[center][h3]Motley Three[/h3]
[b]5:30 PM, Last Seed 16
Evermore Castle Cellars[/b]
[sub]with [@Frizan] and [@Hank][/sub][/center][hr]

The kitchen basement was no small reprieve from the stifling air of the boxes – poor Piper, the young Imperial woman who tumbled out onto her face, who made Saddi think it might be funny to kick his grandfather’s crate over, but instead found Dar’Jzo aptly and dexterously rolling out of the crate and immediately found his footing. His feline eyes immediately scanning the dark surroundings of the room, quickly adjusting to the dim candlelight as he made mental notes of possible exits, hiding places, and improvised weapons. Some of the crates had their tops peeled off, and he observed the debris on the ground – some ingredients were going to be used more than others. Potatoes and onions were likely candidates if he felt compelled to poison a stockpile. The smell of food from the kitchen wafted down through the floorboards above, and he listened carefully for any footsteps or conversation.

Even as Saddi helped Cilo free Narzul from the confines of his own crate, he watched his grandfather with a sense of estrangement – this was not a side to him that he was used to seeing.


The Redoran warrior emerged from the crate with a scowl fit to chastise the gods themselves. This was easily the most humiliating thing to have ever happened to him and he bade the young Khajiit, whatever his name was, to maintain a respectful distance with his baleful glare. Narzul straightened his armor and checked to see that his sword was in place. He opened his mouth to speak when he was rudely interrupted. 

"What have we here?" The muffled and indeterminable voice of one figure spoke, spooking the mercenaries and prompting them to turn around. "Seems like someone's been playing spy in the dark."

"Who are you working for, huh? Bellemont? Prince Narcisse? That bastard Everard?" The first one stepped forward menacingly, one hand brushing aside their cloak slightly to reveal leather armor and sword.

One of the mercenaries started to say something, but Dar’Jzo, slowly reaching for a dagger on his belt, set off the second cloaked figure. The cloak flew off in a swoosh, and the masked, leather armored figure beneath unsheathed a steel sword. The first figure reacted similarly, but with an additional wave of their hand, four more near-identical combatants emerged from the doorway.

"We won't allow espionage under her grace's nose." It was now hard to tell which one said those words, but all of them were eager to fight. "You better surrender now, before we kill you!"

Saddi threw his hands up in surrendering gesture, but the first figure’s gesture to invite the four others sparked a familiar twinkle in his eye. He looked to Dar’Jzo, and though his expression was stoic and unreadable as always, he knew that his grandfather was trying to come up with a plan – his eyes were glancing about, assessing not just the strangers, but also his environment and his allies beside him. Saddi glanced between the cloaked men and Dar’Jzo, looking nervous, but he spoke to his elder in his native tongue of Ta’agra – he was certain that these strangers would not know.

[i]“Dro’ahnurr. The four were illusions.”[/i] He whispered.

Dar’Jzo’s ear perked. Indeed? Then it seemed that his grandson’s pursuits were not time spent wasted. He glanced to both his sides – to Piper and to Narzul – and slowly raised his hands as Saddi did.

“Between death or surrender, this one says we surrender.” Dar’Jzo said simply.

When Cilo began to object, Dar’Jzo silenced him with a harsh hiss; but as he did so, his ear twitched, and the men ahead of them would not notice the end of his tail flicking in the darkness behind him – nor the fact that Dar’Jzo had never retracted his claws, though he was not sure if they knew if he [i]could[/i] retract them. He simply hoped that the other two would catch and understand his cues and follow suit, allowing the strangers to approach before striking.

Narzul was clever enough to figure something was up, even though he had no way of knowing what Saddi had deduced. He knew what a Khajiit with a plan for disobedience looked like, however, and the Dunmer too slowly raised his hands. Inwardly, he cursed. Was he really following the lead of a cat? He'd been so relieved to hear Do’Karth deserted, but apparently there was no end to the furry n'wahs among the company. 

It took every ounce of willpower she had not to scream some form of obscenity at Dar’Jzo. Oh how she wanted to bring out every khajiit-specific slur her ears had picked up over the years, to throw each and every one at the cat like an array of knives. To Piper’s great chagrin, the men attempting to apprehend their party were a much bigger concern. “Fucking whoresons…” she muttered, one hand over her mouth trying to hide the driblets of blood leaking between her lips. She didn’t even have a weapon handy. Her dirk, during the Imperial’s unladylike tumble out of the thrice damned box she was kept in like a packet of saltines, left her grasp and was scattered several feet away. Her sword and armor were in another crate. 

Piper gave a glance to Dar’Jzo. She had an inkling about what he intended, but it did not raise her confidence in the fuzzy bastard. “If this goes to shit, they won’t get the chance to wring your neck, cat…” Reluctantly, Piper raised both her arms in surrender as she spat out globs of crimson onto the ground.

