Yelizaveta , The Half Blood Temptress

[Phuket696]

Sometimes even the Gods go too far.
A young girl is stripped down and whipped in front of hundreds of spectators.
Words were spoken to the crowd that she could not understand.
Strong words about the mixing of bloods and the matriarch laws. Words about the purity of race.
Words about the consequences of an unholy courtship.
All the young girl understood, all she felt, was the hate that the world held for her.
Yes, sometimes even the Gods go too far.


We start our story though across the mountains, with a young man who is also lamenting his fate. His fists pounding against the locked wooden door.
Crying is heard in the house. He is a simple farm lad who was born in the fields, near the town of Riften. His body is bruised but the pain is felt in his heart. His name is Turk Saberman.
He turns and slumps down against the door cursing the Gods, cursing his father. Cursing his inability to protect the one he loves. With each yell, each slap echoing through the door his body jerks has if the blows were still striking him.
Moving in closer we see that he is still but a child dressed in torn cloth britches, tall for his age. Blond curls and blue eyes now red with rage tear down his simple face. His hands constantly open and close while he plots his revenge.
He curses the laughs of his half-brother who started tonightâs fury by calling him a bastard yet again.
He curses his world, his life in a city of thieves, famous throughout Tamriel.
In the winter his mom will wither and die. In the spring he will run away and join the Imperial army.
At first they will let him work with the horses. Later they will teach him how to tan and how to fight. His real passion will be with the swordsman who shows him every sweep of the blade and with the scout who teaches him how to out think his prey.
He is not has skilled working with the blacksmith, but it is here that he can hammer his aggression onto the iron anvil. Murdering the metal has his instructors would chastise. Every blow of the heavy hammer strengthening his resolve. Sweat from the hot forge dripping off his brow, strengthening his body.
Many years pass while he continues to out work them all. When the other soldiers break for rest and drink, Turk will be found working down at the forge. His arms screaming like echoes from the past with every blow of the hammer. Deep into the night, long through the years he works.
Soon he is to meet a girl and she will remind him of his mother. He will fall hard and the Gods will laugh.

When looking back on the first time he laid eyes on her. He would laugh at the irony of all the self-centered feelings of unjust circumstance he felt at the time their paths crossed. In that one fleeting moment in time when she first looked up at him. It will seem a lifetime of understanding branched between them. And he looked away feeling repulsion, shame and desire.
The key turns in the lock of the door.

Edited February 8, 2018 by Phuket696

[Phuket696]

I awoke that morning in a s#*! hole room, in the s#*! hole bar. of a s#*! hole town. Riften. Den of thieves.

Nothing ever good happened to me here growing up and recovering from my state of drunkenness, nothing good was on the menu this fine day. A glance through the grease stained windows confirmed that indeed, the day was well underway.

The Bee and the Barb. How many nights of my youth were wasted at this watering hole in day’s gone bye.

I laughed in my surprise that the callings of the venders below in the marketplace hadn't awakened me. The laughter was expelled only by the sight of the HonorHall orphanage across the way.

"Dirk and the Turd" The kids use to shout and we use to chase them about town pretending vengeance. That was until I grew bigger than my older brother and he began to turn mean. God, how can I grieve for that hog spit just because he was family? How can two brothers grow so far apart? Well half-brothers, has I guess that our father never bedded the same woman twice. Dear old dad. Can't say he is missing now because he was missing all my life. I believe the last time I saw him was when I confronted him after my mom's death. Bless her soul. A night long ago when I decided enough was enough and ran away to join the Imperial army.

Pulling the shade I laid back down to assess my situation. Noted the folded clothes on the dresser and laughed. The general was right. In for a penny, in for a pound. Even in an intoxicated state my duty bound self had stored my outfit parade ready and removed all the empty Wine bottles. A lesson learned from a jealous girl with a strong toss.

I didn't need to look to know that my boots were clean and polished either. Blade sharp and within easy reach. How fast I have fallen. It was only a month ago when lying in a cell, not much smaller than this room, General Tullius himself was opening the door.

"I'm disappointed in you Sergeant Major. I thought you were made of better stock than this" the general growled. He is a big man who always demands your attention, impressively dressed in his clean Imperial uniform. "Tell me son so I can truly understand it, why in Gods did you assault that officer?" I had taken a breath, thought a reply, but nothing came. "I'm at a loss my general, Sir. I had thought that my past was behind me."

