[center][h3]Stone and Sand[/h3]
[sub]featuring the lovely [@Amaranth][/sub][/center]

[i]Afternoon, 1st of Midyear, 4E208
The Three Crowns Hotel, Gilane, Hammerfell[/i]

Mazrah had ditched the (now bloodied and torn) robe that Nanine made her wear in an alleyway long before they even reached the [i]Three Crowns Hotel[/i] again, and proudly sashayed into the refuge of Gilane’s resistance with her tattoos once again on display. Nanine tended to her injuries while Brynja saw that Judena was taken care of, and after that Mazrah was left to rest and recover. Someone had fetched a bed for her and placed it in the room that she shared with Brynja, Rhona, Raelynn and Daro’Vasora. It had felt beyond satisfying to finally bring the fight to the Dwemer, even if it was in such a covert (read: cowardly) manner and she slept soundly.

Her mind wandered the next day and she found herself thinking of the Redguard girl that had escaped with them. Mazrah had noticed that she had been capable of holding her own once she got ahold of a sword, but she still felt an almost sisterly urge to seek her out and make sure she was okay. There was no way that the girl should have been alone on that prisoner cart. It was wrong, and she spat a curse in the Dwemer’s names because of it. 

Asking around for the whereabouts of the girl, Mazrah learned that she was staying in her own accomodation on the hotel’s grounds and she set off to find the Redguard there. “Hello?” she asked upon arriving and knocked on the door. “Is anyone there?”

Shakti opened the thin door to the small room (it was more like a closet) that the owners had allowed her to use for the time being. Apparently it was where the maids stayed. The door revealed the Orsimer woman who had played some part in her rescue from the wagon. Only she was nearly nude. It’s not like her own clothes were in better shape, her robe was missing its sleeve now thanks to the chop to the forearm she had received a day(ish) ago. Shakti did her best not to judge or to stare as she tossed her replacement sword (which she was cleaning) onto her bedroll. “Greetings to you, Orc. You have my eternal gratitude for helping to free me.” She followed her thanking with a short bow. Satisfied with what her Father would see, she moved on, “So, anything you need?” 

Flashing a grin and waving her hand dismissively, Mazrah chuckled. “Don’t mention it! Being afforded the opportunity to stab a few Dwemer in the throat was reward enough for me. And I don’t need anything from you, really. I just came to see if you were…” She paused, a little awkward, and shrugged. “Well, if you were okay, you know? I’ve seen that you can handle yourself in a fight, but it still doesn’t seem right that a girl your age was stuck on a prisoner transport like that. My name is Mazrah, by the way. What’s yours?” 

Shakti grinned at her grin, although she was not sure what was so funny. “That is kind of you to do. I am not that young though.” She brushed some of her messy hair with her fingers so that it stood up. “My name is… well you can call me Shakti. I have other names but you might find them hard to pronounce. It is good to meet you Mazrah, and other than this-“ She shook her lacerated forearm and slightly winced, “-I am fine.” 

“Hm.” Mazrah narrowed her eyes as she seized up Shakti again, trying to get a feel for what kind of young woman she was dealing with. “Maybe you look younger than you are. Either way, good to see that you’re still in one piece. You should visit us sometime soon and get that looked at,” she added and pointed at Shakti’s injured arm. “There are a few healers with us that could patch that up in seconds.” Mazrah put her hands on her hips, laughed to herself and shook her head. “Okay, I can’t resist asking: why are you in Gilane all alone? How did you end up on that transport?” 

Shakti winced and smiled an embarrassed smile. “Well…” She began, aware of the absurdity of the next sentence, “I’m looking for someone. And I sooort of got into a duel with the wrong person. And his two friends. I almost beat them too. I ran when the guards showed up, but they ended up catching me.” She shook her wounded arm limply. “Lucky shot.” She smiled more fully this time. “About those healers though, could you point me in their direction? This hurts worse than it looks, I promise.” 

“Come with me, I'll take you to them,” Mazrah said and gestured for Shakti to fall in line next to her. “Who are you looking for? Must be someone important, if you're willing to take on three people by yourself to find them,” she added, blissfully unaware that her prying questions were probably very personal. “I don't mean to imply that you're weak, but it looks to me like you could use some help.” 

The Redguard girl cheerfully took up a place next to the Orcish woman and matched her pace. “I appreciate all of the kindness you have shown me. If there’s anything I can do to help, er, you or anyone around. Just ask. As for who I am searching for…” She brushed her right hand through her messy, windswept hair again, her mind racing through half-calculations of what-ifs and should-Is. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to tell you. You seem trustworthy enough.” She gave a light shrug as a final punctuation to her decision. “I am looking for the man who killed my father. He was a knight, in Sentinel to the north. Both my father and his killer. Whoever it was betrayed my father. The man I fought was a former knight of the same order. He has something to do with it, though I don’t know much more than that. That’s why I am in Gilane. I had my father’s sword with me, but it was taken from me when I was imprisoned.” Shakti opened her mouth to say more but suddenly thought differently and closed it again. 

