It was still dark in the morning twilight. Only the barest hint of a lightening sky far on the horizon of the mostly still black sea as they passed the harbor betrayed the coming dawn. The air was quite chilly for Edovan, and when the wind blew, it cut right through him. He pulled the hood of his coat up (Yagaritte had procured one for him, about ten sizes too big, along with a worn scarf he hadn't had time to retrieve before being dragged out of the Boar). He crossed his arms and shivered. Staanovaar seemed unaffected.

“Those girls are something else, aren’t they?” he grinned down at Edovan as they slowed their strides to a normal pace, safely out of the Boar’s sight. “I almost didn’t think we’d get out of there alive!” he joked, chuckling. His eyes were laughing like they were best friends who’d run away together after pulling a prank on a cranky farmer.  Even though they had barely met, the huge Nord had a very easy going vibe about him that made you feel like you had known him for years. Edovan felt instantly relaxed.

“I’m getting used to it,”  Edovan sighed.  “To be perfectly honest, I have to admit that part of me…” he paused briefly, choosing his words thoughtfully. “...kind of likes the attention... but the rest of me wonders if things will ever go back to normal…” he trailed off.

“Oh, I don’t think it will ever be normal at the Boar.. or maybe that is normal?  I mean they’ve been like that every time I’ve stopped by for the last three years.” He grinned at Edovan again.  He seemed to be ALWAYS grinning.  It made you want to grin back.

“Oh my. I can’t imagine!”  Edovan said earnestly. “I’ve only experienced this for a few days... Before that, I used to wonder if I had accidentally made myself invisible, but only to women,” he only half-joked.   

At their slower pace now, they were walking side by side through the wide, darkened, snow covered empty streets. At this hour very few people had begun to stir, and certainly most of them would still be in their homes, having coffee and breakfast like normal folks. It snowed every night here. Even in the summer. The main difference was the sun would come out and melt it all off in few hours. In the winter time it would just accumulate until shoveled into piles by work details made of prisoners of the city watch.

“Really? But you’re a mage, right?  Aren’t you really smart? I thought that was what women liked.  Really smart guys...” he exclaimed, brow furrowed. Staan’s voice trailed off with just the tiniest hint of sadness. It was baffling to Edovan.  Of course he was “really smart,” incredibly intelligent, if he had to be honest. But in his experience it had never translated into female attention. In fact, it had been mostly the opposite for him. Possibly Nords were different?  It made a certain sense, in that large, burly, not so bright men were in no short supply around here.  He remembered the twin’s words from the night before.

“There are over 33 young, attractive women at the boar, 33 big hungry kitties... and for some inexplicable reason nearly every single one of them wants you, little mouse, inside of them… in one way... or another...”

Was his level of intellect so rare that all the women flocked to him for it?  As they neared the edge of town he pondered this.  It was only slightly plausible, he supposed.  He felt like he was trying to put together one of those puzzles they used to play with back in Magicka school with all the little pieces made of wood or stone or metal, that when arranged properly formed a three dimensional shape of an animal or creature and could be made to animate for short periods of time before self disassembling.  The only issue right now was, he was trying to make the Dragon using pieces from the Dreugh King.  No matter how many you had or how much you tried, they were never going to fit.

Edovan thoughts were suddenly distracted, though, as he became more aware of the town unfolding around them as they walked. Its unique design and architecture was one of the reasons he had wanted to come here, outside of how remote and inaccessible it was. It was nestled into a small valley just below forbidding mountains, one of which was a still steaming but long dormant volcano. Most the town was very vertical, with the only non-sloped portion along the black sand beach and port.  

The current town was small compared to the size of the ancient Dwemer remains it was built literally on top of.  It was theorized the Dwemer had built a facility of some kind here in order to the harness the power of the naturally occurring hot springs and steam vents. Nearly fully functional Dwemer buildings, all square and strange metals, and covered with huge black metal pipes leaking steam, still rose above the many longer and lower Nord structures, which were mostly log-hewn with the occasional cut stone keep jutting upward. They were older than anyone knew and only partially explored and co-opted by the city’s engineers, who had figured out enough of the upper levels to make full use of the steam, hot water, and hot air that was coursing throughout the many ancient pipes that criss-crossed through and under the town.  