The man before them quickly approached to apprehend Dar’Jzo, who was in the center and seemed to speak for the rest, while the other moved behind them, while the men from the shadows seemed to stand at the ready. When the first cloaked stranger went to grab Dar’Jzo by the wrists, the khajiit with his sleight of hands grabbed him first and dug his claws into the flesh of the stranger’s wrist, causing him to drop his weapon. With a swift pivot of his feet a second later, Dar’Jzo held the stranger’s sword-arm firmly locked behind his back, twisting him in such a way that his vulnerable torso was aimed towards Narzul. His fluid movement must have disguised the motion of his other hand, for he simultaneously unsheathed the blade from above his tail and threw it toward the stranger approaching Piper. The second stranger flinched, and threw his arms up to take the sharpened edge of the dagger to his upper bicep. Though the khajiit didn’t immediately incapacitate anyone, he had set his allies up perfectly to finish the job.

It took a moment for Saddi to process everything that happened within the last second, not anticipating his grandfather to move with such fluid precision and barely any wasted energy. His surprise was replaced with a sense of urgency as he noticed the four illusions beginning to close in on Dar’Jzo’s back, who in the midst of the chaos spared a quick glance towards him. Saddi responded with mystical incantations and the spiraling motions of his hands before pointing his finger at the illusions -- on two of them, Saddi failed to pass the spell save DC, but the other two were dispelled with their forms shimmering as they were snuffed out of existence, filling him with a sense of smug satisfaction as he glanced toward Cilo.

Piper was amazed by the Khajiit’s grace. No movement was without purpose or intent, and he guided his body expertly. She hardly even saw Dar’Jzo draw the knife, it seemed that all of a sudden something was flying through the air at her assailant from nowhere. Piper was struck something between dumb and awe, and her face, now without the helmet to disguise it, showed it clearly. 

The unsteady shuffling of the man in front of her broke Piper out of her trance. He was reaching for the knife in his arm, trying to pull it out. She was more than happy to assist.

The Imperial seized the grip of the blade with one hand, tearing it out savagely, and delivered a strike with her palm to the stranger’s chin with the other. While he was recoiling from the blow, Piper shoved the dagger into the man’s armpit and yanked it back out with force, setting off a bellow of pain from him.

What started as agonized bawling turned into a vengeful growl. The man began to lunge at Piper, his one good arm fishing for his sword. She lost control of herself. Instead of striking him with a fatal blow with the dagger, Piper let out a scream of her own, a primal shout of fear and anger, and punched her attacker square in the middle of the face with her fist, fingers wrapped tightly around the grip of her weapon. He stumbled backward, rivers of blood draining from his nostrils, and finally fell to the ground with a moan.

With her heart beating wildly and her breaths near uncontrollable, Piper dropped the dagger and soon fell to the ground herself, tripping backwards over her own feet as she retreated.

Meanwhile, Narzul’s honed instincts launched the dunmer into action the moment Dar’Jzo made his first move. Thinking the cat would make a suitable distraction, he turned his back for just a moment to retrieve his ebony blade from the crate he was stuck in before. With no time to don his shield, he grabbed the sheath of his sword and flourished his draw in anticipation of parrying an oncoming blow -- only to find that their foes were either already grappled or momentarily incapacitated by his allies. He didn’t think for a second to appreciate or observe the old khajiit’s preternatural agility or the greenhorn girl’s grit and spunk, there was only the opportunity for merciless glory before him. He dropped the sheath in his other hand, and with both hands firmly grasping the grip of his longsword, lunged forward with a powerful thrust and his eyes like two cold rubies, his focused mind quiet save for two familiar words: [i]become dust.[/i]

Dar’Jzo had all the time in the world to prepare for Narzul’s follow-up, so when he saw the dunmer preparing to land the finishing blow, the khajiit pushed the man off of himself before firmly planting his boot against his back and kicking him abruptly forward onto Narzul’s blade, who, with all his strength, raised him into the air a few inches and his blood poured over his hands. The combined forces made the blade slide through his armor like butter, and the sickening, bloody squelches of rupturing organs and cracking bone signaled the stranger’s death knell. The veteran tossed him off his blade with contempt, and with that one’s death, the two remaining illusions vanished, mere inches away from striking at Dar’Jzo’s rear.

Dar’Jzo looked to Piper, who was clearly flustered within the throes of her adrenaline rush -- but she got the job done, though perhaps not as thoroughly and cleanly as he would’ve liked. The yelling and snarling could have attracted attention, which would defeat the purpose of being here. The man was still alive, if on the edge of consciousness and close to bleeding out. The old khajiit narrowed his eyes, as if he didn’t trust that the man would truly stay dead. So he walked over to the body, raised his foot, and callously stomped down onto his throat -- another sloppy squelch of gore followed, before a grinding twist of the foot snapped the bone in his neck, prompting Saddi to cover his mouth to hide his shock and repulsion. Was this truly his grandfather?