Murdered. That was bad. There was a distinct difference in Orcish culture between [i]murdered[/i] and merely [i]killed[/i]; one was an act of cowardice, and the other was simply being victorious in a fair fight. Acts of cowardice were intolerable. And to lose a family heirloom as well! Mazrah couldn’t bear the thought of having her mother’s spear taken from her. “That’s rough,” the Orsimer said and shot Shakti a sympathetic smile. “It’s good that you are hunting down your father’s murderer. Vengeance is a sacred duty in matters such as these.” She paused and then added: “At least, it is where I came from. As for your sword… the transport you were on came from the prison. We had another team that infiltrated the prison around the same time we hit the transport. Perhaps one of my allies found your blade. Is it… special? Remarkable, in any way?”

Shakti thought about it for a moment. She supposed her task did boil down to vengeance, though she was loath to think of it that way. It was a matter of honour, not simple vengeance. She was the eldest, the blade of her family fell to her, she had to restore honour to her family by avenging the murder of her father. Perhaps there was more to her task than she had thought previously. Shakti nodded along to the Orcish woman’s comment. It was indeed rough. The sword though, she had not considered the possibility of someone picking it up. It was not overly special. It was only made of steel, not moonstone or orichalcum or ebony. It was finely made but Shakti estimated that it could hardly be called a masterwork. Of course, none of that mattered to her, it was perhaps, her prized possession. “No... I… It is special to me, but I do not think it is particularly remarkable. Except for maybe the curve of the blade. It is straighter and longer than the average Redguard hel but not as straight as a blade of the Cyrods. It has been in my family for generations. Last I saw it, it was lying in a pile of other weapons, I would be surprised if your friends picked it out and took it.” She waved her good hand dismissively. “I will go back to the prison later to look, but first I need to bandage my arm.” Shakti tried to add a confident tone to the first clause as she spoke. She must seem remarkably stupid to Mazrah to want to go back to the place she had just escaped from for a sword. 

“Back to the prison?” Mazrah asked and raised an eyebrow. “I understand that you want to get your father’s sword back, don’t get me wrong, but the guards will be crawling all over that place now that my allies have struck there. I wouldn’t go back just yet.” She saw an opportunity here, though. She was the newest member of the cell and it probably wasn’t even her job to recruit new people, but she figured it couldn’t hurt. “Tell you what: if you join us, I’ll help you find your father’s sword and his killer. You’ve seen what we do. We’re resistance fighters. You believe in a free Hammerfell, right?”

The question was something Shakti hadn’t thought a lot about. The answer was pretty obvious, of course she did, but so far her travels had been solely concerned with her own personal journey. The run-ins with the law and Dwemer were just consequences of doing what she had to do in the name of honour. She thought back to Israhal. He would want her to join this cause. He had practically already tried to get her to join his group. She kind of did join too. Temporarily is what she had told herself. She did a few jobs for them, that’s all. 

Shakti had seen how things were here. The curfews, the detainments. She had seen the patrols in the desert harassing other tribes. And if they were allowing traitor-knights like the one from the inn into the ranks of the guard… Perhaps it was time she stood up for her country. 

“Joining a noble cause such as yours is the right thing to do. I’ll do it.” She nodded as a final affirmation of her words. “Don’t worry about the sword though. I have an idea.” Shakti winked and grinned at the Orc impishly. 

“Finally,” Mazrah said and returned Shakti’s grin, “a Redguard that doesn’t hesitate to defend her own country! I have to say, I was disappointed when the Dwemer first invaded and just… won, you know? Ah well, we’re taking the fight to them now, even if it is all cloak-and-dagger. Welcome to Samara cell. You’ll have to be introduced to the Poncy Man, our leader, but that can wait. What’s this idea you have about your sword?” she asked. Their feet were taking them towards the wing of the hotel reserved for the resistance; even if Brynja, Raelynn or Nanine were busy, there were other healers around who could help with Shakti’s wounded arm. 

“They haven’t won!” Shakti exclaimed, her defensive tone surprising even herself. Perhaps she cared more than she knew. “The desert sands would tear themselves apart before they submitted to the yoke of another empire. We resisted the Aldmeri and we will resist the Dwemeri just the same!” She let out her breath to calm down. “Sorry, I just… Hammerfell is more than just the cities and the Dwemer have barely scratched the surface of the great Alik’r.” 

