[i]Spoops and I wrote dis[/i]

It was in the middle of conversation, one that had turned unexpectedly pleasant following their rocky introduction. As Wylendriel's small frame fought hard against the resistance of the much larger khajiiti woman's arms to no avail, the warrior's words were able to reach through the panicked haze that had enveloped her mind: " I don't give a shit if you think you're good in a fight, you're more useful to more people if you don't get caught up in a fight that's over your head. The Argonians trust you and you're a healer, that makes you uniquely valuable to this town. Go!"

At first it fanned the flames of her temper. It was frustrating being denied what she wanted, but as she gave it further thought, she was able to calm down and control her breath. A chill crawled up her spine, and the memory of the awful daedric laugh followed her like a bad itch. She felt troubled by how quickly and easily she lost control of her emotions, but despite that and despite the desire to pursue the murderer remained, Khazki was right. She had her own job to do. The priestess nodded hesitantly to her, then turned on her heels and ran swiftly towards the opposite direction with the picture of Ashav clear in her mind. Her feet pounded against the rocky ground, kicking up dirt with trademarked wood elven speed. She focused on her commander's face. Perhaps that way, she could try ignoring the alien thoughts in her head that wished for her comrade to leave enough of the assassin left for her.

The priestess' mad sprint brought her to the front of Ashav's tent by the docks, where she ripped open the front curtain gasping for breath.

"Ashav...! Ah... Ashav!" Wy cried out, her chest heaving with each gulp of air she took.

[I]I'm in need of better guards, it would seem.[/I] Ashav thought bitterly, his eyes refusing to open as he was roused from the sleep he did not recall setting himself down for. "I trust there is a reason for you barging in here uninvited." He remarked, his mouth tasting acidic thanks to how dry it was. He needed water. 

"The... the assassin!" She blurted out. "They're in the White Hall! Khazki and a few others went in after them!"

That jerked the Redguard awake, he sat up and headed to grab his sword. "Come, lead me the way. Are you certain?" he asked. He didn't trust the Khajiit's judgement, but if she was right...

"There were two dead guards right outside the door." Wylendriel simply said as though that was proof enough. She peeled back the entrance of the tent for her commander to follow. She continued, "The jarl is in danger either way."

Given the circumstances surrounding what had been happening in Dawnstar recently, it was not something that could be afforded to be ignored. Ashav followed Wylendriel out of the tent, his heart, and head, pounding. Both arrived at the White Hall in short order, where a crowd has begun to be gathered. A Redguard that Ashav did not recognize was carrying a slumped form over his shoulder, flanked by either side by the two hot-headed new warriors he'd recently taken in his employ, the Khajiit Khazki and the sister of Sagax, Piper. Khazki was wounded, but none of them seemed to be on particularly high alert; the threat was evidently apprehended. "What happened?" Ashav demanded, moving around to look at the unconscious Dunmer. "Is this the one responsible? Where is the Jarl?"

"Dead. She got him before we could stop her. Nearly got me, too." Khazki winced, her shoulder still suffering from having had a blade buried in it. Wylendrel looked at her wound and made a mental note to take care of her soon, but first she approached the redguard carrying the assassin. She mostly ignored him and instead grabbed the unconcious dunmer by the hair and lifted her head to take a good look at her face. The priestess' face twisted into a disgusted scowl. She took a deep breath and let go, stepping away without a word.

"Get the assassin to the dungeon. I want her guarded by our people, since the guardsmen will likely not take the news of this with good faith." The Redguard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his alcohol-induced headache pounding his skull. "There's no way to keep the news from spreading, is there?" he asked rhetorically, looking around at the gathered populice. A fuse had been lit. 

"Unless you want to cover up a jarl's murder." Wy said sardonically, looking over at the distasteful, bloody mess slumped in the corner of the longhouse. Her face softened and looked back at Ashav. "If you wish, I can hold a public ceremony for the jarl and say his final rites after I finish treating Khazki. The nords will want to honor their dead."

Ashav nodded, heading back towards the exit of the Hall with his mercenaries in tow. "There will be no cover-up, it'll only make the wound fester. Find whichever local priests you can, we'll ensure all of the dead are treated with dignity. It would do Dawnstar well to see calm and decency prevail. I will see if there's anything to be done about leadership in the meantime, it is paramount we maintain order. Go to it."

The priestess nodded obediently and looked over to her wounded cohort, and as she walked over to the steps in front of the White Hall, she sat down and said, "Khazki, let us take care of you first."

"I'm fine." The Khajiit replied, glancing quickly at the Bosmer before darting her eyes elsewhere. She wasn't. "Don't worry about it." she said, her own hand covering the wound, the magicka ebbing between her fingers and the blood that had seeped through and into her fur. It wasn't easy keeping focus on one's own spell when you were dealing with a fresh puncture wound. "Didn't Ashav give you a job to do?" she asked dryly. 

"I told him I would do it after I finish treating you." Wy asserted. The tone of her voice sounded harsher than usual. "Sit down. [i]Now.[/i]"

Khazki stared back with a slow, tired blink. "You know I just got stabbed by an assassin who murdered the Jarl, right? It's going to take more than a teacher's tone with me to make me take you seriously right now. I've got bigger shit to deal with."