 The stranger’s hands went limp around Dar’Jzo’s ankle and the light in his eyes quickly faded. The assassin turned his gaze to Piper.

“This one hopes the smooth-skin’s screaming did not alert the castle.” His gravelly voice grumbled. “That would be unfortunate.”

All of the blood being pumped through her body during the struggle seemed to have all gone to Piper’s face. She could feel a hot wave pour over her cheeks, and with no helmet to disguise it, it only intensified her embarrassment. She felt so ashamed and humiliated she could have almost cried, and she heard only judgement in Dar’Jzo’s voice, while Narzul paid no attention to her whatsoever. 

A sheepish, pouty frown had found itself screwed onto Piper’s face as she climbed to her feet, the cat’s dagger she dropped loosely in her hand. She held it out to Dar’Jzo, eyes averted. She couldn’t stand to look at any of them, having thoroughly emasculated herself in front of all the others. “This is yours.” She said quietly.

Dar’Jzo accepted the dagger shook the blood toward the side, his stoic face still fixed on the younger imperial woman. It was an odd sight, to say the least, to see the hot-headed girl so self-conscious. At a time like this, there wasn’t much time for it. However, the paternal side of him didn’t say anything about it -- it was probably the most generous thing he could do, even if casual glances from Saddi and Cilo off to the side saw him as callous. Dar’Jzo looked at the dagger, inspecting it for any damage to the edge of its blade, only to become preoccupied with the thought of how effective she would’ve been if she had a different weapon. He didn’t know Piper very well, but she didn’t seem the type to be especially proficient or even satisfied with a little knife.

The khajiit kneeled down and undid the baldric to the scabbard of Piper’s opponent. It was a little short -- likely a shortsword, but it was serviceable enough for their needs. Standing back up, her approached Piper wordlessly, his hand extended with a serviceable weapon being offered to her with only a nod and grunt to repay the gesture Piper had paid to him just moments ago. Such was the way the Baandari had taught him -- a gift must be returned in kind.

“Thank you.” Piper said, following several seconds of silence as she examined the blade. It was simple, with little ornamentation, which suited her just fine. It did seem quite worn, however, and if she had the time and a sharpening stone she would have touched it up a little. In the end it was still a blade and still sharp, sharp enough to cut open flesh reliably. Her brother spent more time with shorter blades than she did, but Piper could use them just fine. It always helped to carry a backup, anyways. She fastened the borrowed weapon to her own belt and left Dar’Jzo with a small bow, hunting down the crate that held her equipment.

Piper scowled as the select pieces of armor she was able to fit in the box came tumbling out clumsily. They had gotten jumbled during the journey, a mess of the neatly packed parcel she had left them as. She was able to bring her cuirass, greaves, gauntlets, vambraces and of course, her helmet. No warrior goes anywhere without proper headwear; those who did were not warriors for long. How she would have loved to have it after making a fool of herself…

“Cilo,” she called out to her fellow Imperial. “Help me with my armor.” She sat silent for a moment before finally adding a quick “Please.” 

The man was quicker than she thought he would have been; he had no troubles with the straps and fasteners. She was certain she would need to walk him through every step, but there she stood in her plate just a few moments later. Reunited with her shield and longsword, Piper felt much more comfortable.

“Are we ready?” She asked, her voice reverberating within her helm.

“Hmph,” came Dar’Jzo’s affirming grunt. He had just collected his quiver of arrows and finished testing the draw weight of the shortbow. It was fine as it was, since the dwemer longbow he inherited from the company’s late Roze was likely going to be too cumbersome in the narrow hallways. Mobility trumped anything else here, and he wasn’t going to need to be doing any long-range sniping. He met the cautious and fretful glances of Saddi, who was still staring at him as one would to a dangerous stranger, but then just glanced towards the others. Narzul had finished getting his own affairs in order before nodding to the others.

“Let’s get to it, then.” The dunmer declared. “Khajiit--” He began to say, before realizing there were two of them -- he barely acknowledged Saddi while in the midst of the more capable Dar’Jzo. Given what he has seen of that one’s skills, he’d be the one best fitted to scout ahead. “Elder one,” he clarified, “take point.”

“We’ll stay behind then.” Saddi pitched in. “Cilo and I will watch over the exit.”

And so they dispersed. With Narzul’s might and tactical expertise, Dar’Jzo’s cunning and agility, and Piper’s grit and tenacity, although motley, surely there was nothing that could stand in their way.