[center][h1]A Meeting of Swords[/h1]

A showdown by [@Leidenschaft] and Amaranth [/center]

8th of Midyear, 4e208
Outside the Gaptooth Grin Tavern
Gilane, Hammerfell

And the moons cast light upon blades...

[hr]

It was Sevari’s experience that every city on the face of Tamriel had a slum. He was born in one in Torval and lived his childhood life in one in Senchal. Now, at the age of 43, it seemed like he couldn’t escape the grip of these places. He’d had more septims than he knew what to do with for doing the Empire’s thankless dirty work and no time and nowhere to spend it. He supposed he’d have just that if he decided to put in for a desk job in some Penitus Oculatus bureau in High Rock, but even if he wasn’t chasing vengeance he knew being cooped up in an office would only make him turn his blade on himself.

It was because of this that sitting out front of a lonely tea shop with a decent vantage point down the street of a seedy tavern that wasn’t any different than any other seedy tavern outside of Gilane, he felt most at peace. All he had to do was wait for Farukh to give the signal after leaving just behind this Khesh fellow. An easy enough night if Farukh didn’t run afoul of some group of outlaws for doing them the powerful slight of existing in their presence. For the short time he’d been partnered with Farukh, the man’s loud mouth and cheeky temperament helped him none on that front. He turned and glanced at the grim-faced Imperial dressed in the local garb just like himself. Quintus was everything Farukh wasn’t. That also meant he was a shitty conversationalist.

“You sure we should’ve sent Farukh in there and not you?” Sevari asked.

“Mhm.” Quintus grunted.

Sevari pursed his lips, that was the most he’d heard out of Quintus since they’d met at the rendezvous point a few hours ago. Sevari shrugged, “Alright, then.”

It was a few wordless moments after that an armored man with a wicked looking sword stepped out of the tavern and into the streets, walking in the opposite direction of Sevari and Quintus. Farukh followed soon after and raised the bottle of rum he’d had, laughing loud into the night. No doubt he’d actually had some of it while in there. Sevari wordlessly rose from his seat and pursued the man who was apparently Khesh. He’d have to make this quick, it wouldn’t be long before his cover-duty of being a Dwemer Secret Police lackey would call upon him to do something. He passed Farukh, who slurred out a giggle and nodded at him. Khesh was a good distance in front of Sevari, he didn’t want the man noticing he was following.

Shakti too had tracked the armoured man, following his powder-blue cloak as it billowed in the night breeze. She had followed him, yet again, on one of his pub crawls. This time, however, she was not about to confront him in a tavern. She rubbed the scar on her forearm as the memory of the battle slipped into her mind. She had trailed him from a distance and loitered outside each tavern, periodically peering into the establishments to make sure he hadn’t slipped her. Her own tattered cloak was wrapped around her face like a scarf, partially to hide her face, and partially to keep the cold night air out of it. Shakti had no idea how many dive bars and lounges and corner-clubs there were in Gilane, but this man seemed to know all of them. She needed to find a place to make her move, to find out what he knew. 

The door to the tavern swung open and her mark exited, swaggering along, smelling of alcohol and sweat. Shakti pressed herself against the stone of the building, willing her body to become inconspicuous. She had no idea if the man had gotten a good look at her the last time they crossed blades, but she wasn’t about to take a chance. The knight did not notice her and passed further into the street, followed a few seconds later by another patron who was brandishing a bottle and chortling heartily. Shakti ignored the other man and focused on her target, sliding slowly along the shadows of the other buildings.

Sevari so far had followed unimpeded, eyes scanning the rooftops, windows and the streets before him in between keeping them square on Khesh’s back. Almost suddenly, Khesh rounded a corner into an alleyway, quick enough to give Sevari pause. He looked around the streets, every second more precious than the last. He grit his teeth and decided to follow directly. Had he been noticed? Turning in to an alleyway was a sure way to draw out any tails one might have, but if he was to nab Khesh and figure out his connection to the Caliph’s sons and the plot to put them on the throne again, he was going to have to dive headfirst into this trap.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stumbled through a shit situation armed and armored only with hope. He ducked into the alleyway to find a nice hideaway. A small hut had been fashioned into a makeshift bedroom and a fire was already going just outside of it, stoked by a balding but sinewy-muscled and sharp-featured Redguard. 

Who noticed him almost immediately. “You were followed!?”

Khesh flinched and looked back just in time to see the firebolt cross the distance between the man who’d casted it and the air where his companion had been, the ball of flame passing close enough to singe his face and discomfort his eyes. Surprisingly agile, the balding man beared down on Sevari. The man leapt toward Sevari, unsheathed his sword and made a slash for Sevari’s belly in one smooth and lightning fast movement. With a lifetime of drills and real-world experience behind him, Sevari half-drew his sword from his scabbard just in time for the man’s blade to rake across it instead of his stomach in unthinking reflex. Sevari’s blade cleared the rest of its scabbard, pommel striking the bald man in the teeth and sending him back spitting blood.

