[h2]Combat Upon the Hill[/h2]
[hr]

Daixanos lowered his bow, having seen the archer foolishly getting within the firelight near the Inn entrance. Perhaps the fool had been driven there by whatever masters that commanded them. It mattered little, for there were still many archers left aiming at the battle down below. His cover had not yet been revealed, and he would keep it that way until just before the kill... 

The night was only lightly illuminated by the distant fire and the pale moon, and the rise at which the varied groups of archers fired volley after volley was easy to spot if one did not have both a fire and battle between them, as Jorwen and those below. Swift and silent as a stalking wolf, the Saxhlee made his way around the archer's flanks. He knew his companions below were skilled, but it only took one well placed arrow to end the life of a great warrior. 

Slipping through a dense copse of trees and over a rocky crest, he leaped down and crouched. Before him were Four archers, one of the smaller groups near the others over the rise. As he watched, one shot an arrow that nearly took out one of his companions. The man that had missed swore, and began to grab for another arrow. He received one, but not in the way he expected. 

The man cried out in pain as an arrow thudded into his back, jutting out of his chest cavity. He fell onto his knees as blood spurted out of him. The other three jumped and spun, fumbling for their bows. Dax's assault was swift, for he knew he couldn't win an archery fight against these three without time, and time he did not have with their reinforcements so close. He dropped his bow, and his Axe was out. 

The second Archer did not turn around with his weapon ready in time, Dax's powerful shoulder rush sending this Mer practically flying over the rise to skid and roll down the hill. He wasn't dead, but he was out of the fight for now. Unfortunately, an arrow pierced Dax's shoulder blade, the furthest archer to the right now doing his best to get another arrow. Dax's axe spun. The Khajiit closest to him ducked and whipped out a sword, eyeing the Argonian ranger with barely suppressed disdain as his comrade fumbled for another arrow. "This one thinks it would be wise for you to accept death." 

Dax did not speak, giving a thrust of his Axe head that the Khajiit dodged, who in turn sent a thrust of his own at the Argonian. The other archer had now nocked an arrow, but could not rightly fire while the Saxhlee and Khajitt fought in such close quarters, and decided to take out a dagger and enter the fray as well. 

Dax blocked an overheaded chop from the Khajiit's curved sword, pushing his opponent back and then swinging his Axe wildly to keep the Mer from stabbing him from behind. Suddenly it seemed very much that Dax was in a desperate attempt to survive, and he very well should have been normally. But he was nothing if not calculating and resourceful, and he could see they saw their own advantage too, which brought a sense of arrogance he would now exploit.

Dax suddenly spun, fluidly blocking the slash of the Khajiit with his Axe haft. The Mer predictably went in for the kill from behind, but had not counted on Daixanos' alligator-like tail. The Argonian's spinning momentum not only allowed him to block the Khajit, but his tail clubbed into the Mer's chest. If one had thought the shoulder rushed man had been sent flying, they would be in for a treat. The surprise and pain on the Mer's face as he disappeared down the hill was comical to the say the least. 

The Khajiit stabbed forward, swift as a snake, and his blade bit into Dax's hip. But his thrust was half hearted, for he never recovered from the surprise of his suddenly lost companion, and Dax's blade quickly cleaved through his collarbone. He died with a gurgle of blood. 

Suddenly, there were no more enemies on this part of the rise, and Dax felt the full weight of his injuries. He gritted his dagger-like teeth and yanked the arrow out of his shoulder. The Hunter had felt worse, but he knew he couldn't fight the way he just had again without serious risk. His hip and shoulder would take less time to heal than Mer or Man, but at the moment he was in no condition to fight for any length of time. 

In truth, he had not done much. Two archers were down the hill and another two dead, and judging by the shouts in the distance of those that had heard his combat, there were more to come. 

He did not lament however. His goal was to draw them from firing at the Inn, and he knew that task was still not yet completed. Using all of his pain and his rage, he let out a howling roar to further grab the attention of the other archers that were now closing in. Stray arrows began flying towards his direction from the dark, and he quickly fled with his Axe and bow, letting them chase after a ghost and keeping them preoccupied. 

For the time being.