It was fascinating to Edovan that here, in this remote corner of the world, they lived such advanced lives compared to the rest of Tamriel. Only the vast and dangerous travel distances and the bitter cold kept the city from becoming any bigger than it already was. It was an amazing thing to have, but Edovan had a theory of his own.  He believed the many pipes and vents carrying hot water and hot air and steam out of the Dwemer ruins and into the city proper were actually originally for exhaust and heat exchange of some kind, and all the energy and heat they provided was simply a side benefit.  Whatever the Dwemer had hidden deep in their enormous facility needed a massive amount of cooling for some reason.  It could be anything, a gigantic but dormant fire creature, a magicka reactor, even the volcano itself! If only he could find a way into the deeper levels...

“Eddo... hey, you okay?” Staanovaar’s voice interrupted his reverie. The huge Nord had taken a knee and was looking down intently into his face, with more than a little concern.

“Oh sorry... I got lost in my thoughts for a bit,” Edovan admitted, smiling at the Nord gently.

“Those must be some pretty big thoughts...”  he said curiously. Staan was still grinning, through his concern, but Edovan detected the same wistfulness he had heard in his voice earlier.

“I was just thinking about the city… and all the technology the Dwemer left behind. You don’t realize how lucky you are here.  I’ve been to quite a few places, and I can assure you that the rest of the rest of the world has no such thing as an endless supply of steam and hot air and hot water,” Edovan said thoughtfully.   

“I guess I never thought of that before...”

It was Edovan’s turn to lift Staan’s spirits.

“I know you may find this hard to believe Staanovaar, but in the rest of the world, we actually have to heat all our water… on a fire..” Edovan said, deadpan.

“What? Every time?”

“Yes. Every single time,” Edovan assured him.

“That’s crazy… it’s like… it’s like you’re ALWAYS camping!” Staanovaar exclaimed. He seemed a bit too excited at that prospect.

“Yes, something like that.”

They resumed their travels as Staan chuckled at the thought of living in the most advanced city in the world. He honestly had no clue his small little town was so advanced, but the thought of camping all the time didn’t seem so bad either...

“So Edovan… I have to ask you this question. Because me and a bunch of the others are dying to know.  HOW did you manage to get Margara to let you LIVE at the boar?” Staanovaar asked him after they had continued on.

Edovan looked confused, then thoughtful.  “I don’t know… I mean they just asked, gave me a room of my own... I mean, it’s not much, and I have to pay for it. It’s not free…”  he admitted. He had never really thought about it beyond the fact that they were kind to him and he was immensely grateful to them for it, but Staan was right. It wasn’t like he was paying more rent than anyone else.

“No man has EVER been allowed to live there. Not even Mint. Not since Margara’s husband got himself killed all those years ago...  but that was before my time.” Staanovaar said.

That didn’t seem right in Edovan’s mind. No man?  Did that mean they didn't think of him as a man?  Or perhaps the twins were right… maybe he was more of a pet… or worse… food!  He suddenly had a crazy thought in his head that Margara was fattening him up to feed to Mavka, but then logical brain took over again before Lizard brain could get all happy at the thought of being “eaten.” There was no way that’s what was happening… right?

“That can’t be right. It’s an inn, isn’t it? There are men staying there right now in some of the rooms.  I saw them,” Edovan said, trying to work through the strange ideas that were running through his head.

“Yeah,” Staan agreed. “But they don’t live there.  Nobody can afford it. Every extra night you stay at the Boar the fee TRIPLES.  And it doesn’t start out cheap.  Everyone says it's the only way she can rotate the clientele, because people really would live there if they could…”

“But that’s an easy solution. You just stay two or three nights then get a room at ano---”

Staanovaar cut him off.  “Nah you can’t. Once you end a stay, you can’t get another room for a months… and that’s only if you are lucky. They are booked solid year round.”

Edovan let that sink in a bit. It was yet another mystery to solve, but one he would have to look into later.

They were leaving the closed-in, largely vertical part of the city, and were headed across one of the many high stone bridges that lead across various rivers and streams that plunged over high waterfalls to the black sea below. There was squat stone keep ahead that was functional, obviously well-used, if not anything spectacular to look at. There were huge red banners hanging from the ramparts, decorated with crossed swords with a huge hammer in the middle looming behind them. He knew this place. But last time he had never gotten past the front gate.

“This is the fighters guild...”  Edovan said, his voice laced with dread.

“Yeah,” Staan agreed. “That's who I work for. And you, too, now. As of today!”  Staan clapped him hard on the back, in joyous camaraderie, but the blow nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

When Edovan got his wind back after a few seconds, he countered.

“But they already turned me down. I came here when I first landed, and they sent me away.”