"Bull snot!" He roared, strolling over to better case me in that steely gaze of his that drew fear in not only just the new recruits.

"That's no excuse for what you did. My God man! It took five men to pull you off of the corporal! You are lucky he is still alive or I wouldn't be able to assist you has I have done now." Tullius shook with rage. I have heard of events, called blackouts. Never would I have led to believe something like that would have happen to me. The General motioned to the jail house guards has I followed him out into the dusty exercise yard. I could sense an explosion of his infamous anger lying just below the surface. Instead Tullius surprised me by putting his arm over my shoulder has he guided me to the fort’s main palisade gate.

"Turk, I know you are not one of the most popular Sergeants here, and I know why. There's never love for command until the battle’s raged. Dam it son, just when we need our best to prepare for the coming storm this s#*! has to happen." Tullius paused, and then turned me to grab both my shoulders. "Blessed be the Gods. There has to be some reason of fate for your career to end in such a fashion. I'll be dammed if I can see it.” I tensed under his scowl, “Somehow Turk, I know that we shall cross paths again." He glazed past me, out at the sunrise and I sensed sadness about him I never expected to exist. In an instant it was gone and his steely eyes bore into me once again.

"Take care of this family matter and get yourself together son. Just because you are now out of the army doesn't mean you are not still a born soldier. A dam good soldier that I hate to lose."

Then just as abruptly, he spun and barked to his 2nd in command. General Tullius didn't even look back has I stood there saluting the closest man to a real father I would ever know. How long did I stand there at the fortress gate before it hit me... Drummed out of the Army. Discharged. Hell the Army was my life. Only thing I've known these past 10 years. Why now? Where did this Corporal come from talking trash about my dead brother.

It started returning clearer to me has I sat down on the worn bed, thinking back upon my troubles. Right, only took me a month to clear my head.

We had just returned from a patrol and I was heading to the mess tent for dinner. We had marched in just hours ago, double time pace the whole way back. Thinking about the reports I needed to submit covering the mission objectives, the logistics, and the loss of life. I was in a foul mood blaming myself for not having the men better prepared. I take pride in running one of the best performing outfits in the service. Tough but fair. This patrol however, they were not good enough for what we encountered, just barely snatching victory from defeat. It was an unacceptable body count statistic with naming my best friend among the dead.

"Hey Turd" The corporal had called, coming out from nowhere across the courtyard. No Salute, No Master Sargent Sir…"Your brother bought it over in Riften, before he kicked the bucket he said to tell you he always knew you was a fairy." I remember the surprised look on his face stumbling back, teeth missing. Smile now funnyman. Then I remember nothing until waking up that morning in the brig.

Take pride, Right. Better come to the realization that this month has not been a bad dream and that my carrier has a warrior was over. My thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door.

It slid open to reveal a big guy I vaguely remember seeing hanging around town since I got here.

What the hell is my problem. Never before in my life have I lost track of my surroundings. Let alone the whole week since I've been here. Has it been a week? Situational awareness zero, Sir.

"Look buddy. It's Turk? Right? The girls said they thought that's you name. Not that it's anyone's business." He stood in the doorway leaning against the jamb with his arms folded across his chest, while I did little more than nod.

"My names Maul, I help out with things around here and well. The girls are worried about you. Said you seemed out of it last couple days. Didn't even want some company if you know what I mean." I caught him sizing me up so I did the same. Bigger guy, young with a good looking face, dressed in nice leathers. He seemed to have an attitude though. Caught him glancing around the room till his eyes stopped on my sword on the table. I could tell what he was right away. We use to call men like him enablers.

Every town has at least one and they grease the wheels, get things done.

"See," Maul continued "Some guys get down on their luck and come here to end things, and the girls get charged for the burial. Not that you look the sort." A smile drew across Maul’s face. "Look,” he continued, “I'm thinking maybe you just don't have the money for a girl to keep you company. I can help you out with that." Before he could step another foot into the room something awoke in me. Call it training, reflexes, whatever that I arose so fast it even startled me.

"Thank the serving girls for me Maul. Tell them I appreciated their attention and will show my gratitude in the tip when I check out today." He eyed me cautiously. Smiled, then nodded and backed out of the room.

