocked him across the face, throat, chest, and just about everywhere else she could reach, he recalled painful flashes of that day. The lights of a burning city, rushing the battered gates with a dozen other lancers, and finding nothing but horror and darkness. He expected to die that day, alongside his fellow man by the blade of another man, and he'd made his peace with it. But when the swarm came, when a tidal wave of thousands of maggots ate his brothers and sisters alive, when their screams were drowned out by the hissing and squelching.. He ran, and survived to live with a revelation of his own.
As Alice pounded his chest and swung up to strike his throat again, Liudolf closed his meaty fists around hers in perfect time. Then he started to squeeze. He too was practically trembling with rage now, speaking to her through clenched teeth, "You should have.". He flung her arms apart and made to repeat his earlier feint, but Alice had wizened up, slipping under his arms and into his guard, kneeing his groin. Her leg wrapped around his and she kicked out the other, shoving an elbow into his ribs as hard as she could, attempting to ground him. Liudolf didn't even fight it, grimacing through the pain as he grasped her hair and yanked, flinging her over him as he tumbled in a heap.
She'd recovered her footing faster than he'd expected, but he was riding her tail like a living thunderstorm, launching to his feet as the two exchanged a mad flurry of blows. She couldn't hope to challenge his strength, instead hitting all his soft spots and joints, slowing him down with each furious strike. He matched her speed but lacked her precision, throwing a glancing jab here and there, the look of death in his eyes as he left agony in his wake. "I KILLED THAT F***ING COWARD AND GREW INTO THIS! NO MAN, WOMAN, OR BEAST HAS EARNED MY DEATH, AND I BEG THEM TO TRY!" They locked up again, coming face-to-face. "You've been RUNNING your WHOLE LIFE! How more died IN MY PLACE because of THIS CHILD?! THIS GIRL WHORE PLAYING AS ONE OF US?!"
As he threw a haymaker with his right, Alice ducked around to box a combination to his gut, but got snatched at the shoulder blade by his left. Liudolf instantly retracted his right arm, his elbow cracking her across the face before he drove a knee into her stomach. His hands quickly found her throat and lifted her off the ground, the grayish twilight illuminating his bloodied features, alive with white-hot wrath.
"Forty-six men and women, my brothers and sisters, DEAD! Not even a week ago and HERE I STAND to AVENGE THEM! TO FIGHT! Their faces and names don't haunt me because I'm not scared of the f***ing dead!" He felt her strength waning as she pounded on his arms, clawing at his face and eyes. He lifted her higher. "But YOU-- all these legends, all this hype-- and you're still TOO WEAK to own up to it! Maybe I need to pay your father a visit then, see if you Imps really do bleed wine!"
She finally let out a vitriolic scream, finding her strength as she double-punched his throat and kicked wildly into his crotch. She hoisted her legs up over his arms and arched backwards with all her might, using his tipping momentum to lift and flip him into the air. The hulking nord crashed to the ground hard with a pained groan, clamoring to gain his feet as his world spun, bucking like a wild animal.
Liudolf landed square on his head as Alice flipped him over. After screaming in his face and giving him a solid kick to the crotch he'd stumbled forward. She let herself fall with him, push her feet onto his bare scarred chest at the last minute and use his own weight and momentum to throw him two meters behind him without flipping onto her own head. It was an impressive feat of both athletics and acrobatics but all it bought her was time. Her right side, stomach and left eye socket were badly bruised and she could feel a trickle of blood running down her back after falling on a sharp rock just the wrong way. Her left eye was agony to keep open and she could feel the lid starting to swell. She could taste blood in her mouth and had to bite down on her lower lip to distract herself from her everything hurting. Tears were in her eyes from all the pain even though she kept blinking them away.
Liudolf didn't look much better. She could see big bruises on his chest, chin and shoulder and somewhere along the way his nose had started to bleed. He was groaning with just as much pain as rage as he tried to get back on his feet and that let Alice get a little distance. This fight had lasted less than a minute and it had gotten ugly fast. She didn't expect things to get so personal and the crowd didn't either. They'd expected a boxing match and not a street fight and they clearly looked uncomfortable but none of them left or looked away. They still wanted to see who'd win and with they way both fighters looked that was going to be soon.
