Second Wind

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"There's one patrolling the grounds here - none on the wall that I can see," Myra replied in an undertone. "He didn't look too heavily armed. Broadsword mostly from what I could see. I saw several more on the courtyard at large. I'm hesitant to simply kill him - I'm certain his absence will be noted - but the way I see it, we don't leave this place without a fight in one way or another."

The sellsword huffed and crossed her arms, giving a fleeting look beyond the breach in the wall.

"I'm not sure what we can do. If you're any good with that sling of yours, we might - might - be able to work something out with you on the wall and me down below. You've got the strength to make that thing hurt like hell, I've no doubt about that, but can you hit them from a good distance? Twenty, thirty paces? We may not want to risk close encounters quite yet," Myra's brow furrowed, considering the implications of splitting up; neither of them particularly trusted the other, and moving freely was an easy way to place blame when something inevitably went wrong. "Might be best if we take this together on the grounds, though - you stun them with the sling, I move in to hit them. May get noticed, probably will, but that'll help thin the herd. By the time they notice something's wrong, we'll have gotten a good number of them."

As she spoke, Myra keened her ears for any signs of the guard from earlier approaching them. She could faintly hear the man's footsteps, but they were still receding. They had some time. Casting another glance around the corner, she noted the torch the man bore growing smaller as its carrier trudged away.

"But, either way, we take this one out first, 'eh?"
 
Broadsword. Not a bad weapon to heft, packed a punch both dull or sharp. The key was whether the wielder was a measly warrior wanna-be with the accuracy and muscle definition of a toddler or a skilled combatant with years of swordplay experience under his belt. Either way, they'd have to find out sooner or later. Like Myra mentioned, conflict was inevitable when breaching a bandit hideaway. Much like a hornet's nest, an assault would result in the scattering of the fortress's inhabitants.

When Arilith's slingshot was mentioned she pulled it from where it was tied to her belt. It's wooden handle was wrapped with dull leather to offer a grip. Inside her pocket in a pouch was her ammunition of choice, a few small iron pellets. However, they were currently numbered, the replacement being a handful of smooth stones. She certainly didn't rely upon the sling, but it often made for a great distraction or a ranged weapon for brief encounters. After listening to Myra's propositions she decided, "I'll stay on the ground with you. Sticking together would be better here, I think. I'll give him a good shot and then you can finish them off."

Once this was decided Ari crept carefully towards the torch bearer. Once she was as close as she'd like to be, she slipped behind a crumbling stone pillar in the yard. Taking a knee, the Draconian peered around and gave Myra a last look. When the other sellsword was in position, Ari slipped an iron ball into the sling and pulled back. She squinted as she took aim, holding her breath. Then, the slingshot was loosed. Across the yard the small projectile flew until it connected with the back of the bandit's neck. The reaction was instantaneous. The torch was nearly dropped as the man doubled over, a hand on his neck and a silent curse gracing his lips. He looked shocked to say the least and began to fumble for his sword with nervous hands.
 

Arilith's approach to the bandit underway, Myra began to follow close behind, keeping a safe distance between herself, the Draconian, and the unsuspecting guard. Once they were within decent range, the other sellsword ducked behind cover and readied her slingshot, casting a brief look to Myra. The sellsword nodded and crept upon a flank of the guard, drawing her short sword as she did so. For a split second all was still before a low snap sounded and the guard lurched forward, grabbing at his neck where a nasty welt was no doubt forming. He wheeled around, sword clumsily pulled halfway from its sheath. Before he could so much as cry for help, Myra darted forward, elbowing the man in the diaphragm. They both stumbled over from the force of the impact, landing firmly upon the ground. In quick succession, Myra's elbow slammed into the bandit's torso again, clasped over his mouth to prevent his meek cries from ringing out, and plunged her short sword into his side.

With a bleeding hole spurting out a dark, near-black fluid, the bandit attempted to reach up and strike Myra. The sellsword's blade struck him through the side again. He grunted and bit at Myra's hand clamped over his mouth, teeth sinking into her gloved hand. The leather blocked the pressure of the move, but that was enough to draw a snarl out of Myra. The woman's brow furrowed and twisted the sword, pinning down the bandit with her legs. With one last great shudder the guard went limp.

Moving from the corpse, Myra stretched and straightened herself out, offering a quick glance to her kill. Blood leaked from his lips and the two jagged tears in his side. She jolted to attention and moved to snuff out the torch, sheathing her short sword as she moved along. Digging up earth with her boot heel, Myra kicked the earth over the torch and tamped down. It wasn't ideal, but it did the trick. The sellsword moved back to Arilith from her position behind cover and muttered.

"So far so good, who is our next mark?"