Edovan’s face flushed at the memory of their mocking words.

“Who sent you away?” Staan seemed genuinely perplexed that anyone would treat his new little friend so rudely.

“The guards at the gate,” Edovan said, waving his arm vaguely in the direction of the gate, though he couldn’t make out the faces of the guards currently stationed there.

“Those guys?  Pay no attention to them. The gate guards are knuckleheads. It's the lowest duty we have. They have no say, anyway. Besides, you… you are vouched for by one of our highest ranking officers. And personally requested. Our bylaws state that means you are automatically accepted,” Staanovaar said, nodding down at Edovan.

They were nearing the gate now. Close enough that Edovan could recognize both of his tormentors from earlier. Apparently they were still on gate duty, their positions having not improved since their last meeting.

“Those must be them by the look on your face,” Staan observed. “Hey Eddo, let’s have a little fun with them. What do you say?”

The tiny Bosmer’s brows arched and raised at the prospect, but then quickly furrowed.

“Staan. Do me a favor? Don’t say anything about it?” Edovan said flatly, looking at the ground.

“Seriously? But they deserv-”

Edovan cut him off. “I know they do, and I appreciate your enthusiasm for payback, especially on my behalf, but if I’m really joining the guild today… I’d rather not make needless enemies of those who could be my allies.

Staan scratched his head in wonder at the small Bosmer. He had never expected words like that to come from someone who looked barely old enough to have hairs on his chin (not that Edovan had any). The little guy was full of surprises.

“Sure, Eddo. If that's what you think is best...”

Edovan smiled gratefully up at the huge Nord, and that was the end of it.

They proceeded through the main gate, past the two guards, who were staring at Edovan in disbelief (And though Edovan would never admit it aloud, to see those faces with their mouths agape as they passed gave him no small amount of pride)

But Edovan had no time to think about them.  He was suddenly drawn out of his thoughts as the sounds of some sort of large scale battle crashed over them suddenly as they neared the end of the passage.  Edovan was no fool. He’d been around enough city watches and soldier camps to know the difference between the rhythmic organized sounds of a fighter’s drilling, and... whatever was going on up ahead.

There was a large crowd of heavily armed, if not all heavily armored Nords inside the keep, and they were forming a huge circle in the sparring yard.  Edovan, being small and Nords not being small at all, they were completely blocking his view.. But he could hear swords clanging off shields and the sounds of people giving and receiving pain like they actually meant it.

“Uh oh. Looks like Mountains has issued another challenge,” Staan whispered down to the small Bosmer as he lead the way into the crowd, trying to get a better view.  He gestured for him to follow. He was speaking to Edovan, but his eyes were clearly focused on the action, even then as he ushered Edovan to the front of the crowd. He positioned himself behind him protectively, using his arms as a shield against the crowd when it surged around them, keeping Edovan in a small, safe Bosmer-sized bubble.

“Mount--?” Edovan began to ask, but he stopped, words caught in his throat as the ground fell out from underneath him and he found himself, quite effortlessly, hoisted onto Staan’s broad shoulder. His gratefulness was completely eclipsed by how mortified he felt to be in this embarrassing position, but he needn’t have worried. Where they were, on the outside of the circle, not one single eye was focused in his direction. He might as well have been a bull netch in a royal ball gown, so focused was everyone on the spectacle inside the circle of huge warriors.

The object of their attention was tall, taller even than Staan, and nearly as tall as Yagaritte. But while Yagaritte was long, athletic and svelte, the huge blonde Nord woman in pigtails, crouched like a coiled spring, was as curvy as a woman could be and still be made of nearly solid muscle. She was also the darkest skinned Nord he’d ever seen. Yagaritte’s skin, like most Nords, was snowy and creamy. In comparison, this woman’s was a sun-kissed bronze, shimmering and golden, almost the same color as her strange armaments, oddly enough. Her face was like her body, beautiful, but hard, and covered with dirt, sweat, and spatters of blood. There was dark red warpaint in a band that went from one side of her face to the other, slashing across her huge ice blue eyes. She had high cheekbones, and full, pouty lips… that if relaxed would have appeared highly sensual, but at the moment were curled in a cocky sneer.

She had broad, strong shoulders, biceps of corded steel, thighs that looked like they could easily crush stone and... oh my. Mountains! Of course. It was very visibly obvious where that moniker came from. Her huge, heavy breasts were bigger even than La’s! Lizard brain was gleefully pointing out that they were so big, nearly his whole upper half would fit between them. Logical brain was pretty sure he wouldn't live to enjoy it.