Alice felt genuinely sorry for this man. He'd clearly lost just as much as she did at Windhelm and hadn't moved on from it nearly as well. She was his commander so blaming her made perfect sense. Especially since she couldn't be there for any of her men after that because she was an absolute wreck. She'd been in Whiterun's hospital for a month and Winterhold Asylum for three months. Long enough for the Psyrakon Rebellion to end and the Second Great War to begin. It was more than two years ago at this point and she still felt ashamed at how much time and effort were needed to get her back together. For all she knew this man had taken a similar journey and clearly not done well with it. Especially since it sounded like he'd lost a lot of friends recently. Likely due to the Sickness or some other catastrophe. They'd have to talk about it when they were done.
She was almost there. With a few more dodges and weaves she could tire him out and win. She could see it in his face. She just had to hold on. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing down and got herself into the best headspace she could to finish this fight. "You all done Nord?" She panted, wiping blood and sweat from her eyes and face. "Or do you wanna keep dancin'? Maybe think of even more mean things to scream at me."
Liudolf's ears were ringing as he struggled to ground himself, his vision swimming with shadows and vague silhouettes. Mud was caked in his hair and slathered half his face, and it felt like he had a headache straight from oblivion. He didn't even realize his nose was bleeding until he tasted the blood on his upper-lip. The blows he'd taken below the belt made his stomach ache and his leg jelly. And even though his ex-commander wasn't exactly in working shape either, he had to respect how much punishment the girl could take. She was practically battered to bits and still taunted him for another round. Any other man might have taken that as a sign to yield, end the bloody street fight before it got bloodier, but Liudolf couldn't give her the satisfaction of a victory so easily won.
"You.. led us all.. right into that ambush. Right into Garumn's jaws. Once we followed you.. we never stood a chance. All that death.. and they still rewarded you for it." He sat back on his knees, swaying as he wiped at the mud in his eye. "At least my clan fought for it, right from the start, and our reward? Death."
It was true that his family once worked closely with Ulfric's regime, seeing his rebellion as the one call to arms that would finally liberate Skyrim. Sovereignty had always been their birthright and no one argued the point when Ulfric wrestled it back for the people, despite all the blood he'd shed to do it. But as his more 'traditional' values translated into his rule, and his humble militia became a cutthroat private army, the Agerssen clan was flooded with doubt. They sought a new beginning in the Psyrakon Rebellion, and his father, uncle, and brothers fought alongside Simus Psyrakon, an old ally of Ulfric. They thought him a brave and forthright man, thought his daughter a fierce warrior and tactician, and placed their faith in them. Liudolf did too, as it felt for the first time in a hundred years that their clan could finally fulfill their purpose and settle the beast of Skyrim. Even after Karthwasten, when his father saw Alice's weak and unformed leadership firsthand, he still believed. When his own brother, Liudolf's uncle, was slain at Windhelm, he believed. Liudolf suspected he believed in the Psyrakons right to the moment the hangman's rope cracked his neck.
For all he knew, his sister Ljufa was dead, leaving only he and his brother. An entire clan wiped from the map because of the folly of one family and their hubris. And that still wasn't the worst of it. Liudolf held them personally responsible for what remained, the meager return of all their suffering and blood.
He stumbled to a shaky footing, drawing the knife at his belt and pointing the blade at Alice. "Every time someone follows you, they die, or worse! They get to see an outsider whore and her half-blind father whispering in the king's ear, ruining everything we fought for! And here you are again, leading us all to hell with a warm hug and a cheer. You damn Psyrakons.. You've been devils this whole time." He chuckled darkly, licking the blood from his teeth and stabbing the knife into a nearby post. He still had enough steam for another bout and he knew with the right hit, he'd put the girl to sleep and break something as he did it. But he was hurting like hell, and she'd done damn good work slowing him down, nearly bringing him to heel. A feat very few men were capable of doing, in one piece that was. All or nothing, it was time to make her pay.
