Of Elves and Swords

A roleplay transcript by Lyrena Auberan and Iskrin Orin'Darr

:: Iskrin Orin'Darr "Malcom you sorry excuse for a human, bring me another beer or I swear to the heavens I'm going to fuck you up," he said, sending the barkeep scurrying down the spiral staircase to the taproom.

:: Lyrena Auberan had pushed open the doors of the Wayward King tavern before entering nonchalantly. Her eyes, however, stared with purpose. A few of the seedier patrons promptly looked away with their heads craned down, focusing quietly on their meals and drinks once they saw the new leader of the Guardians so suddenly prodding around - armed, and in full uniform. Some minutes before that, the normally perceptive Iskrin may have noticed a Guardian or two, nosing about outside the tavern. Around the same time, heavy, armored steps and the clanking of armor sounded after the doors had been opened. But it seems that particular 'patron' left after only about a minute. Perhaps after some questions were asked, and answers were given. Now, Lyrena was making her way upstairs - first noticing a slightly frightened Malcom reluctantly preparing another drink. The Dame Commander turned her head to the right - and found the patron she had come to see. "First Estril.", she cordially called out while approaching, studying the male elf and the state he was in. By the look on her own face, Iskrin could likely tell the Blood elf hadn't come to share a beer with him.

:: Iskrin looked up at the sound of footsteps that were not, to his annoyance, those of Malcom returning with another beer. The Dame Commander of the Guardians hove into view instead and Iskrin let out an audible groan. "Lyrena," he said, ignoring the proper form of address, his tone neutral but threatening not to remain so. "What have you come to pester me about?" he asked, tilting his head as though he was listening to something before continuing. "Ha! Shouldn't you be at your little desk doing paperwork? Isn't that why the King hired you?" Again the pause, as though he was listening to another voice. "I am trying to drink in peace - if that fucking fat man would bring me more ale." He tensed his muscles as the Dame Commander moved closer, his hand moving - unnoticed by him - to the sword hilt slung from his waist and caressing the handle. As she approached, Lyrena would have noted Iskrin's usually smooth skin was sallow and worn and his eyes were red-rimmed and had a haunted look, as though he was permanently trying to see something that couldn't quite be seen.

:: Lyrena was a bit taken aback by her fellow elf's unexpected abrasiveness, having usually witnessed Iskrin as a man with tact. Her expression remained calm and stern - for now - even as the First Estril continued to taunt her. What did momentarily make the Dame Commander tense up was noticing Iskrin reaching for something. A dagger? A… Hilt without a blade? She very clearly eyed the weapon for a few moments longer, though her gaze strayed after it seemed Iskrin would not brandish it. "You will give him nothing.", Lyrena commanded the bartender behind her without turning to meet him in the eye. Instead, she met with Iskrin's eyes, though only after noticing his almost haunted-looking flesh. "What is the matter with you?", she bluntly asked afterwards. "Does this have something to do with what took place down there, in the Undercity?", she followed up, and Iskrin could likely sense by her intonation that that was the reason she had visited him now.

:: Iskrin laughed, but the sound was not humorous. It was a cold, hollow laugh with an almost metallic ring to it. "You speak of things far beyond your jurisdiction, Blood Elf. What the AmranKai do in the Undercity - or in any city - is no concern of a Guardian." He allowed his eyes to wander over her for a moment and then shifted in his seat to address Malcolm: "You will bring me a beer if you don't wish to end up in the canal," he said quietly, but with a degree of menace that made the big bartender look like he might loose his bowels. "There is nothing wrong with me, Lyrena," Iskrin continued, returning his gaze to the Dame Commander. "I am the First Estril of the AmranKai. There cannot be anything wrong with me." He paused, tilting his head again for a moment in the position that made it appear he was listening to something. "Yes, yes," he said distractedly. Then more obviously addressed to Lyrena: "Just leave us alone. You would do better not to put your nose in here. I'd hate for you to be the shortest serving Commander of the Guardians."

:: Lyrena perked her long brows, her head tilted lightly as she continued to take in Iskrin's taunts. By now, it looked clear to her that something unusual was happening with the First Estril. Something beyond the effects of a few mugs of beer. "You will go downstairs now.", Lyrena herself ordered the shivering bartender in a similarly rigid and cold voice, excluding the dripping malice that Iskrin's own words had. "The safety of Ansa'fel is my jurisdiction. The previous Lord Commanders may not have included the Undercity in this, but do not think me too much like them.", the Blood elf confidently retorted. She had tried to maintain her own calmness, but it was clear her patience was starting to run low. She noticed the First Estril seemingly pausing every now and then, as if to listen something, or someone. His comment about 'us' she tried to dismiss as him referring to Malcom, but the lingering doubts on her face were present, and growing. That final threat made the Dame Commander blink. A momentary confusion was replaced by a more impatient seriousness. She huffed through her nose a single time, trying to keep her cool. "You would do well to never needlessly threaten me again. I'd hate for you to spend this night in a jail cell.", she firmly threatened herself, only to step closer again. "Now, you will tell me what has soured your mood so. And the relations between us.", she practically ordered, her eyes watching his own. "And you will tell me what that is.", she added, gaze pointing to the hilt on his hip. "And why you keep looking at it."

