Having finished her breakfast and paid for the meal, Fiona had just been about to leave the inn and go check on her horse in the stables when she noticed what was outside. She saw Sana, her arm gripped by an unfamiliar man, who was accompanied by a number of others, all armed and dangerous. When Sana called for help, Fiona immediately knew a fight was on hand. She didn't know who exactly these men were, but the village was obviously in danger now, and she felt compelled to act. Drawing her blade, she was one of the first out the door, searching for a foe to cut off and engage.

She didn't have to look very hard. A well-built mercenary in leather armor moved straight for her not long after she stepped outside, a heavy broadsword in hand, his other hand free. Immediately Fiona made the judgement to dodge rather than block; his swings were heavy but slow. She avoided the first slash and immediately went on the offensive, lashing out with quick strikes from her lighter blade. Her pressure was relentless, giving him no time to return strikes between her attacks, and she was soon forcing him away, towards the side of the inn.

Her blade work was superior to his, and soon she landed a quick slash to his sword hand when he missed a block, severing two of his fingers. The mercenary dropped his sword and roared in pain, Fiona following up her attack with a slash for his face. He leaned back, but not enough to avoid getting cut by the edge across his lips and nose. He spun away and stumbled several steps back, dripping blood down into the street.

Fiona was just about to press her advantage when the mercenary pulled a small, one handed crossbow from his back with his uninjured hand, the weapon already loaded. He didn't take long to aim, but she was an easy target this close, and the bolt ended up hitting her in the midsection, near her left hip. She gasped, staggering a step backwards, the mercenary rushing at her, dropping his crossbow. She made an overhand strike for him, but was too slow, and he caught her wrist, his missing fingers sending blood dripping along her arm. His other hand went to grab the bolt, painfully twisting it, and Fiona cried out, struggling to extricate herself.

His weight pressed her backwards, and she was unable to hold her ground, instead being forced away until her back slammed against the wall of the inn, the crossbow bolt still digging in agonizingly. The back of her head hit the wall hard enough to daze her, and Fiona slid down to the ground on her side.

"Stupid girl," the mercenary thug said, looming over her, "shouldn't have tried to fight." Injured though she was, Fiona was hardly out of the fight just yet, as he would soon find out.