 
With bated breath Arilith watched as Myra assaulted the distracted guard. The two collapsed onto the ground into a heap, Myra perched on top. Now the guard didn't stand a chance, couldn't so much as cry for help or mercy now that the sellsword's hand was jammed against his mouth. Steel burrowed into pliant flesh. Blood, dark and warm, was sure to be blossoming on the man's injury side. Another sword thrust followed. Ari couldn't see quite what the victim was doing, but clearly something to Myra's distaste since the woman released an aggravated sound.

Soon enough the struggling ceased. Myra stood up, revealing the corpse. Some dirt snuffed the torch the bandit guard had been toting. Now Arilith slowly stood up as Myra made her return. The Draconian's long, scaled ears perked up to become held upright. The right ear swiveled to the side, then the left followed. When the other sellsword approached Ari seemingly ignored the question.

Then she raised a finger and pointed to the far corner of the crumbling fortresses' yard. There was a door into a squat building, both of Ari's ears angled in the direction. her eyes closed shut and then opened. "Someone's about to emerge from in there,"she whispered. Then she reached out quickly and yanked Myra's arm, pulling the woman onto the ground behind the crumbling pillar Ari was hiding behind. After a few moments she peered carefully around the cover. Sure enough, another bandit was beginning to depart from the building, foot out the door. Before the man could spy his fallen ally laying on the ground, Ari took aim and loosed her slingshot, having loaded it with a smooth stone. The stone collided with the wooden structure the man had left and resulted in a thunk. Puzzled, the man quickly reentered the building.

"Want this kill or want me to take it?"Ari whispered, sounding more like a frantic hiss. the man would return eventually if they didn't sneak up on him fast enough.
 

"I'll cover you as you head in - we'll take him and his friend and hide them somewhere inside," Myra responded.

Myra wiped the blood from her sword with her sleeve and sheathed the blade, hunching over to draw her knife from where it protruded outward from her boot. The blade was stout enough to hack through armor, weighted at the hilt to be thrown in similar fashion to an axe if she felt so inclined. The sellsword held it readied in her hand now, prepared to hurl it at the awaiting watchman if Arilith required aid. Myra nodded to her companion, stood, and made her way swiftly to the doorway, still cracked ajar. She could catch a glimpse of the man behind the door, his sword drawn - a thin short sword clutched in both hands. Myra glimpsed the sparkle of armor, whether it was chain or plate she could not ascertain, but it would be little help against a Draconian, poisoned swords aside.

With Arilith in position behind Myra, the sellsword reached out and hoisted the door back and hurled her knife forward without thinking: the blade sliced through the air and landed with a firm thunk into a shield hanging upon a wall rack two paces behind the bandit. The man jumped in surprise, taking a moment to glance behind him at the dagger still quivering in its unintended target. In a flurry of motion the bandit swung back to face Arilith, Myra drew her short sword, and another fighter emerged from the doorway on the opposite end of the building.

Dammit.

 
With cautious steps the Draconian followed Myra closely, hands reaching for the blades sheathed at her hips. Her slingshot had been tied to her belt again, ready to be grabbed if an enemy presented themselves at a further distance. For now,she had to rely upon her poisoned blades. This was fine by Arilith, as she was more than proficient with her melee weapons, perhaps more so than her sling shot capabilities.

Once they were paused at the door of the building, Myra hurled a knife in as what Ari thought of as a distraction. An audible thunk reached Ari's ears as the blade sunk into a wooden shield with ease. Inside, Ari could hear the man shuffling for his weapon. When the Draconian burst inside she found the man facing her, a short sword of his own raised at the ready. "Damn,"Ari hissed, not expecting a struggle. To make matters worse, one of her ears raised to catch the sound of another bandit emerging. She left Myra handle the surprise and planned to take her own target down before he could raise a call of alarm.

Rushing forwards with teeth bared and nostrils flared, Ari sent one sword at the man's chest, which was protected by chain armor. The blade slid of the metal surface, the point having not been lined up correctly in a haste. It was no foul though, as it served as a distraction when Ari's other blade thrust into the man's exposed throat.

The bandit began to slump forwards as blood gurgle from the nasty wound, dark blood slapping onto the wooden floor. Arilith caught the man as he fell and lowered him onto the ground, not risking raising any more attention by letting his body fall limp with a thud. Here the bandit lay, writhing in agony as he quickly bled out. A silent scream gripped his features. This death was sure to hurt more than a typical one, the poison from the blade burning him relentlessly. To end his suffering, Arilith crouched down and lined the point of her blade up with his jugular, pushing in hard. The man died almost immediately this way, the squirming having ceased.

Once the deed was done, Ari stood up and began to slink off in Myra's direction to see how she was doing with their surprise guest.
 