Has the door closed I couldn't help but exhale. What just happened? Where will I go? What will I do?

At least now I was committed to doing something. I stifled a laugh thinking how similar this felt has to the moments before battle. It's surprising how much less tension there is once the fighting starts.

Questions that have been plaguing me since I got here. Up until now I had a goal. Get here and visit my brother’s grave. What had that accomplished besides me staring at his headstone and feeling empty inside. He ended up meaning nothing more to me in the end than a simple assignment I had to complete. Like taking out the trash or hammering another iron sword into oblivion on the anvil.

But now what was I to do with my life? Maybe I should get to know one of the girls here. Settle down and start a farm? They’re always looking for help in the mines. There was a girl I was close to over in Whiterun couple months back. A Companion. Maybe I could head to Whiterun and try to get in her graces again.

Thing is when she started to get serious, I kind of got scared. I can face down a dozen bandits, but the thought of looking a wife and kid in the eye after being gone on patrol for a month. Well,no way am I going to be like my ole man was. Come to think of it. That's not going to be a problem now. Any way you look at it my stay here in Riften is over. In a way I felt relieved. At lease now I have committed myself to a course of action.

[Phuket696]

Maul is right about one thing. I'm going to need to find a source of income. I never had to think about earning money before living in the army. I’ve got some decent money on me has it's hard to spend when the army provides for everything. I guess that money will have to do until I figure things out.

I grabbed a razor and stared into the mirror hardly recognizing myself with a three week stubble beard. I never wore a beard before in my life. I’ve got short blond hair and baby blue eyes, a nice chin. Not really handsome but with my charming smile and my awesome muscular physic, I usually get attention from the ladies.

I like to think that they like a man who takes charge of things, Like Newbies in the army.

They want a man that can handle what comes along and take good care of them. On second thought, I think maybe I'll keep the beard. Just trim it up a little shorter. I am in my mid-twenties, tall, got some money, muscular like I said, but not a meathead. Maybe it's time for me to kick back and enjoy life for a spell. My mom, gods bless her soul, used to tell me that the gods have a plan in store for me. So why fight it.

By the time I grabbed a bite to eat and settled my tab it was getting dark. Everything I owned was on my back and I still have no clue has to what my next destination is to be. Maybe I should just turn around and go back in the Bee and the Barb. That cute little filly Sapphire sure seemed to have appreciated her drink that I bought her. Good looking too. A man could do a lot worse than tangle up with her for an evening.

I could borrow a boat and do some fishing on the lake that Riften sits alongside of. Glancing down at a couple of small wooden skiffs tied up to the docks, I’m surprised I haven’t thought of that already. When I was a kid I used to swim in these canals and go out into lake Henrich every chance I got. Just fishing off the boat hour after hour, watching the white birch trees sway and wondering if it was safe to go home yet.

Instead I decided to head over to the Riften horse stables. They sit just outside the eastern gate and there is always a horse to buy. Even an all-night carriage to anywhere sounds better than hanging around here one more day. Plus that will give me some more time to think things out and decide what I am going to do with myself. Besides there are members of the Thief's guild

around and the Black Briars live here. I'm not looking to get in any trouble.

In one of those moments that change your life completely but you never know it at the time. The kind you rerun in your head for years after and try to assemble like a jigsaw puzzle with some of the pieces missing. My path changed like a cloud covering over the sun.

I witnessed a well-dressed man and his bodyguards posting something on the bulletin board just off to the side of the path to my left. Now the bulletin board is a listing for different jobs of hire for men to check out. Farmers looking for someone to help them get rid of some wolves that are killing their livestock. Lost and found, or occasionally for help to make someone get lost. Something stroked my curiosity and I decided to head over and read the new posting.

Lost. Young girl with facial scars. Is all I take in before someone rudely reaches over my shoulder and snags it of the board. I turn to look at, trouble. The kind of man who doesn't fool anyone into thinking he's anything but trash. Yeah I think, a Trash man.. "This one taken" he grins and his breath about knocks me over. His nose is twisted from being broken a few times and his clothes are filthy. "Say do I knows you? You looks familiar?" He asked through rotten teeth. I hold my hand out not to shake his but to push him out of my space.

"Battle of Ice troll cave" I say to keep him off guard. "I knows I seen you somewhere" Trash scratches but at least he's leaving. Don't say I like the way he keeps peeking over his shoulder at me has he stumbles away.

