Despite the heat and humidity of southern Cyrodiil, Leyawiin was pleasant and relaxing, especially after our brief time within Bravil. The local wore full length dresses and various other loose fitting, comfortable garments to deal with the stifling humidity and year-round temperatures. After years in northern Vvardenfell the heat left me sweating almost constantly that replacing my clothing with cooler cloth of a much thinner weave only went somewhat towards making it comfortable.
Viconia however seemed to revel in the heat and the local culture. While she admitted to feeling at home in the violent debauchery and crime-rife city of Bravil there was something about the way the locals that attracted her. Bravil may have been incredibly like Menzoberranzan but with worse plumbing and sewage; but Leyawiin was a city deeply influenced by its mix of cultures. Traditionally Nibenese, it had somehow managed to resist a significant portion of the external influences to remain one of the last true regions where the culture could be experienced. While primarily a mix of Argonian and Khajiit, the Nibenese shone through. Easily one in every three of the locals were Argonians, several Khajiit spotted with every turn of the head but the influences of the Empire and the locals were obvious.
For the first few days there was little to do but wander the streets and see the sights. The Fighters Guild here was idle, but not through laziness or ill-discipline such as those in Skingrad. There were no contracts to be had as the only organised source of competition for the Guild within Cyrodiil was based within the southern city. The Blackwood company; founded by mercenary remnants after the Arnesian war, and Beastfolk deserters from the Legion they had muscled in on the local area. By undercutting the local guild and taking contracts that no self-respecting guildsman would even consider, the Blackwood Company had quickly grown in size and strength. Within a decade they had ended up outnumbering the two dozen Fighters with over a cohort's worth of sell-swords that were little better than thugs and bandits. The tensions between the two groups of mercenaries had been growing ever since the Company was formed, and brawls and scuffles in the streets and various taverns were not unheard of.
On the second night we had arrived I found myself and Viconia stuck between a group of guildsmen and locals in a tavern, using a combination of our reputations and presences to break up what was going to be a brawl if it continued for any longer. The members of the guild in Leyawiin were strong, courageous and highly skilled ,but unfortunately the lack of regular paying jobs or any form of action have left them bored and making their own fun. The number of stories we heard of punch ups between the guild members and locals, guards and members of the Blackwood Company were almost without number. It was almost a tradition or habit by now for the local guildsmen to have one of their number in jail a couple of times each week.
With no contracts to be had and a new dynamic between the Viconia and I, we simply explored the city. For the first two days we did little more than introduce ourselves to the local guild before exploring the market places and plazas. After my plunge into the ruins of Nornalhorst our wealth had only increased once more, leaving us yet again with two pouches each filled with gemstones and other valuables.
Early in the morning on the second day Viconia and I were making our way through the city's markets, looking over the collections of trinkets, oddities and goods from throughout the bounds of the Empire. Although there was no affectionate touching or holding of hands between the two of us, anyone watching could see that there was something between us. Whether it was a soft caress of a shoulder or a briefest touch to gain each other's attentions, we were infinitely more relaxed and comfortable in each other's presences compared to the weeks and months previously.
Despite the confirmed threat of Oblivion hanging over the city there was no fear like what had infected Anvil. The guard was strong, well experienced and highly trained and with the incredible example of the Order of the White Stallion's charge into the portal on everyone's lips it was as though nothing untoward was affecting the Empire. Trade continued to flourish, dozens of peddlers and merchants were out in force on every street corner and filling the trading squares with the array of goods. Almost anything could be bought here in a smaller copy of what could be found in the Imperial City but with a considerable Nibenese streak. Crafts made from amber, carved figurines in wood and ivory, spices and an incredible array of chocolates and other sugared foodstuffs were in the hundreds. With a region so agriculturally diverse and rich it was almost as though we had stepped into a different world. The rich bounty of the jungles, rainforests and marshes ensured that even the beggars were able to dress in silks and the food was either incredibly sweet and overwhelmingly spicy.
From throughout the Empire traders stopped at the city on the way north and the teeming multitudes on City Isle. Jewellery from Summerset Isle, Nordic swords, Orcish armour, and rare textiles from Morrowind could be found here, and it wasn't long before Viconia found several more pieces of jewellery to add to her small collection.