The sheer size of them strained credulity similarly to Yagaritte’s height.  They were strapped down as best they could be under a form fitting leather cuirass, with two huge Nordic steel rounded cups doing all the heavy lifting. But even from the far back, Edovan could tell it was strained to its breaking point as her… mountains... wobbled, jiggled and quivered with her every movement.  It would have been absolutely mesmerizing... if four people hadn’t been trying to take her down simultaneously.

She was in the middle of the circle, surrounded by three men and one other woman, all of whom were armed to the teeth and circling her at a wary distance. Edovan’s sharp senses could see and feel their exhaustion. Despite the fact they outnumbered her four to one, none of them looked eager to charge back in again, instead content to bide their time and wait for her to make a move. She, on the contrary, looked like she could go all day. She was lightly armored aside from the steel cups, wearing leather shorts and fur boots and carried no visible weapon, just a small but sturdy buckler (Dwemer, possibly?) that was strapped to some kind of metal bracer of the same type of metal on her right upper arm. Her left arm had a similar bracer, but instead of a buckler, some sort of strange hook protruded over the back of her hand. It didn't look right for attacking purposes because of the way it was curved back towards her. Edovan guessed it was defensive in nature as well.

Then, she looked straight at him.

He didn't need keen senses to feel the burning beams of hatred she was trying to lance through him using just her eyes. He had never felt such rage. And just in case he wasn't sure she was looking at him, she pointed at him with her hook and made a very blatantly unmistakable motion across her throat.

Then several things happened at once, in seemingly slow motion.

First Edovan tried desperately to will himself to disappear, but failed miserably. Then, EVERYONE in the crowd turned in unison and looked straight at him, perched as he was, like a tiny Bosmer parrot on pirate Staan’s broad shoulder. Despite his first wish of disappearing going unanswered, he tried it again, willing himself to be literally anywhere but here...

Then some of Mountains’ opponents made the critical mistake of thinking she was distracted, and therefore leaving an opening. They were quite wrong.

The woman, a large but wiry Nord with short brown hair tied up in a bandana, lunged forward with the tip of her spear, wisely aiming at the back of the larger blonde’s exposed calf in what should have been a brutal and crippling attack... and it would have been, had she been there to receive it. She had been crouched like a coiled spring, but the spring suddenly sprung and in a blurred flash, almost too fast for the eye to see, she had vaulted up and backwards, tucked briefly into a ball, and landed lightly on her feet behind her now very surprised, and suddenly defenseless opponent. Her thick leg hurtled out in an expansive arc, sweeping the other woman to the ground as her booted foot caught her ankles with such force she was literally thrown sideways to the ground on her face. The second she struck the ground, Mountains sprung on top of her, and a single blow to the back of her helmet from the dwemer buckler knocked her cold.

Then two men rushed her at once, the smaller with a pair of wicked axes, one in each hand, and the larger wielding an enormous great sword longer than Edovan was tall and at least 2 hands wide.  She deftly blocked both of the axes, deflecting the blades with her buckler and bracers, then ducked and rolled under the huge but slow great sword, slicing through the air at the spot where she had been, that was now partially occupied by her first attacker. The swordsman realized his error in just enough time to turn the flat of his blade before it swept through the smaller man’s guard. There was the sharp ring of steel on steel and a sickening crunch as the full weight of the massive blade easily tore the axe from his left hand and sent it flying into the crowd before slamming into the shoulder of his ally, spraying blood and sending him sprawling to ground.

Mountains quickly whirled 180 degrees the instant she was up on her feet again and sprinted past him as he recovered his swing. As she passed him, she deftly slipped her hook into the top shoulder strap of his armor, then whirled again, slinging the hapless man forward only to trip over and land face first on top of his prone and bleeding buddy. She pounced on top of both of them in a second and grasped them both by the sides of the heads, before crashing them together like cymbals. Both men slumped unmoving, one still gushing blood from the wound on his shoulder. Mountains was up again and coiled once more before the crowds could finish groaning at the gruesome sound of the men’s skulls clacking together like hollow gourds.

She ducked sideways out of the way as two people from the inner ring came forward to drag the two unconscious Nords out of the way. She shot Edovan an evil grin, glancing back towards him to make sure he was still watching.  He was still perched atop his massive friend's’ shoulder, his mouth in the shape of an ‘o’ as he watched her dispatch the two men with ease. Lizard brain was irrationally loving this, this attention from such an attractive, powerful woman, while logical brain tried in vain to explain that she obviously wanted to kill him, and not in any way he would ever enjoy, not even briefly.