Sounded like an easy job, easy money. Some poor confused soul wandered out of the temple. Seen it more times than I wished to. Confused men stumbling among the battlefields of the dead searching for Gods know what. Eyes wild, darting side to side and their minds are gone. Always mumbling, searching for something they lost and will never find again.

Temple. Dam. That reminds me that there is a Temple to Mara right here in town. The least I can do before I leave is step in and say a prayer for my late mother, God rest her soul.

[Phuket696]

Pausing before the Temple of Mara steps, I became self-conscious of my deeds of late, my dress. It is bad form to enter a temple wearing light armor and weapons. I hadn't planned on coming here but these are the only clothes I own now. I start thinking about this armor and how I procured it. Back to the maybe what was the start of what has been a very trying month. Remembering my words of blasphemy against the Gods, uttered in painful loss.

My squadron had just cleared a section of tunneling infested with draugr. More than we were used to seeing lately. Some of the troops had gotten cut off when part of the tunnel structure collapsed, and we had just regrouped. Luckily it also crushed some of the rotting, walking corpse draugr. Their haggard, ripped armor hanging off exposed sinew and bone. Dust choked the air in the tunnels and we were getting exhausted. We had cleared our way to a good sized chamber that we knew was near the exit when a rumble shook the ground.

"Hog spit" I heard a man cry, another "How in the Gods name does it fit down here". We turned has a unit and watched has a massive shadow blackened the only exit.

Out of the rubble came the angriest giant we had seen in a long while. Fierce, ugly, mean sucker with a disposition and club to match. Lucky for us has huge has he was, he was having trouble moving around confined in by the tight spaces around us. With each bump of his vast frame against the walls, debris fell and the ground shook. I hoped our luck that he couldn’t get a clean swing would last.

"When did giants and draugr start working together?" Face cried. One of my closest friends, and also my second in command.

"Hold this ground men!" I roared and nudged Face. He followed my glance and immediately read my thoughts. So long have the two of us fought together that words were not needed between us.

He was called Face because he sure was a handsome fellow. Well-liked by all the men. A friend who played the good guy role for the men while I had to play the rooster.

I circled around to the right in a feint to grab the giant’s attention. Dancing in and out with my sword like a suicidal game of chicken. Careful to not stay in range of that studded man-sized club. Face and some men faked retreat. They then climbed up on a narrow rock shelf off to the left.

It worked perfectly.

Has the giant kept trying to swing his big club at me, the men started hammering him with arrows from the cliff. The big slow brute turned to confront this new assault while I viciously attacked at his flank. My imperial steel blade sunk deep. Cutting him open right behind the knee. It seemed to take forever to watch the giant fall, taking part of the wall down with him. We watched with glee only to witness one final act of desperation from the great beast, where the giant’s massive club was tossed straight at my men.

Quickly climbing up on top of the foe I finished him off with a blow to his head and dropped in exhaustion to my knees. The silence struck me fast and iced my heart. Silence meant death.

These where new recruits who were victorious in their first real battle.

There should be yelling, clapping, and shouting. Prayers to the Gods for a glorious victory. Hell we just took down half a mountain. I tried counting the men, mostly new faces and tried recalling all their names. I followed their stares over to cringe, my second in command lying broken near the far wall. I rushed over with a new found energy I didn't like and exhaled preparing for the worst. Face smiled at me has I leaned close to him, his body smashed by the foe’s huge club. “Wish I could meet the girl who’ll steal your heart, my friend” he smiled, then his chest heaved violently twice. "I love you, Turk" he whispered and his eyes went out. A smile half formed on his cherub face. I started looking around for some help that would never come. Every face was filling me with guilt for I had let them down.

Breathless I stood up, my pulse racing, just has a portion of what remained of the outer wall avalanched creating a new opening from the tunnel chamber to the outside.

Sunlight flooded into the chamber. Rays of amber and gold from all the dust fanned out over the morbid scene. A pale golden kaleidoscope of light blinding all of us so encumbered unto the darkness.

"Curse all the Gods, from all the Realms!" I shouted "Never shall I shed a tear for your dead! Never shall I dance by your strings!"

Setting the men about to wrap the bodies and tend to the wounded, I walked off a ways to gather my thoughts. A side passage I never noticed before beckoned near the new opening. Perhaps the cave-in has opened a previously sealed section.

