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The crowd cheered and started to hurl verbal insults at the stone stage. Akalgan looked around at the common folk whom had forgotten all about him being a foreigner, as they became lost in the excitement that came with witnessing a public execution. He then cast his gaze back upon the Nords who stood helpless in the face of death, as the executioner unfolded his arms and cracked his hands in anticipation. He had no weapon of execution on his person, however, and this bewildered Akalgan. Does he mean to strangle them with his bare hands? He wondered.

The Ordinators nodded to each other, before unchaining the first Nord and hauling him over the front of the dais and before the crowd. Those closest to the dais pointed and jeered the loudest insults. "Drunken northerner!" Akalgan heard once. "Piss-drinking scum!" Akalgan heard another time. But the Nord ignored the insults, and instead looked outward over the crowds. Akalgan followed the unfortunate man's gaze, but only found more people behind him. Then there was a loud sparking and crackling sound. Akalgan looked back up to the dais, and the Nord's eyes were now closed. Suddenly, his chest exploded spontaneously. A vicious fireball tore through him and then evaporated instantly. Flayed insides sprayed over the jeering onlookers that were up close and personal to the dais. Some of them winced and screamed in surprise. Even Akalgan flinched at the sheer brutality of the execution. "I see now..." He muttered. The executioner held his hands to his sides for a moment while he surveyed his work. The magical energy faded in the pause and Akalgan frowned in disgust. That is just overdoing it. He silently remarked. The Nord was still barely alive when he fell to his knees with the gaping hole in his torso. The executioner then stepped forward, brought his hand up to the sky, and as he did a column of fire leapt up from the floor and engulfed the Nord. Akalgan and those closest could feel the raw heat the pillar generated. The pillar was so bright that Akalgan followed the consensus of people in shielding his eyes with a hand. So intense were the flames that nobody, not even Akalgan, could see the poor Nord being encased in fire. The executioner finally brought his hand down and the pillar dissipated. Akalgan and the rest of the people lowered their hands upon seeing it was over. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing left of the Nord, spare bare ashes, to bury. The slight breath of wind ultimately blew the dust away from the dais, and the crowd cheered. "Praan ko drem." Akalgan muttered in prayer for the poor soul. "For Skrijaheim!" A voice shouted from close-by. Before Akalgan had a chance to draw his attention to the voice, an arrow flew through the air and struck the unarmoured executioner square in the chest. People exclaimed in shock and surprise as they moved away from a group three Nords who wore simple traveling garbs and yet were armed to the teeth with weapons. One of them, a woman, had her bow ready and next arrow nocked. "How dare you--Guards! Seize them!" The grandmaster bellowed. The common folk made way for the guards who were quickly advancing on the three attackers. Akalgan then saw amidst the panic two more Nords, dressed just like their comrades, rush up the dais and, with a furious roar, they took down both the Ordinators that guarded the prisoners. The grandmaster turned his back to the crowd to face the attackers when he was struck in the side by another arrow from the Nord archer in the crowd. With a grunt, he collapsed to the floor and clutched his side in pain. The executioner got to his knees as the Nords cut down the Ordinators with vicious swings of their axes. Before the executioner could turn around to cast a spell, the first of the two Nords hurled his axe at the Dark Elf. The axe landed its mark. It cleaved the executioner's mask in two and subsequently split his skull. There was panic in the grounds. Akalgan stood out of the way of the frenzy as the people formed a clear radius around the attackers. The alarm bells were ringing from the towers as the guards swiftly leapt into the circle and surrounded the three Nords. The archer's companions brandished their swords and held their shields aloft. They were grossly outmatched, but Akalgan could tell what they intended to do. The Nords upon the dais quickly shattered the chains of their brethren and gave them spare weapons. The first Nord then retrieved his weapon from the dead executioner, and spared a glance at the grandmaster. Sendalas glared back defiantly, but did nothing as he clutched his wound. The Nords then nodded to each other and got off the dais quickly. Sendalas glowered and then yanked the arrow from his side with a scowl. The other three Nords fought off the guards with such ferocity that made up for their few numbers. Akalgan watched from amongst the masses with intrigue and apprehension as the Nords bravely fought against insurmountable odds. Joined by their other two companions and now-freed brethren, the group charged against the guards and broke through them like sickle through chafe. The people behind the guards