He looked at the third man, her final opponent. He was much older than his allies, his grizzled face covered in almost as many scars as it was close cropped grey whiskers.  He’d been hanging back, apparently watching all the action with a cool, calculated eye. This man was solid but not muscle bound, average size for a Nord, and at first glance of no remarkable appearance. He looked like any of a hundred faceless guards or mercenaries, and most would have paid him no notice, but Edovan noticed three things immediately now that he was focused on him.

Firstly, his hybrid leather and steel armor was very worn. Dirty and dented, and seemed to be assembled quite piecemeal at first glance from multiple sources; Nordic, Orcish, a single mostly cracked Elven glass pauldron on his right shoulder, and even bits of dragon bone. But Edovan could see by the way it moved as they circled each other that there were hidden protective plates built IN to it in strategic places: His left shoulder blade, behind his heart, his right side above his hip, (kidney) his inner thigh etc. There was a small bit of extra protection over almost every vital organ, major blood vessel or commonly used avenue of attack. In fact he could see the outer leather was punctured and sewn back together or patched in each of these locations. This man, appeared to have, after the fact, painstakingly reinforced his armor against every single attack that had ever successfully pierced it.

The second thing Edovan noticed was that he was armed to the teeth, literally bristling with handles, hilts and hafts protruding from all the swords, dirks, knives and throwing daggers he was carrying, also all piecemeal and clearly from different sources. Edovan began to suspect that at least some of them had been the very implements that had caused the various holes in the man's armor leaving little doubt as to the fate of his opponents. He was certain the weight of all those blades was easily as great as any full set of mail or plate, and even THEY were placed strategically around his body in such a way as to provide even further protection for the owner while they remained sheathed.

The third thing he noticed was that the old Nord was now showing absolutely no trace of the exhaustion he had exhibited earlier. His stance was now relaxed and his breathing was careful and measured. Either he had remarkable faculties for recovery or, (and Edovan deemed this much more likely) he had been cunningly faking the entire time.

Edovan could sense with certainty that this man was truly dangerous, a fact quickly confirmed by the crowd as they all silently took an extra step or two back as he sheathed his longsword across his back and drew two nasty looking daggers from his sides. Clearly these were his go-to weapons and the blade in his right hand was unnaturally shiny with a dark liquid. They circled each other like spider and scorpion.

*  *  *  *  *

Baryk was enjoying this. He hadn't felt this alive in a decade. Not only was he facing a challenging opponent for the first time since he'd had his 30th year with the guild, but the lass was quite the looker, as well. He silently cursed himself that he hadn't been around much to see her grow up around here. Seemed like every time he came back from a job she'd grown at least a head or more taller. Then suddenly, much to everyone's surprise, (and his delight) this past summer her body had apparently finally reached its upper limit and decided to grow OUT instead.

He stared blatantly at the huge quivering mounds of bronzed flesh barely restrained by steel and leather threatening at any moment to spill out right in front of him. He imagined burying his face in that sweet golden valley. He wouldn't even have to bend his knees!  Yes. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time. And her public challenge to advance her rank this morning was the perfect opportunity. He would beat her here in front of everyone, and then he would bed her... but first things first.

The kid had talent, he had to give her that.  She’d already sent eight of the guild's middle tier fighters to the healers, several of whom would be in recovery for at least a few days, magicka or no magicka. She was fast, strong, and smart, but Baryk wasn't worried because he had the one thing she didn't.  

Real experience.

Baryk had done more jobs than anyone still alive in the guild, even the Commander.  He had traveled the length and breadth of Tamriel and fought and killed nearly anything you could imagine. He had been in actual wars. Plural. The thousands vs thousands kind, with magicka flying and demons summoned, untold horrors, undead armies, even a dragon! He had the unwavering confidence and certainty of one who KNOWS that not only is he the superior combatant, but exactly why he is, and what weaknesses he can exploit. Baryk had no trouble with high minded concepts like honor, courage, or morality. You didn't get to be as old as he was in this business by letting anyone or anything limit you, including your own morals. What mattered in the end was that you were still standing and your opponent wasn’t.  You had to be willing to do whatever was needed to make that happen.