Making our way through the markets I watched as Viconia flitted from stall to stall, finding herself the centre of attention not only from the men but also from the women. She was dressed in a flowing silken dress that if it showed any more skin it would have created a minor scandal. Even with the underdressed state of the locals and the way that they dressed in silks and toga, she turned heads wherever she went. But what was surprising especially to Viconia was the way that many of the local women also approached her. The local Nibenese population appeared to be either tattooed or sporting several piercings or both, showing their cultural legacies through modifying their flesh and bodies. Some of the more fervent in their practices even sported considerable amounts of scarification, etching their family histories on their flesh with acids or sharpened blades. Viconia's natural beauty was enough to turn heads, but the mapped history of pain and suffering was becoming ever more prominent every day. Appearing as greyed lines across her ebony flesh, the sheer amount of scarring was becoming even more visible as her skin continued to darken ever further from the sun's kiss. It did not take long before some of the more courageous of the locals drew closer to her to ask about the patterns and how she had come about them.
The looks of horror at the truth in her words seemed to keep Viconia amused when she told portions of her tales, but the increase in her confidence was startling. I had not noticed the ways that she had kept her flesh hidden over the months previous; thinking that it was simply because the sun burned her far more than those of the surface world. The fact that she had been incredibly self-conscious about the scarring and imperfections and chosen to hide from the world was only noticeable at the sight of the way that she now carried herself. Although I was mentally kicking myself for not noticing earlier, I couldn't help but grin at the sight of the pair of women fawning over Viconia. They were noblewomen by the purple silks of their dresses and they followed her like a shadow for several minutes while convincing her that the scarring only made her even more attractive.
Between the two noblewomen and two clothing vendors that they dragged her to, they managed to distract her as they fawned over her. The highborn women were utterly set on finding something more suitable than the dress she was currently wearing, delving through the piles of clothes with an excitable energy that only left Viconia looking confused in the midst of it all. Her face was alight with a rare kind of pleasure as the two vendors began competing against each other by pulling out finer and finer dresses that were so expensive that even the two nobles shrank back. Viconia ate up the attention, running her fingers through the finery that only the two of us knew that we could afford.
"Greetings good sir." One of the nearby vendors called out. "You look like someone who could benefit from my stall."
Turning and looking over the middle aged orc standing proudly before his wares, I saw how his cart was almost groaning under the weight of the weapons that were arrayed upon it. Further behind him at the corner of a nearby alley stood his shop; a simple smithy that seemed unsuited for the skill and experience of the Orc blacksmith.
"What have you got for me?" I replied, wandering over to him as he beamed and stepped backwards to his cart.
"Whatever you need." There was a laugh from the greenskin. Like the rest of his kind he was monstrously large, chest and shoulders half as wide again than mine and consisting almost entirely of muscle. Flecks of white were beginning to win their battle against the last of his thinning hair, but the beard that clung to his face like moss was still thick and like steel wire.
"I've got anything you need to remove a problem in your life. Just depends on what your preference is." There was no doubt that he knew who I was and the looks that he sent to, and received from the other vendors spoke volumes. The others were upset that he had managed to gain the attention of one of the heroes of Kvatch, and he was proud that such a person was looking over his wares.
Like most of his kind, his craft had been made with an innate gift in the art of forging metal. It was a very closely run tie between Orckind's ability in creating weapons, and their natural skill in wielding them. Like a lot of people, I believed that their expertise in one increased the other, and this particular Orc's wares seemed to go a way towards proving it.
Axes, Maces, warhammers, swords, flails, polearms, daggers and battle picks were arrayed in a carpet of death dealing implements. Each one was forged from various materials and in various designs. Most were obviously Imperial, even if some were made from more than just simple folded steel. I ran my fingers over a dagger carved from what was undeniably smelted dwemer metal and a massive greatsword as long as I was tall, forged from the dull green of orichalcum.
Each piece had been lovingly crafted, forged with the skill and might of the orc standing beside me as I picked a few of the weapons up in turn, feeling their balance and weight and marvelling at both. Nearly seven kilograms of solid beaten metal ensured that it was a weapon designed for only the strongest of swordmen and was sturdy enough to bash its way through armour with its weight alone. Knowing full well that it had been made for one of his own kind I dragged the enormous greatsword from the cart, feeling his amused eyes resting on me as I gave it a few experimental twirls.