scrambled out of the way of the Nords as they began to flee the chaos. There was a loud boom like the roar of thunder, as a silver lightning bolt shot through the air and struck one of the Nords down. With a cry, the bolt sent him sprawling to the ground with a scorched back from the lightning's impact. The grandmaster smirked from the dais, and brought his hand back to pressing his injury. The Nords immediately stopped in a moment of fear, and they scrambled around their fallen brother. Akalgan's brow furrowed at the sight. Why would you not keep running? Is he important...? He wondered. The hesitation of the Nords to leave their brother behind cost them their chance to escape freely. They were quickly engaged once more by guards and now Ordinators as well. The Nords scrambled around their fallen brother and readied their weapons once more for battle. Akalgan followed some of the people over to watch the fight. The Nord archer still wielded her bow, and nocked arrow after arrow as she landed shot after shot amongst her companions who fought off the guards. They were certainly not going down without a fight, as they killed and wounded the first few guards that engaged them. Blood splattered across the cobblestone and guards began to crawl away from the fighting, wounded by either an arrow or the glance of a sword. Akalgan cringed at the fight and how it was going for both sides. Finally, the Nords were bested. In a sudden swift stroke, the Ordinators leapt in amongst the guards and brought out their blades. One quickly dodged the swing of a battleaxe and cut down the Nord warrior with a flawless flick of his blade, while another blocked a sword blow with his shield and then finished his foe off by separating his head from his body. "Malkir! Jorik!" The Nord archer cried out to her fallen companions. She then bared her gritted teeth like an angered wolf. "Ashlander scum!" The Nord archer cursed as she stepped backwards and fired another shot at the Ordinators. The shot struck the first Ordinator in the shoulder and sent him sprawling to the ground for a moment, while his comrade charged forward with shield raised. The other two Nordic companions joined their comrade and stopped the Ordinator from reaching her. The Ordinator jumped back as soon as he saw the two come at him, and then signaled to the other guards behind him. The guards leapt into the fray and overwhelmed the two Nords with sudden force. "Holgir! Bren!" The archer cried out helplessly. But the Nords had no chance as they were knocked over by shields and then finished off with a merciful stabbing through the chest each. Akalgan could now see the fear in the Nords' eyes, as though they immediately realized how hopeless their fight had become. He watched as the Nord archer cast aside her bow and drew her sword. She stood by her brethren stubbornly, even as the Ordinator marched towards her with his now-recovered companion joining him. She cried out as she lunged towards the weakened one. She nimbly avoided a sword blow from the unwounded Ordinator and grappled with his wounded comrade. She knocked the sword out of his hand and held him by the neck like a shield as she tried to pull him back with her Nordic strength. The other Ordinator simply watched. "Arnigge, look out!" One of the Nords shouted out, but it was too late. Before the archer could turn her head, a guard had stepped in and swiftly cut her throat. Blood gushed from her neck as she weakly released the Ordinator she had hoped to hold captive. Their rescuers were now dead, felled by hesitation and greater numbers. The Ordinator's wounded comrade was taken off to the side with the other incapacitated casualties. The guards followed closely in company of the Ordinator. Akalgan watched, eager to see what the Nords would do next now that their hopes of escape had been dashed. Surprisingly, they shouted in defiance and leapt at the Ordinator. However, swords fell only upon shield and a parrying flick, as the Ordinator disarmed one Nord and killed the other in a swift stroke. He kicked the other Nord down and then held his sword to the throat of the last Nord before he could raise his own weapon. "Drop your weapon and kneel." He commanded, whilst the guards seized the disarmed Nord. The Nord at sword-point hesitated and then scowled. "Never--!" He shouted as he whacked the sword away with his own and then attempted to cut down the Ordinator with over swing. However, once more, blade clattered upon only shield, and the Ordinator followed up by impaling the Nord upon his sword. The last Nord weakly dropped his sword as he fell limp upon the Ordinator's blade. The Ordinator finally lowered his blade and kicked the mortally wounded Nord off of it. He then finished him off with a merciful stab to the heart. He then glanced to the fallen Nord who the guards seized and hauled back over to the dais along with his disarmed brother. The people looked onward, joined by the rest of the citizens who had heard the commotion and came to witness what was happening. Akalgan, too, watched as the last two Nords were brought before the grandmaster once more upon the dais. He looked more than displeased with all the bloodshed