He had come from a poor fishing village further north up the coast and learned the trade with his family before being conscripted into his first war. For him, fighting often was a lot like fishing. Sure, you could just blindly toss your line in over and over again hoping to get lucky, but the best catches came from taking your time and thinking things out.

First: He had to bait the hook.

“Well, lass… you’ve done a good job so far. But playtime is over. Time to see how you handle a real man!” he quipped.

Mountains didn't blink.

“A real OLD man, you mean?  You sure you want to do this graem? I might send you to retirement early,”  she responded in like.

Baryk sneered. “Aye, lass, I will be retiring soon. I’m gonna retire right between those golden thighs of yours...” he said, eyeing her up and down.

He was trying to make her angry. He knew she had a hot temper and could be impulsive, and impulsive people made mistakes. Her instincts and reflexes were some of the best he had ever seen. He knew if he simply came at her she would tear him to pieces. But if he could goad her out of her normal defensive posture, make her make a move, his years of experience and calm composure would be to his advantage.

He saw the expected flush on her cheeks and the flash of fire in her eyes.

Second: Now to set the hook…

“I can see you thinking about it. But don't worry your pretty little head. I know it's your first time so I promise to be gen-...”

The strike came fast, almost faster than he could believe. Her speed was incredible, and only his own reflexes, honed by years of surviving battlefields (plural), saved him. In an instant she had closed the gap between them and lunged low before throwing a massive uppercut with her right that just missed his chin by literally the length of his salt and pepper whiskers. In the split second she was vulnerable, his darkened dripping blade flashed out. “And THAT, lass, is why you always wear protection!” he said as he snickered to himself.

The enormous Nord barely winced, but spun away from the blade, and crouched low in her customary defensive posture. A three inch thin red line had appeared on top of her thigh and blood began to well.

“You cowardly guar!  You POISONED me?!”  She bellowed, the shock and outrage plain on her face. Every vein in her neck was starting to bulge with seething rage.

“No worries, luv. You're not going to die. Just a little something to make you a tad bit more manageable. I am old after all, not as fast as a hot young thing like yourself. Just evenin’ the score that's all,” he said nonchalantly.

For the first time in the fight, Mountains looked uncertain, unsure of herself, and whatever he did to her.

“Try it again I’ll shove that blade up y--”

She grunted, cutting off her own words, as he rushed her. Blades met hook and buckler in a series of strikes, all of which she deflected easily, and with a flourish at the end, she caught his unsullied blade in her hook. With a deft twist of her wrist, she snapped the blade in two like a twig. Both opponents then whirled away from each other, but now there was a matching red line welling crimson on her opposite knee.

“Well that's a pity. That was one of my favorite blades...” he said, catching his breath. His trick wasn't working. And he knew he was going to have to end this quickly or he was going to be in trouble.

“That was also the only one I had that wasn't treated, but as you can see I have plenty more,” he told her, the sun glinting off of the many daggers and knives on his person.

He silently drew a longer dirk with a wavy blade from a sheath on the back of his belt. It, too, glistened with the same translucent brown substance, but the blade shimmered like someone had hammered midnight into a metal.

“You have literally picked your poison...” he sneered at her.

Mountains was literally shaking with rage. Her skin had gone from bronze to copper and every muscle, every fiber of her being, was taut like a bowstring pulled almost to its breaking point.

Her voice, when she spoke, however, was low and dark like some kind of huge beast.

“You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve…”

Mountains suddenly raised her right fist into the air and made a sharp up and down pumping motion. There was a loud shiiiickkkkk noise as the dwemer buckler on her right arm that was attached to her bracer slid slightly downward and then locked into a new position. A series of short but razor sharp blades suddenly sprung outward from the rim, along with 3 large spikes that now protruded from the outward facing surface. What had been mostly a defensive weapon was now, in her hands at least, capable of tearing a man to pieces. And judging from the flames dancing in her ice blue eyes, she intended to do just that.

As Baryk cocked an eyebrow at this surprising development, she suddenly swung her left fist in his direction in a wide arc. There was easily 20 feet between them with no hope of connecting, so he almost missed the small hook now hurtling toward him on the end of a thin metal cable. He dodged to the side quickly and raised his new dirk to parry, which was exactly what she wanted him to do. In mid air the hook had somehow separated into two hooks opposing each other, which now locked themselves around the wavy blade. She savagely flung her left arm up and back, easily tearing the weapon from his surprised grip, sending it tumbling in a high arc through the air, over the wall of the keep, and presumably into the ocean below. The hooks then released and retracted back to her bracer by some unknown mechanism before the dirk had even disappeared from sight.