:: Iskrin reached down quickly to grip the sword hilt as she mentioned it, as though afraid she might try to take it away from him. A startled, trapped look crossed his face for a moment and was quickly replaced with a languid smile. "Oh this?" he said calmly. "This is Ke'ntor, the Sword of Askamran. Shall I show it to you?" He moved to rise, drawing the hilt from his belt, a sort of lopsided grimace crossing his face. As he came to his feet, he brought the hilt in a smooth movement across his body and his lips formed a word that she wouldn't quite have been able to catch. In a moment, a white gash of light burst from the hilt and a hissing, crackling noise filled the air. Iskrin stood staring lovingly at the sword's blade as it glowed between him and the Dame Commander. He made no move to do anything else, apparently entirely absorbed now in gazing at his weapon. "So pretty, isn't it?" he asked in a tone that was almost pleading. "And so important." This time his tone was different. There was an edge to it, as though someone else was speaking with him. Someone cold and hard and unkind. "We can protect the Kingdom now," he said. "Yes we can. No one will beat us. Many have tried, haven't they? But we are always the victor. We are." He smiled to himself, and then seemed to remember that Lyrena was there. "Go home, Lyrena. We do not need you, and your idle threats are so much flotsam on the shores of impotence."

:: Lyrena reflexively raised her right hand, as if to reach for the axe on her back while the First Estril brandished the object on his belt, but after a moment's deliberation, the Blood elf lowered her hand. Wordlessly, she stepped back as Iskrin stood up. The Dame Commander watched him sternly, like a hawk, still concerned whether this unusual theater might result in bloodshed. The Blood elf leaned back as Iskrin suddenly activated the Sword of Askamran, watching as its bright blade severed a few branches of the large plant beside the First Estril - just by Iskrin holding it near them. A testament to the weapon's sharpness. She then listened to the increasingly distorted words that came from Iskrin's mouth. Lyrena readjusted her footing a bit, as if preparing to assume a stance of combat. "You will relinquish it.", was all she had to say after Iskrin's affectionate descriptions of Ke'ntor and their powerful alliance. Her voice almost shook for a moment. Her lip trembled, though her face remained relatively brave and focused. "Or I will take it from you.", the Blood elf followed up with, the command so deliberately strict and hard, as if to wipe away the momentary buckling she had almost allowed to slip through previously.

:: Iskrin chuckled and lifted the blade up higher between them. "She wants you," he said to the sword. "She does." He replied to himself in that other voice. "So give me to her." Iskrin looked up to meet Lyrena's eyes. For a moment - a brief, heartbeat of a moment - there was a look like fear or sadness in his eyes, and then he moved. His fighting style, usually agile and fluid, was slow and mechanical, as though extreme fatigue and a degree of reluctance were holding back his motions. He swung Ke'ntor in a short arc at the Blood elf's breastplate, a sigh escaping his lips, as though this brought both immense pleasure and pain to him.

:: Lyrena's own heart was starting to beat against the breastplate that Iskrin looked to be targeting. The Dame Commander wanted to give the First Estril the benefit of doubt one last time when she saw him raising his sword - perhaps he was showing it off yet again. But when she saw her fellow elf's sway and his stance shift, the Blood elf widened her eyes, and reflexively brought her left forearm before herself - at which point her Sentinel Shield began to activate. Enigmatic mechanisms inside the dome loudly thummed each time a plate sprung out - until the full circle formed just as the Sword of Askamran slammed loudly against the shield, producing an unnatural echo. The Blood elf grunted as the impact nearly forced her to a squat. Even though it pressed against her shield, Lyrena could somehow sense the immense, lethal sharpness of that magical sword. She wondered how it hadn't broken her shield. While Iskrin was still pressing on her, the Blood elf gathered her strength, and attempted to abruptly bash Iskrin's sword and sword arm off her shield, before stepping back to create some space between them. "You will stop this now, Iskrin.", the Blood elf growled out, raising her shield again as she watched her opponent.

:: Iskrin let out a howl of rage as his swing ended abruptly on the Blood elf's shield. He was pushed back and appeared for a moment not to really notice that he had been. There was a look of confusion on his face as he stared at the sword and then at the shield and then back again. "What the fuck?" he said out loud. "What. The. Fuck." He held the sword out from him, staring at it. "What is that?" he asked, pointing at the shield. "It's nothing. Get past her guard. But it stopped you. Luck, nothing more. Take her down now you fucking coward." He stood, swaying on his feet. His skin was pale and his haunted eyes looked more and more wild. His sword arm started to rise without him really noticing it, holding Ke'ntor high in the air. Then he lunged forward, the tip aimed to the left of the shield, pushing forward toward Lyrena's unprotected stomach. "Gah!" he yelled as his body moved, almost as though it was dragged along after the blade. "Fuck you!"