they had evidently caused. The fallen Nord from before had just regained consciousness to see the grandmaster Sendalas staring back at him. "Severin Sendalas, you snake..." The fallen Nord who spoke was red-haired, almost as crimson as the blood that now pooled on the streets from the fighting. He stared back at Sendalas with tired hazel eyes. "You and your father's filthy Redcloaks have wrought only chaos here for me and my people." Sendalas growled back. "Now tell me, Ulric Redcloak... How much will your father pay for your safety and possible return?" He asked. Akalgan then realised why the Nords had stopped before, and particularly why he was the one struck by lightning. Severin must have realised that they were here to rescue Ulric, son of Sven Redcloak the Godhammer, and that it only made sense to strike down the objective. Clever and ruthless... Akalgan thought, though he felt ashamed of complimenting the Dark Elf even in his head. Ulric spat on Severin's boots and glared back at him. "Your head on a spike." He responded simply. Severin looked annoyed with the impudence Ulric displayed be spitting on his boots, but then smirked at the response. "Then I see no reason to keep you alive then. Neither of you are of value to me." He noted as he glanced between Ulric and his Nord brother. "What are you waiting for then?" Ulric asked exasperatedly. "FINISH US!" He bellowed. The parade grounds were silent as Severin returned Ulric's intense gaze, but only for that quiet moment. "Guards! Bring me the Ordinator who killed the last Nord." Severin ordered sharply. The guards obeyed and signalled for the Ordinator. He promptly stepped up to the dais and joined the grandmaster. "My lord." He addressed as he obediently kneeled. Severin nodded. "What is your name, Ordinator?" He asked. "Veratus, my lord." The Ordinator answered. Severin took note. "Then stand, Veratus." He ordered, and Veratus did as he was commanded. "You rightfully have the honour of promptly putting these two fools out of their misery." Severin explained. "With my blessing, of course." He quickly added. Veratus looked at his lord for a moment, then back at the two Nords. Ulric looked unphased, while his Nord brother had his head cast down in hopelessness. Akalgan and the rest of the city watched silently as Veratus unsheathed his sword once more. He stepped towards Ulric's companion, and paused for a moment with his sword in both hands pointing toward the heavens. "For the Tribunal." Veratus uttered. He then aimed for the heart and plunged his sword straight through the Nord's chest. He cried out in pain as the life drained from his body, and when it was over for him, Veratus pulled his blade clean from the Nord whose body fell limp upon the stone. Akalgan glanced about him and expected cheers, but the people were shockingly quiet. He then looked back at Veratus as he stepped towards Ulric. Veratus once more held his sword in both hands pointing toward the heavens, but Ulric spat on his boots. "Spare me your Tribunal nonsense, and send me to Sovngarde!" He shouted. Veratus looked to Severin for a moment. The grandmaster then raised his hand. "Hold, Veratus. I've changed my mind." Severin began. Veratus paused for that moment, ready to sheath his sword at the thought that his lord had decided to be merciful. However, Severin had no intention of the sort. "I'll send this rat back to his father--" he spoke as he stepped forward and briskly took the sword from Veratus. "-- In pieces!" Severin then brought the sword aloft and viciously cut across with a cold look in his eyes. He decapitated Ulric in a sudden movement that drew gasps from the crowd. Veratus did not seem shocked, but he did appear to pity Ulric as his head smacked upon the stone and rolled down the steps of the dais to the ground below. Akalgan also stared at the head with pity as people shied away from it. Ulric's body collapsed lifeless upon the stone before Severin, and he smirked. "Good riddance." He muttered. He then looked to Veratus. "Gather the guards and clean up this mess, and prepare the fallen for their families." Severin ordered of the Ordinator. "Oh, and retrieve Ulric's head for me. Sven can have him back." He added as Veratus bowed his head in acknowledgement, before assuming his commands. The guards then started herding the citizens out of the parade grounds and back to their daily life. Akalgan stared at Severin as he departed from the dais and headed towards the citadel, accompanied by two guards to help him with his injury. Akalgan then glanced back to the mess the Nords had wrought, both of the guards and themselves, then finally spared one more look upon Ulric's head. Even in death, his tired hazel eyes stared defiantly towards the skies. It looked like the perfect material for a bard to write a song, and Akalgan had no doubt that there were many of them in the audience. He sighed. "Praan ko drem." He whispered once more in prayer for the Nords' souls, before he followed the rest of the people and left the parade grounds. He headed back to his tavern of residence, eager to get over the events of the morning. It isn't too early to drink, is it? Akalgan wondered to himself.