Now it was Baryk’s turn to be mad. Now THAT had been a custom ebony blade that he had personally commissioned for a king's ransom in gold from an aging master artisan, and now he would have to wait until his next long and perilous trip to the mainland to get it replaced. But he didn't have time to dwell on the loss, because nearly 300 pounds of murderous Nord was hurtling toward him at unbelievable speed. He barely had time to draw his skyforged rapier.

He cursed himself for taking his eyes off her, even for just the second as he watched his prized blade sail over the wall into the sea. But no matter. He had tricks aplenty, more than she could ever hope to parry. In the split second he had to react, he shook a small capsule from its hidden pocket in his sleeve and hurled it at her. It exploded in a thick purple cloud of smoke that almost filled the entire clearing and enveloped her completely in an instant. It was a desperate ploy to slow her down, throw her off, anything to interrupt her charge  The cloud was designed to be so acrid that any normal person would have been stopped in their tracks trying desperately to breath as their lungs burned for clear air.

But Mountains was anything but normal.

He silently timed her in the swirling cloud, trying to gauge exactly where and when she would emerge.

He never expected her to actually accelerate after she’d disappeared from sight.

Baryk never saw the massive fist that erupted from the cloudy smoke, level with his chin. But he couldn't miss the impact. He was struck square, his head flying backwards nearly a foot or more, as he almost toppled over. The crowd grimaced at the sound of bone crunching as her bare fist plowed into his face, blood and saliva spraying outward as his head savagely twisted to one side.

Lesser man would have been obliterated, possibly even died, their skulls unable to absorb the massive impact.  But Baryk was no lesser man. Battle-hardened, toughened by decades of combat, his body honed by his punishing lifestyle, he was staggered, but still standing, and more importantly, still conscious. It also didn't hurt that he had taken five potions and used two defensive scrolls before the fight had even started. That was also the only reason he wasn't decapitated when the bladed buckler came sailing out of the smoke on his left aimed straight at his neck. That and the elven glass pauldron on his left shoulder.

He instinctively hunched his shoulder forward and up, deflecting the deadly disc upward as it glanced off his shoulder piece. He expertly rolled his body backwards to the ground and over his shoulders and back into an upright position. He wiped his mouth and spat a bloody tooth out on the ground.  

Even with his protections, his face looked misshapen, and flecks of blood and broken tooth dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Pain was exploding through his entire face, and his vision had started to blur. But he could see she hadn't come out unscathed either. The hilt of the dagger he had still held was protruding from her bare thigh, just below the hem of her leather shorts, right next to the slash he’d given her earlier. As he’d had tumbled away from her he had hurled it, and it had struck its target.

Not that it seemed to make any difference, in fact it only seemed to enrage her further. Now it was his turn to dodge, block, and parry ,as a series of savage but predictable swipes and blows rained down on him. He was holding his own, but barely, and she was slowly wearing him down with her superior size, strength and speed.

He decided it was time to reel this one in. It all depended on one huge gamble though, and If he was wrong… well he'd probably end up very dead, or at the best, crippled for life. One thing was for sure, he was definitely going to lose if he kept going the way they were now. As if to punctuate that point, he missed a low block on his left hand side, and the razor encircled shield bit into his hand. The actual blades just missed his gauntleted hand on either side, but he felt the shock wave of excruciating pain shoot up his arm as several bones broke. It was now or never.

Pushing the pain away like the professional he was, Baryk waited for his opening. He would only get one shot at this. The giant continued her assault, raining down punishing blows in a steady but predictable pattern, purposely trying to exhaust his endurance. He began to leave himself open on purpose, on his right side. Trying to lure her in. He guarded lower and lower with each strike. Then suddenly she lunged forward at his shoulder as he’d hoped, trying to hook into the shoulder strap of his armor.  But Baryk was ready.  

As she lunged, he suddenly spun to his right and skewered the extended hook with his blade, like a thread through the eye of a needle. Then, with a single fluid motion, he drew back hard and fast and slung the weighted hook out and behind him in a wide arc. In the blink of an eye the thin but incredibly strong line paid out several feet before pulling tight, sending the hook in a wide orbit around them. He could tell by the confused look on her face that he had taken her completely by surprise, but he had no time to savor it.