Without any time in-between, Sevari sent a thrust off-course from his chest with the flat of his blade, in the same motion redirecting his own sword’s trajectory and opening the man’s neck in a spew of arterial spray that spattered his face and neck like a warm rain. Almost in the same moment, Khesh’s blade was coming at him quick, whistling through the night air, Sevari throwing himself out of the way and putting his palm out before him. A brilliant flash of light blinded Khesh and sent him clumsily swiping at nothing with frenzied and ugly cuts at the air. Sevari now free of the danger, he stepped forward and batted through the most telegraphed swing of a sword he’d ever seen with his own blade. Grabbing up Khesh’s arm and wrenching it over his shoulder, he threw Khesh over him almost effortlessly, knocking the wind from him. Before Khesh’s eyes could readjust to the dark night, a bolt of lightning took the last of the fight out of him, leaving him sprawled and twitching on the ground but alive. Sevari spat off to the side, sniffling and flicking the blood from his blade, “I thought you lot were supposed to be dangerous.”

In a moment almost as quick as the lightning he’d let loose earlier, his shoulders pinched back and he looked over his shoulder at the soft patter of footsteps.

There were flashes of light, grunts, scrapes, the clash of swords. Clearly, something had gone wrong. She had noticed the man she was tracking duck into an alley, followed by another man. Then a shout. That’s when the fighting began. Shakti picked up the pace, not willing to let her quarry die without at least telling her what she needed to know. 

She skidded to a stop outside the alley and peered at the scene that lay before her. Two men lay on the ground, one clearly dead, red pooling at his neck. The other, her target, seemed merely incapacitated. A third man stood, wiping the blood from his blade. “Hey!” Shakti called out, “That man has a lot to answer for, I will not let you kill him!” She puffed the words out in to the cold night air. She had no idea if the other man was going to kill the Knight, but she was not about to give him the chance. She stood, her hand on the hilt of her sword, waiting for the man to make his move. 

Slow as slow, Sevari turned, blade oriented with the point towards the ground and in one hand. He eyed up the girl before him, nothing new to him, honestly. He’d seen every fighter and every assassin there was to see in the twenty-odd years of his life he’d spent mingling among them. His eyes caught on the sword though. It was a thing more elegant, less curved and a blade thinner in breadth than a scimitar. It was a blade closer to the one he used.

And that was all the difference.

It remained to be known if she could use it though. Deciding time was of the essence rather than the much tempting test of his skills against her otherwise unspoken of ones, he spoke simply and plainly, “Put the sword back in its scabbard.” He let a beat pass, considering her in her stance, “Walk away from this.”

Shakti watched him turn around. He seemed calm. Like a sand-viper ready to strike. It reminded her that she needed to watch her own breathing. Control. “I cannot do that. Not unless you are going to hand over that man, alive, to me.” She flexed her hand on her hilt, left hand around the scabbard, coiling her muscles to draw. The cold breeze fluttered her tattered scarf and she exhaled a few deep breaths into the chilly night air through the material. 

He knew better to charge at her blindly. Anyone who wielded a sword of that make, he learned long ago, should be approached cautiously. After all, to how many had he proven that to when they stepped to him with violence in mind? With the pace of a glacier, he shifted one foot just a little more behind him, legs sinking into a loose stance and ready to either pounce in and close the distance as quickly as he could or dance away from a strike this girl could try him with. The breeze sent a chill through him, making him sigh. The point of his sword rose from the ground ever so slowly until he had it behind him, held in a high guard. The length of the blade held at an angle so as not to reveal its true length, its true reach. 

The sound of the crickets were all that broke the heavy silence of the moment, but it did nothing to ease the tension. The moons lit up her blade beautifully, shadows from the fire playing with the lines of her face. Even now, he was reading her every move, and he’d no doubt she was doing the same. 

“I think you know I can’t do that.” He spoke low, eyes never breaking from hers, searching for any tell or any sign she might strike. “Whatever answers you need from him, I’d be more than happy to pass along once I’m through.”

“I really wish you had a better answer.” Came her reply, sword twirling in the cold night air. Finally she settled on an idea. She would test his spirit and have her own tested in return. She slid her right foot in front of her body and tensed her left foot in the back and sprung forward like a snake. “Ki!’ Shakti shouted as she thrust her blade out towards the man’s chest, exhaling her breath as she moved. 

Sevari’s sword came down at an angle, batting away the girl’s sword that was set on biting into his chest. He quickly transitioned into a thrust of his own in an effort to gain some space to work with.

Her thrust parried but still intent on seizing the initiative, Shakti slapped the man’s riposte away but refused to give ground she had gained in her lunge. She returned her sword to its neutral position in her centre attitude. Perhaps it was unwise to corner a dangerous man such as this. The thought had crossed her mind, but she wanted to keep him off balance and with little room to manoeuvre. 