Drawing my sword I entered a small room holding a simple alter with some dried flowers and broken soul stones placed in offering. A small shrine to the god Mara, strange I thought.

A chest lay to the side of the room and in my anger I kicked it with all my might. The lock sprung open and peering inside was startled to find a set of Van Nord armor, Sword and shield beautifully enchanted with red wording inscribed on the facing. Set in dark Ruby, the color of blood.

I threw my imperial sword down and picked up the light VanNord weapons.

Now VanNord was a famous character known for his deeds around Skyrim. He was a master craftsman and it showed. The armor started with a fine helmet that was bear shaped. A nice fur collar for warmth started the dark masculine light armor. Pure function right down to the boots.

The shield was strong but light, a nice decoration on the front and designed so blades could be snagged at the top if needed. The sword was a masterpiece, strong steel with a nice balance and weight. It stayed sharp all the way to its formidable point. It has a sharp straight edge running about a foot from the tip on the top, and then gently rolls back along the remaining length of the blade. Holding it, one believes it was custom fit for themselves.

Waking up in the cell blocks I had momentarily forgotten about the set until I opened the pack of my belonging the guards had brought to the gate. The sword, shield and light armor where inside. Surely Tillius had some hand to play in my receiving such expensive weaponry instead of it being swiped up by the guards. Then again no Imperial soldier could wear this armor.

I am delaying going inside so looking up at the large double wooden doors of the temple of Mara I started climbing the stairs. So now I was confessing to pray to the same Gods I had so often cursed.

[Phuket696]

Entering the temple hall I was flooded with memories from when I was a young kid watching my mother come here to pray. I would sit on the benches for what seemed like hours, twiddling or reading until she would finally notice my impatience and whisper, Go.

The smell of incense, the smoke coming off from the altar intoxicated me. It started bringing back all the old memories and for a brief moment I thought I saw my mom still sitting there in her well-worn spot, on the front right pew.

An ancient leathered old man was just getting up from the benches on the left. The only other soul in the hall was a priestess of Mara, kneeling in prayer before the altar.

He was a bowed old man with thinning white hair dressed in simple working man’s clothing. He stood not much taller than the old wooden cane he held in his hand. The old coot looked up with his weathered face and winked at me. Merriment played out behind his sharp eyes. Has I shuffled over to give him space to pass, he stopped just alongside of me. His hands then reached out, grappling and appraising my armor. This is just great I thought. His knobby head was bobbing up and down, mumbling, almost chanting "yes, yes, good". His bushy old brows frowned for a minute. Then he started shaking his head side to side sadly.

Still half smiling he patted me twice on the chest with his leathered hand. I held the door open for him and almost followed him back outside the temple doors.

Believe me when I say that I was still contemplating making that night carriage run to anywhere. Abandoning this foolishness of prayer to the Gods when I felt drawn like iron to a magnet, pulling me back inside the temple of Mara.

My throat was constricted, my pulse started beating and the hairs on my arms rose unexpectedly. What strange game of the Gods is happening to me lately I questioned myself? My eyes lost focus for a minute, and then they locked in on the small form praying in my mother’s old spot in the front pew.

She looked a waif, definitely a very slim feminine form. She looked thinner than the wrinkled old man himself. Tall for a Nord, so making her look even that much more emancipated.

I walked up to the edge of the front pews and peering over still could not see her face.

She was wearing an old worn dirty cloth robe, its hood draped down low over her forehead. Brownish black dirty hair was hiding half her face. An old worn pair of leather boots with holes in the sides looked to be falling off her feet. Was this the poor lost soul they were looking for?

Her ratted hood was pulled down low and an old brown, blood stained scarf covered from her neck up to just below her eye, concealing all. She hadn't moved since I entered. Sitting there in all her squalor there was still something about her that drew you in.

Having seen beggars healthier and better dressed, I admonished myself. This is ridiculous I thought to myself, still standing to her side between the two rows of benches. How can I help this poor young soul if she is in need, by being such a fool? So I walked over and stood directly in front of her and waited for her to notice me.

"You look for me?" she asked in a low voice, her one visible eye still downcast, her face obscured. "Yelizaveta say. No more have to die."

