Battles

[Rayvinn]

Five hundred years, or three hundred, she had touched him, and he was glad for just that simple contact. And really, what one didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Five hundred years was pushing it, even for an elf, after all. Once they were through the door, his gaze sharpened, and he scanned the streets for any signs of danger - an automatic response, anywhere in this city at night. But all was quiet, and the lights which yet lingered in most business around here formed a dazzling array, lighting the way for the patrons and browsers of the various small boutiques here. "So, how long did it take you to gain your skill in walking in those heels? And can you fight with them? Not to pry, simply curious." His voice was a low murmur as they made their way north of the Inn itself.

There were two pairs of sharp elven eyes peering into the darkness, ever prepared for whatever eventualities occurred. Shadow had been correct about once a ranger always a ranger; it truly was great training just for living around the criminal cesspool that was RhyDin City.

Yes, she had touched him, and that very loose hold upon his arm had tightened ever-so-slightly as they left the warmth of the Inn and made their way along the walkways that were lit well enough to see the homeless that occasionally were sprawled along the sidewalk. She paused for a moment, a hand digging into her pocket to pull forth several silver pieces. "It is cold tonight, go purchase a room and warm tea at the Inn," spoken softly to a young woman that had several children huddled against her body for heat. Without another word, Rayvinn continued her slow stroll along the streets with Shadow.

An amused chuckle could be heard prior to her reply to his questions. "I first had to gain skill in standing as erect as my body would allow with a small stack of books upon my head and a teacup balanced atop that." If he had been watching her face, he would have seen the wistful smile of fond memory that just as quickly took flight, finding her features not accommodating for more than a few brief seconds. "I can fight in anything, really. So the answer to your question is yes." She turned her face briefly towards him with a hint of an accepting smile, showing that she wasn't offended at the questions.

Answering questions was progress! He was learning how to navigate her currents, her stormy squalls, little by little. Or so he hoped. Everything was still so delicate between them, that care was uppermost in his mind. But the way she smiled at him, though meant to show acceptance - well, it took his breath away. Just being this close to her did that, and whatever chill had descended upon him this last week had no chance against the deluge of her presence.

Quiet, while she handed out silver to the family, smiling faintly. It touched him deeply, to see a generous side of her. Killer though she obviously *could* be, there was warmth and compassion there too. For his part he handed out no silver, but took a good look at mother and children, memorizing faces. It was natural for him, as a headmaster at an orphanage, and while he did not take in families, he liked to know who was out there on these mean streets. He made no comment just then, however, pausing while Raye doled out her aid, then continuing on. His eyes drifted around to the lights draping a small (closed) clothing boutique.

"You had a good teacher, to be trained as such. I don't think I could walk in them, let alone do anything so intense as fighting. You must also be a good dancer, too." He grinned at the brief thought of himself trying to walk in heels, and dismissed it as clearly impossible. After they'd taken a few more strides, reaching the end of the block, he murmured, "That was very kind of you, Lady Rayvinn. To help that woman." From their study of the surroundings - a careful, ranger's study like hers - his eyes slowly, inevitably drifted back to her face, a mysterious look in them. "There are many here who need help. Sometimes it's overwhelming, to me."

Or perhaps, just perhaps, his willingness to undergo the struggle of earning her trust, of being patient enough to get to know her, was paying off and she was making an effort to open up somewhat.

"I had a barrage of teachers with an arsenal of knowledge." She snickered softly, her mind automatically moving to the thought of Shadow in heels. "Why, Baron, if you are asking me to teach you to walk in heels, I would be honored to be your teacher. We just need to find some large enough to accommodate your feet." Her eyes twinkled with some of the mischief she was prone to display before their falling out. "I am trained in various forms of dance, this is true, yes." At the mention of her aid to the family, Rayvinn actually ducked her head in embarrassment. "Make no mention, it was so small a help." She nodded, face now solemn at his words. "It is heartbreaking. It would be so much more comfortable to not notice those in need. But I read a quote once that I hold as my personal motto. 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for a good man to do nothing.' It is overwhelming and the more help you bestow the more need you see but if we do nothing, the evil of poverty and abuse of the helpless will flourish." He had touched upon a topic that Rayvinn held securely close to her heart.