"Oye! Dons-" The bandit shouted, cut off mid-sentence as Myra's sword came flashing forward.

The woman, who had held one hand up to amplify her shout, deftly used her opposite hand to deflect the incoming sword strike, attention turning to her assailant. With a touch of despair, Myra noted the brutish square jaw and pointed teeth of a half-born. Dark olive, almost green, skin confirmed the suspicion immediately. The woman smirked, flashing yellowing fangs outlined on either end with jagged, tusk-like teeth and lunged for Myra with a curved long sword. The sellsword ducked beneath the blow only to be struck in the kneecap by a studded boot. She cried out in pain and limped back a full pace before the bandit, recovering from the awkward motion of thrusting and kicking, continued her assault.

Myra parried a sword swipe aimed at her left arm, the orc's prodigious strength jarring the sellsword's arm from wrist to elbow. Fluidly, Myra recovered from the blow and angled herself on the flank of the bandit, foot lashing out to trip her opponent as the orc attempted to reposition herself. The bandit stumbled on Myra's booted foot and swung her blade in a wild arc to keep her opponent at bay. Myra narrowly avoided her throat being slit wide open as the curved sword whistled by, the rush of air grazing her exposed throat. The sellsword stumbled backward and swallowed reflexively, shifting her sword to her left hand. Before the orc could notice the change, Myra's blade had laid open a deep cut through the orc's shoulder. The half-born grunted in pain and stumbled towards Myra, hefting her blade over her head with her healthy arm.

"You bitch," the orc snarled through gritted teeth as her blade came speeding downward.

Myra let go her blade and fell to the ground, darting to the right to avoid the incoming steel. The blade slammed against the floor with a ringing clang. Shifting her weight behind her, Myra leaped to her feet and kicked upward, catching the orc in the arm. The bandit yowled in pain and dropped her blade to the floor, rearing over to face Myra, dim brown eyes ablaze with ire. Myra side-stepped a weighted punch from her opponent and snatched the shield hanging on the rack just in time to block another punch. The orc's fist slammed into the wood and it cracked with an audible snap! Myra's feet scraped against the floor as the blow sent her backward, but in a fluid motion her hand reached out to nab the dagger from the shield as the orc reeled in pain from bloody splinters protruding from her knuckle. Just as quickly, she sent the blade slicing across the orc's torso, discarding the shield to place more weight into the blow. As the blade caught and tore through flesh, Myra shoved in, driving the bandit into the wall. The knife twisted twice back and forth through the orc before she stopped squirming and Myra withdrew from the contact, panting.

"Try to cut my throat," she spat. "I'll cut out your heart."

It was a saying common to the Reach, just never one she had encountered quite so literally before now.

"We'll have company. Soon," Myra added, turning to Arilith. "Question is if we stick it our or sneak around a bit."
 
As Arilith was slinking off to aid Myra, a clattering behind her convinced her to pivot wildly to face the potential threat. In the doorway to the building had rushed another bandit, a tall, lithe figure. His curved ram horns, exaggerated, scaly red ears, and characteristic golden eyes were enough to identify him as a Draconian. A curved sword was brandished by the formidable looking warrior. Both faced off with one another, their narrow tails swishing fluidly in agitation.

Ari was always one to seize the moment, so she lunged forth with one blade thrusting and the other held in a blocking position. As expected, the other Draconian's blade swiped away Arilith's thrusting blade with a hiss of steel. As the sword slid down Ari's thrusting blade, the blocking blade swung forth and struck the forearm of the enemy. Unfortunately, it wasn't his sword arm, but the blow was enough to elicit distracting pain, especially with the acidity of the poison.

In an attempt to distance Ari from himself, the bandit used his height to advantage and sent out one of his long legs. The hard heel of his boot collided with Arilith's gut and sent her reeling back, sucking desperately for the breath she had lost. Her enemy made no mistake of letting her recover and rushed in for another sword strike, deflected by both of Ari's blades with a loud clang. Ari pushed into the blades with her heels dug in, shoving the bandit away to unbalance him. The Draconian bandit stepped back and regained his footing too soon. "Damn. We Draconians are hard to kill,"Ari panted.

"Agreed,"her enemy grunted, glancing at the angry, burning wound on his forearm.

And just like that, the two were back at it again with their dance of blades. Lunge. Deflect. Back off. Fly forth. It was a cycle that was beginning to wear them out. Steel kissed steel over and over again in a clamor sure to drive any nearby people closer to the scene. Arilith had to finish this up fast, growing too close to harm's way as each strike seemed to grow closer and closer to landing on her. She soon found her opportunity.