She looked up at me and her scarf fell to just below her chin revealing from the shadows a face that was carved up straight from the depths of hell. Her dead right eye, a milky white, was staring at me like death itself. Scars and blood wounds swirled everywhere but centering this nightmarish face was a sensuous erotic mouth with ruby red lips that pulled your focus in like an archer’s target.

Next thing I know the temple hall I’m standing in dissolves around me and I gasp.

I am now standing at the newly formed mouth of the tunnel the giant had made where my friend Face had died. This dream starts with me knowing that I stand alone. A dream so real that I can smell the decay of the putrid giant’s carcass behind me. Dust fills my nostrils and chokes my throat.

I’m staring at a large black soul stone I'm holding up against the sun. Time seems different, as if it doesn't yet exist.

Fires dance in the jewel and rainbows of light prism out from the inside capturing my focus like a vice. Looking inside the soul stone I see that deep in the middle of the prism is an eye. It’s searching, looking, then it stops and focuses on me. The pupil of this eye is red like a ruby, surrounded by a white milky way of clustered stars. It is staring at me with a curiosity. A strange passion is felt inside me.

The fires behind this demonic eye grow in intensity and I begin to feel a foreboding coming.

I lower the black soul stone only to discover in my horror that the fire is coming from a large hazel scaled dragon. Flying straight for me, fast has hell. Belching flames that soon will be turning me to ash. Just has I'm raising my left hand in a futile act of defense, my clothes start to ignite.

I turn into a pillar of fire, engulfed like a burning statue. My right hand holds the soul stone at my hip and my left arm is raised like a shield. The hand starts to melt from my palm back, continuing down the length of my left arm and I start screaming.

From within the dragon’s flames emerges a face until it’s filling my vision, a face hideously burned and scarred.

Her dead right eye is milky white, staring at me like my life force is being witnessed. A deep ugly scar is running down her right cheek, looking like a bloody corpse’s teardrop.

The dragon is spinning in circles and quickly retreating turns into a coil, head swallowing its tail. No; it turns into an iris of her left hazel eye. Reddish blood colored wounds cross her face like shooting stars, like a bloody camouflage. Blending in but never quite masking her damaged face and putrid right eye. Her lips, nose and left hazel eye are resplendent, beautiful even.

Returning to the hall, to the present time, I stumble backwards and trip over a basket, crashing against the wall. Stunned and perplexed has to what in the Gods just happened. Whatever spells this witch just evoked upon me, she definitely doesn't need my pity. "I'm not staring at you" I quip, rising to my feet and brushing off my dignity.

Great, what the hell did I just say? She gives me a glare with her one good hazel eye that melts my heart and she whispers to me, "go".

I stumble in retreat over onto the pews across to the left side of the room and sit frozen. I know that look she gave me with her good hazel eye. I have seen it in myself a hundred times, reflected back at me in the armor of the dead. The sadness of having just took a life needlessly. As though the mark knows he is going to die but still insist on fighting you. Like he knew that his soul was already claimed by the Gods and he wanted you to send him there.

Locked in a paralysis grip I sat in the temple of Mara. Filled with shame, revulsion and an unholy desire I could not comprehend.

[Phuket696]

There are potions out there that you can use to embellish your weapon. When a foe is struck the poison travels straight to the heart. It spreads rapidly though the body leaving the victim paralyzed. Their eyes wide open in horror awaiting the end. Other potions and spells that boil your blood, or can turn you cold as ice. Some drain your stamina until you can barely stand. Even worse are the ones that will damage your health making your heart stop beating. I’ve seen spiders that can spit poison twenty yards, blind, bond and then suck their prey dry.

It felt like I was hit by all of them at once.

Yelizaveta? The sound of her name ringing in my head as I sit there with my eyes closed. Nothing is seen in my vision. Nothing is seen in my future. There is nothing that my wandering mind can grasp or comprehend at this moment in time.

I don't know how long I sat there; neither of us moving until I realized the sound of footsteps has wakened me up. Three men. One of them big. No four. The quietest one is staying by the temple doors. A brute, two muscles and a thief. At least my ranger skills have returned to me. There is a system I have learned in the service to identify and track bandits.

A two-handed weapon wielder is a [Meathead], one-handed a [Muscle], Archer, Mage, and Rooster, (The Boss). It works for me. Didn't look but I know the big guy has moved to the right front pew, same place where I was standing a lifetime ago. I exhale and the words from my first instructor, who broke a young newbie in long ago, ring through my head. A kind man who took me in has a young man and molded me into the warrior I am today.