The priestess got back on her feet, biting her lips and closing shut one of her eyes as her head was now throbbing as she fought to keep herself and her thoughts in check. She was already frustrated over not finding the assassin first. Now she had to deal with this without snapping. The taste of blood filled her mouth as one of her teeth cut the inside of her lip, and the sting of pain brought her back. Wy took a deep breath. She had to do something before she loses it.

"Ashav understands that my job, first and foremost, is to fix up ungrateful oafs such as yourself... before your wounds get infected and your arms fall off and you can no longer swing your over-sized letter-openers!" The priestess huffed and extended her hand, which over the course of her ranting, was now surrounded by an onimous aura of green. "So if you won't sit down, I'll have to make you."

Khazki rolled her eyes. "I doubt you could even make a dog sit, but if it makes you stop shrieking like a vulture, fine. I accept your help." She said, reluctantly setting herself down with her good arm on the steps. "You know, for a priestess, you're kind of a bitch."

"Sounds like the pot is calling the kettle black." Wy retorted, the green glow around her hand now dissipating. She looked at the source of the bleeding, which was between the plates of Khazki's armor. It was a long, deep cut, but not very wide. The assassin had a thin blade. It was incredible that they were able to slide it through that small of a space. Her finger wouldn't even be able to fit in there. She started taking off the pauldron off of Khazki's by undoing the straps as she had so many times before on Dominion soldiers. She looked back up and said, "You know, usually it's only children who complain about doctors."

The Khajiit let the woman take her pauldron off, not feeling particularly comfortable with the sensation of being left vulnerable to the priestess. "It's usually the children who have a reason to be afraid of the clergy. I never pretended to be a nice person; I don't offer the Divines as an empty comfort when they're sick and dying. That's your job, I suppose." She winced, gritting her teeth together. "Speaking of which, how bad?"

[i]'I hold her life in my hands.'[/i] The priestess shook her head.

"I've seen worse." She responded. The injury was ugly and deep, and the blade probably got caught in the joint which must've been why she had such trouble moving it - but it wasn't a death sentence or anything. Still, the warrior might be feeling aches and pains for a while even long after it was healed. Wound didn't seems to have any discoloration, so she probably wasn't poisoned, but she had to cover her bases. Wy asked, "Do you know if the assassin was using any poisons?"

Khazki shook her head, staring up towards the evening sky with countless dazzling stars, probably with worlds with their own problems. Bad luck was universal, wasn't it? "Doubt it. If that were the case, I'd probably not have a clear head right now or be feverish. I imagine assassins would use something that's quick acting so their victims don't have a chance to get medicine."  She sighed, trying to ignore the fact rumours were already flying in the town. "This whole situation is just going to get worse. Skald was an awful leader, from what I understand, but even a bad leader is still something that people can focus on and count on for some kind of direction. I've seen what happens when there's a void in times like this. It's not pretty."

"Well... if I know nords half as well as, uh... as well as I think I do," Wy said as she set aside the piece of armor, "then I don't think that's going to stop them. Power vaccums don't last very long here. Skyrim has a long history of, um, trading leadership. They've pulled through every time."

The priestess' hand was suddenly surrounded by a warm, restorative light and was placed against the open wound in Khazki's shoulder. The spell slowly tailored the wound shut as it stitched together the strands of muscle back over the bone and the skin regenerated overtop. [i]'Another indebted soul.'[/i] She looked back at the khajiit's face with a steely expression and said simply, "You are going to be feeling some aches and pains for a while after this. Especially if it's cold. On the bright side, you'll know if it's about to rain."

"I always wanted to be a barometer. Thanks." Khazki replied, testing the motion of the arm. It was leagues better than it had been. "I can deal with a bit of pain; it's much better than it was." The Khajiit wished for a drink at that moment, realizing it was where they left off before the evening's event happened. "Let's find our way to that tavern, and look... I'm sorry you weren't there to stop Skald from getting murdered, for what it's worth, I'd rather be the one to have taken the blow than you. I don't think anyone could have gotten there in time."

Wylendriel was quiet for a somber moment like she was buried deep in her thoughts. The next, she faced her with a look of acceptance, a drastic change from the troubled attitude she was displaying earlier. "There's nothing any of us can do in the end. The cycle of life claims us all, no matter the means." The priestess looked at her hand and how they were stained and reeking with Khazki's blood. She disinterestedly rubbed her fingers together to get some of the old, stained, outer layer of skin off. Peering back up, she said matter-of-factly, "After I prepare a proper nord funeral for Jarl Skald, I'll see what I can do to help... [i]tempt[/i] the assassin into helping us... if you're interested in joining me. I'd assume you have a vested interest in repaying the favor?"

Khazki shook her head. "After spending a few years on the road, you don't hold grudges. I've lost track of the number of people who've tried to kill me, and I imagine there's more than a few out there who extend me the same courtesy. She did her job, I did mine. There's more fights to come, and right now, I want to make sure I'm ready for it." Rising up, her body aching and sore now the danger had passed, Khazki was ready to turn in for the night after she managed to find some grub. "If you want my advice, don't get involved in whatever's going to happen to that Dunmer unless you're ordered to. You probably don't want it on your conscious, and even if you did, it won't make you feel any better." With that, Khazki stepped away with a lazy wave of thanks and decided to leave the remaining troubles for tomorrow's Khazki.