As he spun to face her again he crouched low and dove between her legs with an agility far greater than anyone his age should possess, tucking and rolling expertly over his shoulder and back to his feet just after the hook, still carrying full momentum in its orbit, swung over him. He turned and sprang upward from behind her, latching on to her back like a child would ride piggyback. Before she could react, the line, still drawn tight by the hook, had come around the front and across her exposed neck. Baryk quickly grabbed it with his right hand and with a rapid twisting motion wrapped it around his bracered forearm before pulling it even tighter, trying to cut off her air as the thin metal bit into her tan skin.

She staggered backward, spinning this way and that, trying to dislodge him from her backside. Her left arm was pinned to her chest by the line, and her right was flailing backward at him,  ineffectual. She was hampered by the fact that it was encumbered by the buckler, which was now sporting razor sharp blades, making it nearly impossible to strike him without severely injuring herself in the process.

Baryk spared himself a quick glance at the crowd and could see by their stunned looks that this sudden reversal had taken them all by as much surprise as it had his opponent. There were frenzied cries as people rushed to throw money back on the grizzled veteran, and even more anguished cries of those who suddenly saw their fortunes evaporating.

He couldn't celebrate just yet though. He had baited, hooked, and now reeled her in, but he still needed to land her in the boat. It was only a matter of time before she decided that crushing him was more important than winning the match. Being prone would end the match in his favor, but it would almost certainly end him as well! It was time to wage a different kind of war.

Baryk leaned his head forward over her shoulder, till his lips were inches from her ear, and starring whispering in a voice so low only she could hear it.

“Easy lass… easy. You put up a good fight, but it's time to admit the old man got the better of you. You're fast and strong, and you’ve got great skill, but your fancy dwarven toys are no match for my experience, and as you can see… even the best weapon is easily turned against its owner,” he whispered, the smirk plain in his voice.

He pulled harder on the cable to emphasize that point. It was working. She stopped spinning as fast, and her right arm began to flail less, easing into its wired prison.

She hissed between her teeth, and then said, short and sharp, “What??” Her head cocked at an angle, indicating she couldn't hear him.

Blast it. He didn't want to repeat himself a third time, so he leaned in till his lips were almost touching her ear.  “I sai-”

BAAM! She whipsawed her head away from him and back, quickly smashing into his face with the side of her head. Baryk saw stars explode in front of his eyes as she crushed and broke his nose with her sudden attack, blood pouring from it onto her shoulder, as his face went numb with pain.

“COWARD!” she screamed, deep and guttural, like a wounded animal, “YOU'RE NO NORD! YOU USE POISON LIKE A  CRAWLING VIPER TO WEAKEN YOUR ENEMIES….”  Her voice dropped then to a low hiss… ”Because you're too old to beat them in a fair fight…”  

Few things got to Baryk. He knew well the psychology of war, and used it often himself. He was a lot of bad things, and had been called a lot of filthy words, but he was no coward. He had held his ground when kings had run! He pulled savagely on the cable, blood was welling from her throat. She made an ugly gurgling sound, staggered, and fell to one knee. She was desperately trying to pull off her right gauntlet but he had cut off all her air.

“Aye that's right. Forgot about the little chaser I gave you earlier... do you feel it lass, feel it burn inside you? Feel yourself getting weaker?” he asked her, even as his face was spurting blood, even as he was missing teeth and valuable chunks of flesh.

It was time to drop the big secret and shatter her confidence once and for all.

“Well I have news for ya lass. I AM beating ya in a fair fight! Unless you're allergic to medicinal TREE sap!”

The look of sudden realization on her face was priceless. Baryk went for the kill.

“Aye, that’s right. NOW you get it... I never poisoned you. That sap keeps wounds from getting diseased. All that weakness you felt… it didn’t come from me.

You look all scary and you talk all big and bad... but inside… inside you're still the same scared little girl who showed up all feral and scrawny at our gates all those years ago with your big sister,“ he said.

He spoke this quietly, still close to her ear. This wasn’t a show, this wasn’t for the crowd. He wanted to cut her with his words, wounding more deeply than any blade.

He paused to sneer the next words as slowly and deliberately as possible. She had almost collapsed on to her second knee. She was done.

“Any weakness you felt?  That?  That was inside you.  Alllll along.”

He realized his mistake too late. Thinking back on it, years later, after the fact it was all too obvious, especially given her history. Her only response to his little speech was to slowly turn her head as far to the right as she could to look him in the face, and what he saw in her eyes chilled him to the bone.

It was the fear of a man who thinks he is about to die.

And then the world exploded.