"Come here, Psyrakon. You need to know what real defeat tastes like."
Breathing deeply one last time, he grunted as he sprang forward, diving for a low jab into Alice's aching gut and missing by a few irritating inches. She cracked a swift jab against his jaw and danced out of his range, leading him into another intense flurry. He stomped after her and happily obliged, his tired swings reflecting just how worn out he really was, with Alice's sluggish weaving and softening strikes doing the same. As she veered from another hammer-fist and tried to get behind him, he managed to grip the back of her neck and spin with her weight, leveraging her off his back and slamming them both to the ground.
The throbbing in his skull was unbearable, and dark spots circled his vision, but he rolled over onto her, his fists dropping like anvils and pounding the dirt where Alice just barely evaded him. It was a tight space, but with a rapid jab to his throat and face, she wiggled up and locked her legs around his neck, using her core to tighten the hold and strangle him. His face blossomed a cherry-red as he struggled to breathe, lifting her up and slamming her down, again and again. But her grip was absolute, her eyes burning her hatred into him. As his world darkened and he felt himself relaxing into unconsciousness, he lifted her up one final time and catapulted forward, slinging her down as hard as he could, breaking free. He laid on his back as his chest heaved and his lungs worked overtime to keep him awake, unsure if the girl was repositioning to finish him off, or had been knocked out completely.
Now Alice was truly frightened. She was sure her last flurry of blows and her choker leg lock would bring him down but neither had worked. No wonder this man had survived so many hardships. His stamina was truly incredible. She meanwhile had no strength or stamina left. Her last three punches were barely slaps and if she got hit in the ribs or face again her bones were going to break. It was all she could do to drag herself onto her knees and seriously considered staying down just to end this stupid fight. But as she struggled to hold herself up she noticed something. The crowd had been egging them on since they started. Shouting advice and criticisms and insults and even bets. They cheered when one of them landed a good hit and admonished them for a bad one. Many of the onlookers objected when their boxing match mutated into a street fight and then bayed for blood when they realized how exciting it was. But after Alice starting taking some truly savage blows a few yelled at them to stop. Now a lot more were doing that. They were yelling at Alice to stay down, to yield, that she'd proven herself and should stop. They were calling Liudolf a coward, a bully, a disgrace to the name Stormcloak. She had won the crowd and this was her chance.
She slowly got up, every muscle agony to move. Her feet were horribly shaky as she finally got onto them. Her left eye was swollen shut and oozing at this point and she had such a big cut above it her hair was bloody. She could feel more blood trickling down her back and every breath she took hurt from what must be a cracked rib. She didn't even have the strength to redo one of her bra straps after he'd nearly ripped it off trying to pull her to the ground. She couldn't take another punch and he looked like he had at least one more. All she could do now was try and talk him down.
People all over Tamriel told stories of her peoples' reputation for eloquence. The so-called "Voice of the Emperor." Some of the tales were so exaggerated that they made it sound like every Imperial could cast some sort of magic spell that calmed people down. Alice really, really wished that were true. But those stories came from a Cyrodiil that had learned long ago that war and conflict were a last resort when defending the Empire. An empire that got smaller and less stable every generation and would fail completely some day. Talking things out saved lives but there was no magic. And even if there was Alice's own rules said No Magic. She wasn't about to break that. She took a deep breath and readied her last blow.
"You hear that Agerssen?" She rasped. "That's the sound of you losing this fight. You lost the minute you challenged me. I either beat you and look like a hero or you beat me and look like a bully. I win either way and you played yourself perfectly. " She paused to spit blood on the ground and gave him a plops eating grin through bloody teeth. "I'm sorry you lost your clan because of my bad decision. I truly am. I paid for those deaths in blood and sanity. But beating me up isn't going to bring them back or make you look good. I don't care if you hate my family and I. It's sad that you'd think I would. I wrote The Stormcloak Wars: A Firsthand History so I could show everyone in Skyrim I didn't care. And it's been a bestseller for more than a year for it. If you want even more reasons to hate me you should buy a copy. Half the kingdom hates me for it. You are a grain of sand on a beach compared to that. " She spat the last sentence with as much venom as she could muster. "I suggest you yield. You've lost the crowd and you won't be getting it back tonight. Keep beating me up. Make me bleed, break my bones, crush my head and murder me. But all it's gonna prove is that you're a small, frightened man. One who's so desperate to prove how brave you are that you beat up a blood spattered woman half your size."
