M: Disclaimer: I only claim ownership over Nackor Blackhammer, the PERSONALITY and APPEARANCE of Seelamin, and Ilivarra among other things. Don't take this story away!
The soft hum of music played throughout the inn. The duegar bartender was used to the song for it was often played in this particular inn. A break in his humdrum routine occurred a minute later. A cloaked stranger quietly walked over to the bar and sat down. "What can I get ya?" the man asked.
"Mead." The stranger replied. The innkeeper looked at the stranger in surprise. He hadn't realized she was a woman. He got to work looking for a bottle of mead under the counter. "So what brings ya to these parts? I couldn't but notice that yer' a bit taller then some of the other guests…"
"I'm looking for a member of a dwarven clan. Blackhammer."
"Blackhammer? They moved away years ago after that drow attack that lost 'em a lot of ther' family." He shook his head. "Dark times, those were."
She nodded. "I see."
He peered closer at the woman. The dark cloak covered almost all of her body, the only visible facial features her dark blue eyes. If she had not spoken, chances were the inn keeper would have considered her a man for the rest of her stay. "Why are ya lookin' for Blackhammer anyway?"
"It's a personal matter." She said coldly.
"No need ter' get touchy."
"I'm not being 'touchy'. If I were being 'touchy'," her hand idly drummed the now visible dagger attached to her waist. "Then you would have a knife in your throat."
The duegar blinked. "I'll just get yer' drink then."
A few minutes later, another cloaked stranger entered. The inn keeper mentally groaned. Not another one.
The second stranger sat down to the first. A few more minutes passed. The inn keeper wasn't sure what had happened, but suddenly, the first stranger had the second stranger's wrist in her hand. The second stranger cried out and dropped her knife. The first stranger balled her fist and punched the second in the stomach. The second stranger lost his—or her—balance and fell backwards over a bar stool.
The second stranger quickly regained balance. The second then tossed away its cloak, revealing it to be a drow female. The crimson symbols on her armor were alight and glowing as she circled the first.
The duegar gasped when the former tossed aside her cloak as well. The first stranger was a drow as well, the tips of her hair just touching her slender shoulders, her dark blue eyes burning with intensity and anger. Her studded leather armor, knives, and the seven earrings in her left ear gleamed as she moved to attack the second.
"Oloth plynn dos, dobluth!" the second shouted.
"Go to Hell!" thefirst retorted.
They were both outstanding fighters and the battle was hard. It was obvious that the former was the better fighter, however. She knocked the dagger out the second's hand. The second drow's eyes widened and she tried to escape. The first grabbed her neck before she could. "Say hello to the dukes of hell for me." She plunged her knife into the second's chest.
The former dropped the latter's corpse on the floor and turned around. The duegar stared at her in horror. The drow merely arched an eyebrow, tossed him several coins, recovered her cloak, and left.
They keep finding me. I must take better care to conceal my whereabouts. Nathyrra thought as she trudged through the duegar city. Another cloaked figure lay ahead. Nathyrra frowned and ran into an alley. The drow jumped and grabbed a hold of a ladder. She climbed up to the roof and crouched down, waiting to see if the cloaked figure posed any possible threat. I'll have an advantage of at least three stories if the person does pose a threat.
Nathyrra breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was only a wandering vagabond. Her relief was short-lived when the sound of a dagger whizzing through the air caught her attention. Nathyrra ducked to avoid it and turned around.
A red sister stood on the roof, another dagger ready to be thrown. "For the Valsharess!" she cried and threw the knife at Nathyrra. Nathyrra grabbed it out of the air. She pulled a second dagger out of her boot and charged the red sister.
The drow brought up her otherdagger and blocked Nathyrra's attack. Nathyrra threw her cunning into the fight, occasionally switching hands and throwing kicks at the sister in order to confuse her. Nathyrra made a mistake in her combat dance and left her left arm exposed.
She let out a yelp as the red sister's dagger bit into her left shoulder. The assassin took advantage of Nathyrra's distraction and pushed her backwards, towards the edge.
Nathyrra fell backwards off the edge. She immediately reached out and grabbed onto the edge of the roof. The red sister smiled humorlessly and knelt down in front of Nathyrra. "Any last words, Kant'tar?"
"Just one…Duck." With a huge burst of strength, Nathyrra swung herself back onto the roof and mule kicked the sister. The sister stumbled backwards. Nathyrra used her magic to push the sister even farther. The drow cried out and grabbed onto the edge. Nathyrra smiled viciously and walked towards the edge. "The foolish and unwary find waiting death." She spat, quoting a drow proverb. Nathyrra brought down her booted foot on the assassin's fingers.
The assassin cried out and started to fall. She grabbed onto Nathyrra's shins as she fell and forced Nathyrra to trip. Nathyrra grabbed onto the edge and looked down. The assassin took out another dagger. Snarling, Nathyrra swung her legs towards the wall of the building. The assassin cried out as she was beaten against the building, but did not let go.
Nathyrra let out a cry of frustration as she hit the assassin against the wall of the building. "WHY WON'T YOU DIE?" she yelled. The sister refused to let go. Using the last of her strength, Nathyrra cast a spell.
The red sister let out a scream as her hands caught on fire. She let go and fell to the ground with a sickening crunch.
Nathyrra pulled herself up onto the roof before the locals could come and inspect the corpse. She began running towards the edge of the roof and jumped. Nathyrra landed on the roof of the next house over and continued running. The drow did this for three more houses until she reached a gap that was far too wide for her to jump.
Thinking quickly, Nathyrra jumped down and landed on the back of a passing cart. She ducked down so that the merchant couldn't see her and took a few seconds to compose herself. Exhausted, Nathyrra attempted to make herself somewhat comfortable amidst the supplies. I can't keep running forever.
The image of Seelamin's pale face and bloody chest flashed through her mind. It was followed second image of Nackor, holding his prized dagger and grinning.
Nathyrra put on an expression of pure determination. But I can try.