And it was a subject which had always been close to Shadow's heart. Helping the helpless, serving the greater good. He'd been rudderless lately, having to find his own way in this world, lacking any backing or guidance from some supposedly 'higher' power. But the gods had nowhere near the power that mortals, that the earthbound did, to affect the course of each other's lives.

He grinned at her first comment. "Ah, no thank you, but that is a gracious offer indeed," he teased back. "I think it might be something like teaching a fish to ride a bicycle, unfortunately." He paused his gait, slowing, as they passed another boutique, this one filled with a strange hodgepodge of books, candles, crystal charms, glittering in the window display under lingering Christmas lights. But it was not the display which had his attention. Her words about evil, and good men - or elves - doing nothing, resonated with him.

"It would be comfortable not to care, I suppose. But I think there are too many here like that. Uncaring, self-absorbed." Again, as a few times back at the Inn, he felt a pang of guilt. A private guilt, which he was loathe to share with anyone, but... She was here, close, holding his arm, looking so beautiful in the clouded moonlight. A light dust of snow had begun to fall, the flakes melting as they touched the pair, ephemeral notes of a winter's night. "The unfortunate thing, is that sometimes one must perform one evil, to assuage another. Do you agree?" His eyes searched hers for a reaction, as he verged on a personal admission.

[Rayvinn]

"And here I thought you were an elf always willing to hone his skills. Learning to walk, dance, and fight in heels would greatly work your dexterity in ways your typical workouts could not." She smiled a bit indulgently, feeling more relaxed with him than she had ever expected to again.

She nodded at his comment. "Indeed there are many of that type here. They've turned this city into a cesspool. Rayvinn stopped as Shadow asked the question regarding evil. Her gaze met his without faltering and she nodded. "I do agree but I take this one step further. Perhaps it isn't an evil being committed to assuage evil. Perhaps it is merely a misunderstood form of good." Rayvinn, very much in the same boat as Shadow in regards to guilt related to actions committed in the name of good (though not knowing this about him), felt a bit of reluctance with the topic but something had occurred between the two earlier in the evening, some bond had been forged, that made her feel that she *needed* to be more open. Her voice was soft as she spoke, meant only for the ears of an elf that stood so close. "I believe some of us have a certain skill set that is far beyond what many others have. We can either use those skills to greedily further our own needs or we can use them to protect the rights of others. If the skills bestowed upon us by those meddling gods are used to help others, how are we performing an act of evil? The only evil being committed is by the gods bestowing their gifts upon us that will taint our souls with such doubts." Feeling that she had given too much information about herself in that statement, Rayvinn's cheeks flushed and she found that she could no longer meet his gaze; oh what he must think of her.

He recalled an earlier conversation, specifically a comment within it, that she'd made. That night in his manor, she had referenced the gods. She gave voice once more to the thoughts which bubbled within his turbulent mind. Gods were puppeteers really, given a larger slice of the pie, and with less responsibility for it. And even shen he'd given them his utmost service, they had cast him out of their circle, the Seldarine as dysfunctional a family as ever existed on any mean streets, and willing to use and discard their tools as they saw fit. Only one amongst them, a goddess, still held Shadow's true respect.

"The other night,"he began, slowly, tentatively, "That day I wronged you. I could not sleep. I found myself in one of the seedier districts of the West End.. just out for a look at the nightlife. I heard a scream from an alley, and--"

Soft words, the quiet moment cut short as the sound of a gun cocking resonated to sensitive elven ears, from the corner of the boutique's solid brickwork building. At some point during the conversation between the two elves, the streets seemed to have cleared; now, there were shadows, humanoid shadows, beginning to converge. A strange pall fell over the scene, roiling darkness at the edges of sight, and the mutterings of what must have been a mage could be heard from one of the figures, standing well behind the others. Some sort of sound and sight sealing spell, perhaps. Or a timestop bubble, a trick of certain powerful magic-wielders.

Shadow was fast, however, once he heard the sound of the gun being readied. Even as the shot was fired, a shot intended for him, or her, or both at once, he was already pushing forward, his goal to take Raye to the ground with him; he twisted to take the fall on his shoulder, trying to preserve her from the rough concrete, as the boutique's wide plate glass window shattered above them, the bullet impacting it and shattering it with ease, leaving a spray of glass to shower over the scene. Unheard by any passersby, though there were none right then - the timestop spell would make it appear as though nothing at all was happening, from a distance.