Any resolve Liudolf had left was draining from him in shades of red and the drumming, pulsing pain in his body promised to put him out before he could figure out where Alice was, let alone finish her off. Everything from his waist up looked like a poor attempt at abstract art, and felt even worse, making any movement a torturous task. Tears blotted his vision and he couldn't draw a single breath that didn't taste like blood and burn like dragon-fire. If he could just find his feet and wind up one more nice, hard swing, he'd break the brat and finally end this. Show her how weak she was since her own father clearly couldn't break the news to her. He was already halfway there, weakly struggling to push himself up on to his knees, when the crowd's collective voice pierced his muddled senses.
"For godssake brother, leave her be! She's in worse shape than you!"
"You're really gonna beat her to death?! Stop this!"
"This is pathetic! Let's see you take someone your own size!"
"I thought Stormcloaks were supposed to keep the peace, not bully their own!"
"Damn coward! You know she can't take any more!"
While they continued to berate him and extinguish any vigor he was holding on to, Alice delivered her final taunt, the final nail in the coffin this fight had become. A humbling wash of shame and guilt sobered his overwhelming hate, and in that moment, he knew he lost. He'd seen men cut to ribbons, staked on spears, and gutted like livestock that were better off than he was right now. Fixating on breaking this girl and making her beg to face some kind of brutal, urban justice, made him forget that this was a display for the people. His people, who asked for a boxing match and got a bloody, one-sided street fight.
But.. Didn't they cheer for this? Didn't they want to see him 'break her teeth' and 'show her what pain feels like'? And whether or not she was on her last leg, bruised to pl*ps, and spitting up her own blood, Alice stood taller than him, right from the start. There was no way he was going to win over the crowd and pin her under his boot at the same time. They didn't want to admit it but it was clear these people weren't mad enough to see her broken, in spite of the massacre and anything else she'd done to piss them off. He was never going to win, and even if he did, she'd be dead and he'd have betrayed his own oath to the Stormcloaks.
And that only made him seethe with a newfound fury, igniting in an instant to liven his lethargic flesh. It was moments before he realized his hands had melted into the mud, hissing and bubbling up as that all-familiar tingle coiled in his chest. He could fry her right here and now, char her to a crisp and anyone that tried to stop him. He had it, just enough for one blast and at this distance, there's no way he'd miss.
He heard the plated shuffle of a man in armor, just next to him. "And I suggest you listen to her ." The Stormcloak commander from the mines loomed over the battered nord, prepared to draw his blade but safely assuming he wouldn't have to. "For your own sake." And slowly, Liudolf relaxed, letting the rush of magika fizzle out as he painfully rose to his feet with wheezing breaths. Those pangs of remorse joined with the pulsing chorus in his body, and he knew what pill he had to swallow next. Might as well get on with it so he could get some kind of rest.
"Yea.." He said finally, nodding to the tiny, grisly imperial who'd gotten the best of him. "I yield, to Alice the Great. You're a true warrior, with an even sharper tongue. Careful you don't go cutting the wrong ears." That said, he brushed past the argonian and retrieved his shirt and knife, hobbling for the tavern's main hall, namely the bar. It had been months since he'd knocked back a hard ale, and he figured a good few were in order after the beating he took.
"Oh thank Talos!" Alice cried, staggering forward to shake the hand of a worthy opponent. "Now, let's go get a dr..." Three steps in her sentence was cut off. With her adrenaline and rage drained away the fight caught up with her and she fainted. She fell to the ground so fast that no one could catch her and hit a dry patch of dirt right on her head. She tried to keep her eyes open and say that she was okay but all she got was mumbled speech. By the time her eyes closed she wasn't speaking.
Or breathing.