:: Lyrena stood back as Iskrin regained his balance, her chest heaving and thumping from the adrenaline. Even her mostly pursed lips had begun to release quick, short breaths. The First Estril's haunted words instilled a new anxiety in her - that he seemed to believe a shield shouldn't have been able to stop the sword. While stalking him with his gaze, the Blood elf did occasionally notice a sort of ambivalence within Iskrin - a restraint and regret that very shallowly surfaced in the midst of the malice and evilness. She almost considered addressing him again - but as she saw the nimble elf lunge at her, the Blood elf took a wide and heavy side-step to avoid the pierce of that lethal blade. Then, finding herself diagonally towards Iskrin, the Dame Commander roared as she tried to boot her opponent in the stomach with her metal sabaton. If successful, Lyrena would attempt to capitalize on the brief stun, and spun a single time while aiming the ridge of her shield sideways towards Iskrin's chest - attempting to slam him with it hard enough to break a rib, potentially, hoping it would be enough to make the First Estril yield, or drop his weapon.

:: Iskrin screamed again, a sort of feral sound like the scraping of metal across metal. As the Dame Commander moved to boot him in the stomach, his sword arm came up looking to sever her leg. At the very last moment, though, his body jerked from his left shoulder, shifting the blade in its path just enough that it merely grazed the protective wrappings. He screamed again. "Oh fuck you elf," he shouted, though the words appeared directed at himself, rather than Lyrena. As her foot made contact, he exhaled sharply and doubled over. A smile crossed his face. His sword arm wavered for a moment, and then the Dame Commander's shield struck home, forcing any remaining air from his chest completely. As it connected, a crunching sound could be heard and the AmranKai keeled over backwards, smashing the table as he fell. He lay gasping on top of it, his arm trying weakly to raise Ke'ntor while his eyes stared at Lyrena with a look of desperation and pleading. "Veshz," he whispered, eyeing the sword and hoping that she would understand this was the word of power to deactivate it. Then: "Silmariel," he said, as his eyes rolled back into his skull and he lost consciousness, his sword arm twitching impotently next to him, inching the blade nearer and nearer to his own body with each small jerk.

:: Lyrena breathed heavily, a sheen of sweat already glistening her visage, as the Blood elf stood over her now fallen opponent. Another bout of renewed adrenaline as her mind raced over the fact that her leg had almost been cut off clean. Were it not for a moment of restraint that slowed the First Estril's hand just enough. The Dame Commander straightened her posture, trying to calm herself as she loomed over the injured and seemingly pleading Iskrin. The word he weakly whispered to her was not one she readily wanted to repeat. But Lyrena did seem to understand the voice uttering it wasn't the one threatening and taunting her for the past minutes. Her golden eyes beamed a quick look of understanding to the First Estril, just before his eyes closed. Noticing a seemingly ghostly presence start to aim the blade towards its owner, Lyrena momentarily folded the Sentinel Shield, and with a loud grunt, lunged quickly and suddenly towards Iskrin's hand, trying to rip the sword's hilt off his weakened grasp. "Veshz!", she reluctantly shouted at the blade while holding it - before throwing the hilt towards the wall, should the command be successful. Just that brief moment she had held the Sword of Askamran was enough to instil change in her mood. The urgency and adrenaline in her lessened, and the Blood elf instead attained a more somber and morbid look on her face. She felt a cold shiver down her spine as she watched the hilt of that blade, now several feet from her. She then tried to calm herself, wiping the sweat off her forehead. The few patrons downstairs were loud, theorizing on what must have been taking place. A brave one or two had climbed the stairs partially, trying to peek past the corner at the aftermath of the fight that had taken place. For now, Lyrena ignored them. Tiredly, she walked over to the window, and cracked it open, catching the gaze of the Guardian she had ordered to stand nearby - but seemingly to not intervene. "Get in here.", she shouted at the man, who quickly did so. Within moments, she heard the heavy, armoured man racing up the stairs. A man understandably confused at what he had witnessed. A mess of a room, a sweaty Dame Commander, and an unconscious First Estril. "Take him to the House of Healing. You will stand watch by his bed at all times, or you will find another who will. Should he wake up and turn violent, you will do everything short of killing him to put an end to it.", the Blood elf ordered to the Guardian, who quickly picked up Iskrin on his shoulder. Alone again, Lyrena looked towards the discarded sword. Reluctantly, she stepped closer to it. Her hand opened, fingers inching towards the hilt. She grabbed it, and squeezed.