They were truly trapped, now, and the curse of the failed shooter was a mere backdrop to the sounds of booted feet, crunching glass, and the looming forms of no less than four men armed with knives, clubs, and one an old, rusty broadsword. Humans, all, though one - the sword wielder - had the bluff, blocky features and physique of distant orc lineage. The voice of the mage rang out, audible within this bubble, "He's the one! Kill him and take the woman! She'll fetch a pretty price..." Clearly words to urge these brutish ruffians onward. Already Shadow was rising to his feet, eyes glowing with unshed power, an amber glow tinging with aquamarine. His heart turned to ice in his chest, and frost formed a cold sheen over his right hand, as something there began to grow - a bladelike icicle, glassy and razor-edged.

Intent upon his words, but never so focused that her senses wouldn't react to the slightest change around her, Rayvinn heard the sound of the gun. Quite familiar with the weapon, she knew what it was immediately, and dropped to the ground in a roll. Moving low and becoming a moving target made her far less of one and as she heard the chamber discharge the bullet, her gaze moved to find Shadow...just as he dove for the ground in the exact spot she had been standing a moment before. His heroics had not been wasted on her as she realized he had tried to protect her. She'd not hold it against him, he didn't know what she was capable of, after all; he'd only seen her in heels and very much looking the part of a woman that needed protection.

While her gaze had quickly shifted to see him, her hands had slipped to withdraw the daggers that were always present upon her body. A smaller one slipped from the sheath attached to her left upper thigh and a longer dagger from the beneath her jacket, at the small of her back, housed within a sheath attached to the belt on her dress. Most nights she would have a sword but this night she did not, perhaps for fear that she would want to use it on him? This had taken mere seconds and within that time the window had shattered, raining shards of glass down upon them, rendering any unprotected skin riddled with numerous cuts. The sound of the approaching attackers crunching upon the glass, had Rayvinn on the move once more before another bullet could stop them. The glass of that wide window recently vacated left them a perfect cover as not all four could come through the opening at once. It had been her full intention of moving into the cover of the store to better control the "battle" but there was something odd happening with Shadow and she wouldn't leave him alone on the street. Besides, four men with weapons were odds she was alright with. That mage, though? She had experience with battle mages and they were nasty creatures to deal with.

As the four drew closer, Raye felt herself move into that calm void where it seemed time moved in slow motion. Wrists rolled as her blades were twirled in readiness and her body shifted, ready to move and become the primary weapon she had at her disposal.

[Rayvinn]

The thought that came to him in the split-second motions of the conflict’s inception was rather simple. I knew she had knives! It was a silly thing to think, in the moment of crisis, that he had managed to avoid her planting one of those in his ribs. Just as he'd suspected could happen! But he was glad for those knives now, for though he had been trying to act the protective 'knight', there was no way he'd be able to track or defend her while defending himself. These were run of the mill street-thugs, but numbers were on their side. And they had a mage. This business was serious.

Shadow identified the nature of the surrounding spell at a glance - all of this was occurring in a place outside of time, or sight to normal eyes, and would be resolved in less than half a second, in real time. It would also keep the mage rather occupied, magically, unable to bring too much other sorcery to bear. Unless, of course, the mage was an order of magnitude more powerful than even Shadow and his fellow Keepers. Possible, but unlikely. Such a one might have smeared both elves to the pavement well before they could react.

Instants stretched out, and he met two of the attackers head-on, the leading orc and a club-wielding tough with a nose that looked as though it had been broken every day for the last year. Ugly, but swift with the club. He struck toward a knee, while the broadsword sailed at his neck. Shadow's blade was swifter, though, and he spent his motions in defense, an upward cut that started near his leg to catch and shatter the club, then deflect the sword high. His own ice-blade showed no sign of wear from the contact, though the rusty broadsword was notched. Looks of surprise became snarls as his two attackers reeled and positioned themselves to the flanks.