Instead of stepping back or blocking with her blades when the enemy thrust his blade at her chest, Ari dropped into a crouch and in a flash, sent a swiping kick at the man's legs. One second the bandit was following through with his attack, and the other, he collapsed tail first onto the hard ground. Before he could scramble up again, the sellsword was upon him, both blades plunging into his throat. "Rest in flames, brother,"she hissed a farewell to his dying body. The phrase was more accustomed to the Draconian race, as like full-blooded dragons, many had a love of fire.

Once Ari removed her blades from the man's bloodied throat, she stood up and scanned the area, soon finding that Myra had just finished up a brutal fight of her own. Both were out of breath. "Sneak. We have no way of knowing how many will ambush us,"Ari decided in a haste.
 
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Myra nodded in agreement with the Draconian: no doubt the fortress would soon be buzzing with bandits, and standing and fighting in this small space already littered with three limp bodies would spell disaster. At least if the pair left, they would be able to set engagements on their own terms. Arilith brought up a valid point with the ambushes as well, Myra grudgingly allowed. Any skilled crew worth their salt would simply rally outside the building or scout out the intruders before responding with overwhelming force. In the case of two sellswords (though truly a Draconian was worth at least three, if not more, fighters), "overwhelming" meant at most five or six.

The sellsword cleaned her dagger on her greatcloak, already awash with fresh and drying blood, and stooped to pick up the fallen orc's sword. Its blade curved outward at its tip with a jagged edge towards the hilt. Whereas Myra's own blade was meant to weave and dart around, stabbing more than slicing, this blade highlighted the more brutal tendencies of the orc. Though the blade was short, it was stout, the curved head meant to provide extra weight to hacking-and-slashing motions, the serrated edge designed to saw through armor or bone. A counterweight sat at the pommel to help balance the unwieldy tip. Myra considered it for a further moment then discarded it in favor of her own blade.

Situated now, with her short sword back in its sheath, the human turned to her Draconian companion and met her unnaturally-tinted eyes for a brief moment. So far they had not turned one another in, nor made any move to kill one another, and she had no reason to suspect that would change any time soon. It would have been far too easy for her to intervene and put a blade through her back just moments ago.

"Let's get going, then," Myra finally uttered, voice low. "No point in hiding the bodies here - too much blood."

Hunching low once more, the sellsword drew her dagger and examined the rear entrance to the small structure. Outside there were bustling figures darting in between sections of torch light, distant voices, and the soft clinking of steel laced throughout the quiet din. Immediately to their right stood a section of semi-collapsed wall, which Myra began to creep towards. If they could maintain a higher position, so long as they avoided drawing too much attention to themselves, their ability to react to situations would improve greatly. This segment of wall offered enough handholds by the looks of it.

"Alright, head for the wall," she muttered, offering one fleeting glance back at the doorway. "We'll plan our next move from there."
 
The two sellswords were in agreement. They would play it safe until they could make their move. While Arilith was usually keen to leap into a fight, she could recognize that a missteps could result in their deaths, and she valued her life as any sane person would. This wasn't her usual deal of slashing the throat of a few sniveling thieves, there was a whole horde of bandits this time. This was why Ari didn't pull her usual lone wolf shtick, accepting the help of another sellsword. Still, the situation was risky. Others couldn't be trusted. But on the other hand, Myra hadn't killed Ari yet and she had plenty of opportunities. For the time being she continued their partnership.

The Draconian didn't bother to wipe off her blades and sheathed them as is. They were bloodied and would be better off without slick gore, but wiping it off would mean wiping off her poison and she certainly didn't have the time to reapply. She took a moment to straighten out her leather vest and black cape, sliding the black hood over her head in an attempt to conceal herself. The hood was fashioned for her species, two holes in place for her sleek, onyx colored horns. Ari hoped the dark fabric could help her go unseen in the darkness.

At Myra's words, Ari could only nod in agreement. There was no point in covering their tracks now. The bandits knew there were intruders. Dangerous ones.

Arilith sank into a crouch and crept behind Myra closely. Her thin tail was held stiffly in an attempt to reduce her movement, hanging limp save for the end, which was curled up awkwardly so it was concealed under her cape. Silently she eyed the wall outside, crumbling and perfect for a higher vantage point. Without so much as indication she had listened, she slipped out of the door slowly and made her way toward the wall with fluid motions.

Further in the yard and fortress she heard the shuffling of metal and the cadence of conversation. A blade hissed as it was unsheathed, followed by a few others. Ari tried to count how many she heard, guessing about three or four. The distance between her and the wall was closed with cautious, gliding steps, until she reached its stony surface and looked to Myra for a course of action. It was too dangerous to speak, so she just gestured to the wall with a curt toss of her head, more like a flinch, and mouthed, "Climb?"
 
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