Mazrah threw her head back and laughed. “That’s the spirit! Okay, you’re right, I take back what I said. But you have to admit that the Dwemer achieved more than the Dominion ever did,” the Orsimer said with a wink. “Don’t worry, we’ll kick them out soon enough. But you still haven’t told me what your idea was.”

Shakti shrugged, “Perhaps.” She didn’t really know how far the Aldmeri had made it. She wasn’t alive back then, but she had heard the stories a thousand times before. “I know exactly where the sword was. I can picture it in my mind. All I need to do is get back into the building and I can be in and out before they know what happened. It will be easy.” 

“Easy? You got captured once before, young lady,” Mazrah said, both amused and chiding. “But if that’s what you want to do, I won’t stop you. Just be careful. This way,” she said and started climbing the stairs that would take them to to the floor of the hotel that housed the resistance. The hotel was obviously made for a slightly shorter race than the Orsimer, and Mazrah had to crouch slightly to prevent the tip of her spear from poking holes in the ceiling as she cleared the steps. “What about the rest of your family? Mother, siblings? How are they?”

“I was wounded! This time I’ll be as fresh as unwalked sand!” Shakti declared, her confidence embellished slightly for Maz’s amusement. The Redguard girl made note of the way they had gone to get to this part of the hotel, having never been up to the second floor. The question of her family brought a tinge of sadness to her breast. “I have not seen them for a year or more. My mother leads the tribe. I have a younger sister and younger brother, I’m the oldest. I hope to see them again someday, hopefully successfully.” 

Mazrah smiled and shook her head in mock derision at Shakti’s words. She liked the girl; the Redguard was sympathetic and strong-willed. The Orsimer resolved to keep an eye out for her and to keep her promise to Shakti. “Your mother leads the tribe,” Mazrah repeated and the approval was evident in her voice. “She must be strong. I miss my mother too, sometimes,” she said, taking note of the sadness on Shakti’s face. “She taught me everything I know. Greatest hunter Orsinium has ever seen. I have no doubt that we will both return home with tales of glory and victory one day, to impress our mothers with.” Mazrah gave Shakti a playful elbow bump before strutting down the corridor and knocking on the doors. “Hello?” she called out, wilfully insensitive to the private matters people might be attending to inside. “Is there a healer here? We need a healer!” 

One of the doors opened and a middle-aged Redguard woman shuffled out while wrapping her robes around herself, looking at Mazrah with suspicion. Mazrah hadn’t seen her before, but realized she must be one of the other resistance members holed up at the hotel. “What is it?” 

Mazrah pointed at Shakti’s arm. “The girl needs healing. She just joined our cause.” 

The woman’s face lit up with a mixture of excitement and concern. “Oh, excellent! Not that you are wounded, my dear, but -- well, you know what I mean. Come, I will fix that arm of yours,” she said and beckoned for Shakti to follow. 

Mazrah put a hand on her hips and smiled. “I’ll see you around, Shakti.” 

The younger girl liked that idea. Coming home to impress her mother with how she righted the family’s honour and saved Hammerfell in the process. Perhaps she would go and visit Maz’s mother as well. “Thank you Maz, I hope to chat again soon!” Shakti turned back to the other Redguard as Mazrah departed the room. “It isn’t bad, but it does hurt,” she said to the healer as she held up her lacerated forearm, wincing. 

“Child, where did you go and get this? Any deeper and you would have hit bone!” 

“I am not a child! A sword did that, it cut clean through my bracer.” Shakti answered the matron sullenly. 

The older woman clicked her tongue, “Well just hold still.” 

Shakti held her arm up and the Redguard healer held her hand over the wound, warm light radiating from the palm. The hair on Shakti’s arm stood up and she looked away from the wound. Magic was uncommon amongst her tribe and she still wasn’t totally comfortable being around it. Regardless, the tingling feeling wasn’t altogether unpleasant and when she looked back at her arm all that remained was a nasty scar. 

“Whoa! How did you do that?” The genuine surprise in the girl’s words made the matron laugh. “Child, haven’t you seen a healing spell before?” Shakti flushed a slightly redder shade of brown, “Well… no not before now.” The older woman laughed again, “Come back if you need more healing and if you’d like, I’ll teach you a basic healing spell. Could save your life in the field!” 

Shakti bowed to the older woman and rubbed her arm in disbelief. “I am in your debt, [i]no shira[/i].” 

Shakti was off practically before she had finished her bow. She darted down the stairs towards whence she came, stopping only at her room to grab her Dwemer shortblade and fasten it to the back of her belt. Out and down through the hallways again out into the courtyard of the Three Crowns, finally slowing down as she hit the streets and only because it would draw unwelcome attention. First things first. Get back her sword.