Meanwhile, the other two attackers, perhaps drawn by her beauty, or a mistaken sense of vulnerability, moved for Raye with matching leers. There was no doubt they were staring, but not at her eyes. One licked his lips as they moved in, prepared for a close knife fight. "Don' kill 'er, Mack," said one to the other. "She'll be fun later." Neither took his eyes from her. 'Mack', as he apparently was named, made a testing stab with his knife, gauging her reflexes.

It would be clear to a seasoned fighter such as herself that neither of these had ever fought anyone who could fight back. Their motions were slow, inefficient, and clearly tinged with overconfidence. The muttering of the mage continued, more quietly - either a new spell being formed, or the maintenance of the timestop. As things resolved, and combat senses kicked into play, it became clear that it was the mage himself who held the gun, aimed toward the fray but not firing again as the fighting became close.

Rayvinn remained in her stance, neither crouched nor standing ramrod straight, simply on guard but appearing languid. Oftentimes, she would use the ignorance of her foe against them, knowing that she appeared very much a target with her waif like build, beauty, and manner of dress. She was the unexpected poison that seeped from a beautiful flower. Even as "Mack" made his testing stab, Rayvinn remained unmoving, allowing him to become comfortable with her lack of defense, drawing him in closer. It was the second testing jab that proved his undoing as the man had gotten close enough, his knife hand moving towards her left shoulder, that she turned and rolled inside his open arm (so that it was stretched across her shoulder/back) and unprotected abdomen and attempted to plant the longer of the two blades just below his sternum in a forceful upwards thrust to pierce the heart. Grasping ahold of the hand that arm that was so intimately placed along her shoulder, she spun around beneath it, and turned so that she was facing him. A rough shove sent the man towards his friend and she took that brief moment of surprise to eyeball that muttering mage and let loose the smaller blade in her right hand. Of course she was aiming for a killing blow but there were many variables that might interfere with her typically deadly accuracy.

Mack fell away from her, quite dead from the sternum blow, or at least bubbling his last breaths through his half-opened mouth. His ally caught him, a reflexive action, and was left with little time to react aside from letting the body fall with a grunt of disgust. Still, he'd learned a lesson just then. Hesitance, fear, tension, all kept him out of the way - for the moment.

The mage had focused most of his attention on Shadow - who seemed to be the primary target of these assailants - and so only saw Raye's movements peripherally. Her dagger took him through the eye with a solid, wet thunk, shutting off that brain as though a switch had been flipped. And at that very same moment, the 'bubble' of darkness disappeared, the unreality of their fight thus far, everything falling into real time in the blink of an eye.

Before that magical bubble had been popped, Shadow was not idle. His own grace was clipped, still there, but economy had become the byword of his motions, not beauty. It took him perhaps three slashes of the icy sword, perhaps more, as he whirled the sorcerous weapon in a deadly arc designed to attack both flanks. He had the look of a fighter who could use two swords at once, but just the one sword was fast enough. The orc's descendant and his ugly compatriot were unable to deal with the skill of their target, and in this instance speed mattered so much more than strength. One head, then another met the pavement, adding to the gore pooling in runnels in the nearby gutter, weaving through the broken glass like a macabre delta's flood.

This left only the one facing Raye alive, and he turned tail quickly enough, the horrified look on his face verging on mindless panic. Dropping his knife, he began to run, a scream echoing from his lips. It was not a good evening to be a street thug, apparently.

Rayvinn had barely seen the mage drop before she was spinning around to finish the job. What she saw, however, were the heads as they were separated from their owners which caused her gaze to shift to Shadow and his weapon. A brow arched but before she could question him, the last assailant was running. With a curse, the elfess stepped over the body of Mack and then took off after his comrade. If the heels were a hindrance to her speed or agility, it wasn't something that was very obvious; one would have to see the elf in running shoes or barefoot to realize that she had lost a modicum of her speed. She was still faster than the clumsy, panicked thug and quickly caught up to him. A quick grab of his filthy coat and a forceful tug had him reeling backwards. Rayvinn then moved in front of him, delivering a solid punch to the man's nose. As he grabbed for it, blood gushing through his fingers, she delivered a solid kick to his genitals and dropped him to his knees. He rolled to his side, into the fetal position, as Raye moved past him and back to Shadow. "I believe you'll be wanting to question this one, Baron, yes? They seemed very intent on killing you, might be conducive to continued long life to find out why." Oh yes, she could muster that sharp wit at the worst of times.

