Stin

Cultists

Ayla grips the reigns as Sovn jumps over a log lying on the ground. They aren't following the road to Rorikstead since it would take longer, so they're just cutting through the grasslands of Whiterun Hold. Ayla's eyes widen slightly when she sees multiple bolts of lightning coming from the village as they get closer.

She suddenly wishes she didn't send Odah back to the base as she can begin hearing screams coming from the residents of Rorikstead, "shit," she mutters to herself as she urges her horse to go faster. The sound of hoofbeats on stone fill the air as Sovn turns onto the road leading into the small town.

Ayla pulls back on the reins and Sovn stops, tossing his head as he turns so he is horizontal on the road. Ayla looks to her right to see two people send sparks at the retreating civilians, yelling words as they stroll through the town.

She slides off of Sovn and grabs and ties her swords to her hip before she begins to enter the town, her gaze locked on its two attackers. Another set of hoofbeats on stone announces Ulfric's arrival, but she doesn't look back at him. Instead, she draws both swords as the attackers finally take notice of them.

"You there!" one of them, the leader Ayla suspects, calls out to her as they walk towards her, "you're the one they call Dragonborn?" Ayla comes to a stop and stares at them, tilting her head to the right slightly as she studies them. A white bone mask covers their faces and they wear tan armor that looks more like a robe.

"Who are you and what is your purpose of attacking these people?" she calls to them. She hears another sword being drawn and glances to her left to see Ulfric standing beside her. 

"You don't get to ask the questions here, deceiver!" the leader yells back, clearly outraged, raising his hand and pointing at her, "now, I'll ask again; are you the one they call Dragonborn?" Ayla stares at them, getting the sense that she shouldn't tell them that she is the Dragonborn.

"What do you think?" she asks Ulfric, her gaze still on the aggressors. She sees him shuffle on his feet out of the corner of her eye.

"They just attacked a town for no reason," he starts with a sigh, glancing over at the Dragonborn before looking back at the masked people, "I wouldn't put it past them to attack if you give them the wrong answer,"

"But what is the wrong answer," she questions, a steely gaze on the pair in front of them, "by the way they're dressed I would say they are worshippers of a Daedra or maybe even delusional, believing that they could kill me and use it as a story to woo women,"

"It's up to you to decide what to tell them," Ulfric says after a few seconds, looking over at her, "whatever happens happens," Ayla sighs, closing her eyes and lowering her head for a second before lifting it again, looking at the pair.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she calls out and instantly the two strangers' demeanors turn hostile as they draw their weapons. The leader has magic while his companion has a sword in one hand and magic in the other.

"Your lies fall on deaf ears, deceiver!" the leader yells, taking a few steps forward. Ayla remains as she is, not at all intimidated by the man, but Ulfric raises his sword in preparation, "We know you are the False Dragonborn! You shall not stand in the way of the true Dragonborn's return. He comes soon, and we shall offer him your heart! When Lord Miraak appears, all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!"

Ayla and Ulfric share a confused glance before Ayla takes a deep breath, walking forward while drawing one of her blades as she walks. At her movement, the one with the sword walks forward to meet her, twirling his blade arrogantly and Ayla imagines he is smirking underneath his mask. Ayla stops in the middle of the path, her head tilting to the left as she stares at the approaching man, studying him with a small smile.

The man stops ten feet in front of her as she raises her head from its tilted position, raising her right arm that holds her sword up and leveling it with the man's chest. She can hear the chuckle from the pair in front of her, "Ayla," comes Ulfric's voice from behind her, uncertainty in his voice, "what are you doing?"

She doesn't look back at him, instead she makes sure her sword, which is aimed at the man ahead of her, is level with his chest, "trust me," she says before tightening her grip on the hilt of the sword while taking a small step to her left, sending a smirk at the man who is still twirling his blade, waiting for her to make the first move.

And she will.

"Wuld Nah Kest!" She Shouts and flies forward, arm still extended. She can feel the sword impale the man's chest just when she slows down. She bends down to her knee, pushing the man's body to the ground as she does so. Ayla looks up and sends a smirk at the remaining stranger, who looks a tad bit unsure of fighting her right now.

Perhaps it was a strange bout of courage or the need to avenge his fallen comrade but the man responds by sending a bunch of sparks at her, which she rolls out of the way, bringing her sword with her. She raises a ward just in time to block another bout of sparks aimed at her.

She stands up and begins walking towards the man, arm still extended with a raised ward, deflecting the man's attacks. But the ward is getting weaker with each hit, so she picks up the place, her glare set on the masked man.

Her ward finally breaks when she is three feet from the man. He raises his right hand for another attack but gets a sword to the face, knocking him to the ground with a startled yelp. Before he can collect himself, Ayla raises her sword and pushes it downwards and into his chest, where he gasps before going limp. With a tired sigh, she pulls her sword out of the man's chest and stands there, catching her breath.

She looks to her left to see Ulfric walking over to her, eyes on the body, "thanks for the help," she says before setting her sword aside and bending down to search the pockets of the man.

"You didn't need it," is his response, which causes her to smile to herself.

"Damn right," she mutters under her breath as she continues to search. How can a set of armor have this many pockets? Xaliyah and her crew would have their money's worth trying to pickpocket these people, "why do you reckon they attacked Rorikstead of all places?" she asks the blonde as she slips her hand into one of the last remaining pockets.

"Perhaps it's lack of defense," Ulfric suggests as he looks around the town. People are slowly starting to emerge from their homes, "there had to be ten guards posted here," Ayla shrugs as her fingers hit paper. She pulls the parchment out of the parket with furrowed brows.

She stands up and unfolds the paper, eyes scanning the words written.

'Board the vessel The Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Ayla before she reaches Solstheim.

Return with word of your success and Miraak will be most pleased,'

Ayla looks up at Ulfric, who glances at the note in her hand, "what does it say?" he questions, taking a few steps towards her. Ayla turns her gaze back onto the wrinkled piece of paper and begins to read it aloud, not knowing exactly how to take it. Someone, or a group of people, want her dead. Apparently, her death will please this Miraak fellow.

"We should return to the base," she says after reading the letter, not giving Ulfric enough time to voice his thoughts on the matter, "I want Tal to read this over and get her opinion in case the Morag Tong is involved,"