It was bound to happen eventually, Marassa thought as she impassively watched Blade lose his temper and storm out of the keep like an overgrown brutish toddler. It didn’t matter to her that men had chosen their own way to die; they died for a cause of their own, which was more than most could claim, as their lives were often ended shortly and in a rather purposeless and undignified manner. There mere act of dying for a cause wasn’t impressive in of itself. People had been doing it since time immemorial. The argonian couldn’t have been more wrong about her; she certainly wasn’t bragging about her recognition, although there was a certain pleasure about rubbing her rather unwanted title and recognition in Blade’s face. It wasn’t unlike how she treated Sevari in the earliest weeks, goading him on and prodding his emotional shortcomings to see if he would react for her own amusement. Whereas he sunk deeper into brooding until a surprising wit emerged, it seemed Blade only knew anger and indignation. She decided the lizard wasn’t even a fair target. He was far too easy to provoke, his pride easy to exploit like a chip in his scales exposing a soft underbelly. She suspected he wasn’t used to interacting with people outside of violent confrontration, and having the final word of threatening to rip out her tongue because he couldn’t emotionally handle her barbs very loudly proclaimed that he really didn’t know how to handle her. She decided it wasn’t even worth mentioning that she had fought dwemer before in Rihad, not unlike what this other group encountered in Hegathe. It wasn’t a contest and she certainly didn’t have anything to prove to him, or anyone for that matter. It also wasn’t worth mentioning that Zaveed was her half-brother whom she literally only met two years ago. Blood really was all they had in common, their upbringings couldn’t have been more different. The khajiit was about to bring the stew bowl to her lips once more when Urzoth stormed out after Blade, fuming. Marassa blinked. She never realized the big orc was that devoted to her past a comfortable familiarity. It came as a surprise that Urzoth would raise her fists in defence of the khajiit she once again called companion. “Huh.” Was all she managed to say as the tensions finally hit a critical point. Several others rose up and followed the two out, either to watch the skirmish or to interfere. The khajiit drank a bit of the broth quickly before following the others out, grabbing her sword in the process. Only an idiot ventured forth unprepared. 

[URL=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH_6iFYiryY]CUE MUSIC![/URL]

The small khajiit, Sion, stood ready with a spell, either looking for an opening or two intervene if the two titans needed to be stopped. She stepped beside Sion, placing a hand over his outstretched arm, pushing it downwards gently, if a bit firm. “Leave them. This is something they both need to do.” She said, turning her attention to the brawl and the altmer’s feeble attempts at intervening. He’d have better chances reasoning with a troll. This was less a brawl than it was about a force of nature, a storm, that would only pass when it had expended its energy. Heavy armour and a single weapon collided with ferocity, it was a primal fight where tactics were not afforded, it was pure instinct and emotion driving each of the hammering blows and grapples. Both were so fixed on destroying their foe that anyone else who had the audacity to interfere would easily find themselves sucked into the maelstrom, a position Marassa herself had no desire to be in. 

When Blade lost his sword, the fight was more even and less concerning despite its savagery. Hammered fists and claws lashed out in heavy, damaging blows with no signs of tiring and the fury only built up. It was at this point that Marassa released Sion’s arm and stepped forward herself. Her tentative steps became a sprint when she saw the blade drawn. Neither would be satisfied with expending themselves in unarmed combat; things had taken a potentially lethal turn, and she wasn’t about to let a comrade die on her behalf. To her relief, Blade simply sunk the sword in the mud next to Urzoth’s head, an act that brought back a vivid flashback of the flash of an elven dagger with a sapphire pommel burying itself in the dirt beside her own head, Zaveed atop of her with a burning anger that turned his normally handsome features into something jagged and terrifying, holding the grip of his dagger with both hands and shaking. An anguished curse filled the air as the corsair bellowed out in rage and frustration. When his attention returned to Marassa, the fight was gone from her eyes. 

[I]Come home, Zaveed.[/I] she had pleaded. The memory was as vivid today as it was two years ago, the conclusion of years of searching for a ghost.

Cub was already throttling Blade, the poor bastard choking under the distressed orc’s crushing grips, Cub screaming that the argonian had killed Urzoth, who miraculously managed to call out to stop him and reach him, trying to get him to release his grip. Marassa joined her, placing a hand on the orc’s arm gently, like a big sister looking out for her little brother. “Urzoth’s fine, Cub. It’s okay. Blade and her had a disagreement, everyone’s fine.” She said soothingly. When the sense of recognition washed over the big orc’s features and his grip loosened, she offered him a comforting pat on the breastplate, as his shoulders were too high up for the reassurance to be a natural gesture. 

Marassa glanced at Blade and offered him a shrug, as if it explained everything before she turned to Urzoth. “I’m not going to ask what that was about, but let’s not kill the people we’re travelling with. There’s already a lengthy enough list of people who are already trying to slay us to add more to it. Besides, if we tried to kill everyone I verbally sparred with, I’m pretty sure nobody would have made it alive across the Jerall Mountains on our way to Imperial City.” She pointed out dryly. “It’ll take more than words to besmirch my honour; I don’t need you to rise to my defense over words. The gesture is appreciated, however. Just don’t make it a habit.” She said, offering the slightest upturns of her lips. “It is nice to know that loyalty was built over the course of our journey that had nothing to do with my brother, however. Come, sit.” She said leading Urzoth to a large rock. “Get these armour pieces off so I can work on your wounds.” She said. It wasn’t a suggestion. She looked over her shoulder at Blade. “And if he is quite done moping, I’ll tend to him as well. I’d rather not listen to him bitch the entire journey to Falkreath. Also,” Marassa reached over and smacked Urzoth with a flat hand across the back of her head. “What in Oblivion were you thinking attacking an armed man without a weapon? I am not worth dying over, no matter how much of an unbearable shit Coin Purse is. We stopped the Emperor because we thought each and every one of our steps out, not because we rushed into situations rashly like a bunch of dogs.”