[Rayvinn]

The attack had had fascinating timing, as it had interrupted something Shadow was about to say, about to admit. But his own actions had put in danger the life of this beautiful - and he now knew - deadly elfess. Not true danger, but it was burden on the baron to know that it could have been much, much worse.

He strolled briskly over to Raye and her captive, the icy sword disappearing with a rapid melt, water splashing onto the glass- and blood-soaked sidewalk. More broken shards crunched under his shoes - and damn it all, he'd *liked* those shoes! - as he neared the pair. His face was cool, and calm, despite the stray droplets of blood which had speckled him during his own head-severing. "I believe I know why they did this, Raye," he let out in a low, overly calm voice. Too calm, in fact, a mere facade of the cold anger which burned an icy path through his heart. "You, you are from the West End?" he asked the man, laying there gasping with the poignant pain of a heeled foot to the groin.

"Y-Yes, lord, y-y-es.. Please, p-p-please l-lord, spare me. I have ch-ch-children!" He stuttered in his fear, and the stain of a loose bladder wet his pants, compliments of Raye's special treatment. Shadow's eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Raye, then shook his head. "Let him go. Someone must carry word to his associates. And we should get off the street - you'll likely want the full explanation." Having survived even a brief combat had filled him with not only alertness, but a desire to come clean with this noble, deadly elfess. She was even more beautiful, under the still-falling flakes of snow, just after a combat. It would be enough to take his breath away under other circumstances. "Do you have a safe place nearby, my Lady?"

If anyone knew that feeling of putting others in danger because of their actions, it was Rayvinn. She very much could understand what Shadow was feeling even if she had no idea yet. Watching the elf and her captive closely, Rayvinn merely nodded and extended an arm to the side with a flourish that indicated the man could go. "It would behoove you to make certain that your associates know that this elf is now under my protection. Tell them Olivia Darkmont will be coming for them should any harm befall him. Now go, and wash yourself up so that your children do not see your shame!"

As he pulled himself from the ground, half expecting one from that deadly pair of elves to slit his throat, he nodded.

Rayvinn gave no further attention to the man but turned to look at Shadow. With those heels she was a couple of inches taller than he and with the added affect of her stately posture, she might as well tower over him. "I require nothing. An elf will have his secrets but if you so wish to share the burden, I will acquiesce." Obviously Shadow needed no protection, but she had just given an oath of sorts and would remain available to him. She took her honor quite seriously. Even though they had just battled together and she had just placed herself in the role of protector, even though he didn't need it, she would still not trust him enough to take him to her house. "If you require a private place that is safe, I keep the room at the Inn. If privacy isn't needed, I know an all night diner not too far away. Your choice." Offering the room at the Inn hadn’t seemed the slightest bit insinuating as far as the elfess was concerned. She was all practicality at this point.

Shadow's eyes didn't even trail after the man. He was no threat, and his life would serve a greater purpose. And the fact - the claim anyway - that he had children was telling. Simply because Shadow ran an orphanage did not mean he was in the business of making orphans in the first place, if it could be avoided.

No, his eyes were upon her, in her full, heeled, post-battle glory. And it was a glorious thing, too, to behold her upright confidence, her decisive manner, and her calm in what had been a moment of crisis. The woman had poise, and Shadow was even more impressed with that than he had been with her fighting skills. "Well, I've already shared out the danger, why not the burden too?" he quipped with something like a grin. The thrill, the adrenaline of fighting was leaving, but having been through a scrape and survived without more than a few frayed nerves was exhilarating. "And in case you're curious. I know I'd be curious if they'd been after you." Her room at the Inn? That seemed as intimate as knowing where she lived, somehow. Intimate, and too soon, probably. "The diner will suffice, I think. I'm buying." He brushed his hands over his suit jacket, and dusted some glass debris from his pants, before stepping closer - and offering her his arm, just as he had when they'd begun their trek from the Inn. Mayhem and slaughter were no reason not to be a gentleman, after all. He said nothing of her false name (or was it false) or the comment about protection. He did file the name away for memory's sake; and what elf would not want to be under the protection of this devastatingly gorgeous and deadly elven Lady?