His lip curled in contempt as she foiled his own thrust and returned to her stance. The two gave a moment of silence in their dance, but Sevari was tiring of this already. He wasn’t sure he should leave any more than the one corpse, and who knew who else could stumble upon this little game this little girl was playing. One thing remained to be said, she wasn’t as harmless with that sword as Sevari first thought. With no more time to waste, he sent a downward slice her way to gain back the offensive.

The Redguard girl easily sidestepped the attack, but instead of immediately counter-attacking she merely inched her blade slightly closer to the man. This, combined with her position being shifted slightly to the right meant that to keep Shakti firmly in his centre, he would be forced ever closer to the wall of the alley. Of course it did leave an opening for him to dash past her, but Shakti calculated she could punish him accordingly if he took that risk.

Sevari was growing ever more annoyed. The events of the past few days did nothing to help keep his head, but he was determined to at least have today be a victory. With a growl, he slapped her blade away from himself and made to dash for Khesh. A searing pain cut him short and he stumbled back, wildly slashing to make this girl step back. Finally, Khesh was behind him and so was the exit out of here. The girl came at him again, making a thrust for his face that he leaned to the side against, not having any time to think.

He followed the lean with stepping to the side, thrusting from his hip looking for purchase but only leaving a small push-cut along her side. He held his sword out at the ready to ward any attacks off and chanced a look at himself. It was then he noticed his robes sticking to his back. He didn’t want to think on how bad it was, only the task at hand to worry about. “You’re stumbling into something much bigger than yourself, girl.” Sevari shook his head, “And right now I think you’re on the wrong side.”

The Redguard girl felt her side and grimaced as she realised she had taken a cut through her tunic. She had given as bad as she had got though, which was to say fairly superficially. Still, she felt her temper rise, “Don’t be so quick to predict the future when it is not yet off the loom!” Shakti spit back, “Leave the traitor-knight here and we can be done with this!” She kept her sword-point aimed at him but made no attempt to attack. He seemed to be losing patience, perhaps she could force him to make an error. However, she needed to remain calm and collected to do that. [i]Control, control, control![/i] her mind screamed. Maintain poise! She had read that in an ancient Yokudan scroll. There was no need to be reckless, at least not yet. She still felt the urge in her heart to press the attack, to go for the final cut, but she fought to restrain herself. If she made a mistake now, it meant certain death.

Sevari clenched his jaw, his eyes squinting in anger at the insolence of this girl. One thing he could say was that she was a good swordswoman. He wondered who had trained her, she was able to keep her own against him and he’d been fighting for twenty years. “No. You have far outlasted your stay here.”

With that, a blinding white light emitted from his palm. He scrambled towards Khesh, who was again beginning to stir. This fight had set him back a bit, wondering where Quintus was. He kicked Khesh in the side of the head as he made to get to his feet, dropping him back to the ground with a pained grunt. Just as he slapped his hands onto Khesh’s collar, he heard the sharp crack of a Dwemer rifle. He jumped back with a surprised growl at the sudden loud bang. “Away from the man, now!” Sevari looked at the Dwemer just as the look of recognition spread across his face, “Sevari?”

“I’m working, you fool.” Sevari said, “Get her!”

“Who?” Sevari looked behind him and was met with an empty alleyway. With an annoyed tsk he rose to his full height.

“Just get him, then. Bring him to the Governor’s Palace.” Sevari said.

As the Dwemer soldiers hauled Khesh to his unsteady feet, Sevari turned back to the alleyway. Who was that girl? He’d have to look out for her, if not to ask her what in Oblivion she was doing messing with his mission, just to ask her where she had learned what she knew and who gave her that sword. “Sir?” Sevari stared after where she had probably made her escape from, he heard the Dwemer soldier ask again, a bit louder, “Sir?”

“I’ll catch up. Just go.” He said, following after a few moments of thinking.

A few minutes of running later, Shakti stopped in a darkened sidestreet and bent double to catch her breath. One hand on the pommel of her sword, now safely back in its sheath, the other hand on her wounded ribcage. In between breaths she lifted her tunic up to check the wound. It was lightly bleeding still but it did not look fatal. “Oh good. At least I won’t bleed to death in an alley.” She wiped some of the blood from her side and wiped it on the wall. After all, this was her good tunic, the one she wore on important missions and she did NOT want to have to wash blood out of it. She peeked out into the street to see if she was followed. It didn’t appear so. She rubbed her eyes. They still stung from the bright light that was clearly intended to stun her. Instead, she had heard some commotion behind her and had half turned. The bright flash and the sound of footsteps convinced her it was time to cut her losses and run. Still half-blinded, she had torn down the road as fast as her legs would carry her. 

Exhaling and starting off back towards [i]the Three Crowns[/i], she reassured herself that although she hadn’t managed to get away with the Knight, she had managed to escape with her life. That counted for something, right?