“Exhale newbie, those that forget to breathe die.” He barked. “Worry not about the man who practices a thousand different strikes to kill you. Worry about the man who practices one strike a thousand times." so I did. Repeating it for each taught strike at a time. I am that man.

"Look what we have here boys" a deep voice grumbles. “We didn’t have to go far for our entertainment tonight." Laughs right on que from the muscle which have moved to either side of the pews boxing the young girl in. I open my eye has I sense him grab her from under the chin and lift her head up with his meaty left hand.

"Ugly one too... We're going have to drink a lot before we party with this witch." More laughs.

Looking over I see their quite enjoying themselves. Big guy, mostly fat. All of them are wearing leather armor and big gaudy weapons. Cheap ones, by the looks of it too. Guess it looks good for your macho ego, until they break in your hands during combat.

"The belly is full, but the eyes are hungry" Yelizaveta says glaring back at Meathead.

He studies her face like a man buying a horse and his eyes get small, sinking into his fat face.

"Hungry? Oh yeah witch, we're hungry. You’re going to feed us for a long time" He smiles.

You know I'm beginning to dislike smiles. The priestess hurries over to confront them. "Please good sirs. This is a house of worship where" and that was has far has she got. She’s sliding across the floor, sprawled out in front of me after Meathead backhanded her, his other hand still holding the girl up by the neck. More laughs and jeers while the priestess looks over to me.

You know I've always tried to do the right things in life. My pa was a piece of crap. My brother was a piece of crap. But my Mother 'God bless her soul', will rise from the grave and beat me with a stick if I don't throw everyone out of this holy temple. The pleading look from the priestess laying at my feet dispels the last hope I ever had of being able to live with myself again if I don’t act.

"You crossed the line Meathead." I say standing up. All the laughter stops and the sound of weapons being drawn fill the room. But not mine. The girl, quick and nimble has a cat moves straight up and flips backwards over the pew to stand on the seat of the bench behind her. The big guy looks at his empty hand like he was trying to count to six. Then he looks over at me with anger in those hungry eyes.

"I knows that man!" the thief at the door cries. When I look over to the door, of course, its Trash man. "He wants the girl too. Seen him at the Post".

"Go tell Maven" Meathead commands and the trash goes out into the street.

The girl is glaring at me. Suddenly she spins and kicks the muscle standing between the two rows blocking the exit. Half way into the move she twists and back kicks him again in the chest, sending him flying into the stone fire cauldron behind the benches that light the temple hall. Then in a blink of an eye she's out the door.

"You just caused us a lot of work Bud" Meathead grows and reaches across to grab the priestess. Which is a really stupid move has his weapon is in his right hand and he's reaching across with his left. I was impressed with the girl’s footwork. I have never seen that style of fighting before, so I kick him right on the bridge of the nose has he bends over for the priestess. It hurts like hell and bleeds a lot. He swings his sword at me with all his bulk, while I step into him, catching his arms halfway through the top of the swing. He's heavy enough that the momentum takes me down to one knee, but I quickly recover and get back on my feet.

Straining has hard has he can the blade comes down to within a pebble width of my head. But at this point it’s simple leverage and him trying to push down from over his head is a lot harder than me pushing up. Having enough of this piece of lard, my leg comes up and kicks him in the jewels. I strip his weapon and flat blade slap him with it along the side of his fat head.

One down. I drop the crappy sword and raise my bare hands up.

The remaining muscle comes forward unsure of himself. I fake to punch him and he raises his shield. This is just too easy. Grabbing the edge of the shield I slam it across his body into his right wrist. Weapon dropped, I then put both hands on the sides of the shield and ram it straight up under his chin. Two down and I’m not even warmed up. ‘That’s Master Sargent, Sir!” I growl reliving my glory days. Just couldn’t help myself, plus I feel like a new man all of a sudden.

The priestess has fled down a stairway to the right and number three is still dazed from the girls attack. Pretty fancy footwork from the waif I think to myself again. Well I can kick too and I put his lights out on my way to the door.

[Maharg67]

Your writing is very good, enjoyed reading it. Would suggest that you do more separation of areas of your writing and perhaps decrease the size of your font.

 

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