The amusement of the orc and several of the other witnessed died and was replaced with a combination of awe and respect as I wielded the blade effortlessly and left it humming after cutting through the air. So focussed on the blade they all had failed to noticed how my bunched arms had grown slightly in size and my face tightened in more than just concentration. The sword was perfectly balanced but with a blade twice as long as the Light of Dawn, and nearly four times as long as Sunchild it was not something I would go to battle with.
"That's a hell of a blade." I said simply, handing the sword to the bemused orc as he laughed at the sight of me wielding such a weapon with apparent ease.
"You're bloody strong for an Imperial." He said half-jokingly, giving me a quick glance as the building commotion behind me snagged his attention. "Ugh... What in Zenithar's name is going on now?"
I turned, looking over crowds in the marketplace scattering aside from a large group of armoured warriors marching through the plaza. There was nearly a dozen of them, all fully armoured and carrying an array of weapons clasped to their belts and shoulders. Every single one of them were clad in blackened suits of armour; some full plated suits that would not have looked out of place on a knight, and others in various boiled leathers and chainmail that jingled with every step.
"Ah shit." The orc smith muttered behind me under his breath. "Here we go again."
As the armoured group marched with distinctive purpose towards us the crowds scattered in their wake. Impressive and intimidating in their armour the Blackwood Company members cleared a path, knocking people aside indiscriminately without any form of restraint. A crash of pottery echoed through the marketplace as a trader's cart was overturned and screams and shouts of pain were clearly audible over the press.
Jaw clenching and teeth grinding in my head I watched as one of the company shouldered his way through a young family struggling to herd their children out of the path of the armoured warriors. Towering over them the Altmer sellsword didn't even bother slowing, punching the father in the face and kicking his daughter in the stomach with a permanently ingrained sneer on his elven features. The child's mother was left screaming and trying desperately to calm her child who looked barely over ten years of age while her husband was left sprawled out on the cobblestones.
One of the armoured company members leading the group was visibly shorter than the others, who overall seemed to consist mostly of Khajiit and Argonians. The Wood Elf leading the group was only just coming up to my shoulders and that was only because of the heavy boots he wore.
"That's them." He said simply, gesturing to Viconia and I as the rest of the people in the marketplace found pressing business elsewhere. All of the traders were trying to move their laden carts and wagons and the orc smith had made a hasty retreat into his store where the sounds of locks being snapped shut were clearly audible.
The sound of the voice brought immediate recognition and I laughed loudly at the Bosmer dressed in a suit of Blackwood Company armour. "Maglir! You turd sucking arsehole! Is this where you ended up?!"
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He paled visibly, shrinking in statue as it had appeared that he had his hopes resting on being unrecognisable in his new armour and with his helm hiding his face. Despite the relative newness of the Blackwood armour, it still somehow managed to appear to be at least two sizes too large for him. Completely ignoring me, the rest of the party stepped forward until the smaller Bosmer was lost in the middle of a wall of blackened, burnished metal.
An Argonian with the build of a salt water crocodile stepped forward, bristling in his own gleaming black plate. He was easily twenty kilograms heavier than me even without his armour and I suddenly found myself wishing that Viconia and I had worn our own for our walk in the city. We only had our swords clasped to our belts and nothing more than clothes on our backs, against seven fully armoured and armed Blackwood mercenaries and the cowering Maglir.
"You're not welcome here, Hero." The Argonian hissed, drawing the words out menacingly. I couldn't help but think of the snake I had seen in the market the day previously as the Khajiit drew it from a basket with a flute. The short frills that trembled on the lizard's neck and head were extremely familiar.
"There are two of us here you know." Viconia said with a cold expression and without the slightest hint of concern in her voice.
"You don't count bitch."
The glare that she gave the muscled Khajiit standing beside the Argonian would've killed a lesser creature and she folded her arms neatly. The expression mightn't have changed but I could feel the simmering fury burning deep within her. Like the rest of the fighters apart from Maglir, the Khajiit looked large enough to punch his way through a pine door and there was no fear from any of them. Not that any of them should have been feeling any fear in the situation. Three Khajiit, two Argonians, a towering brute of a Nord with a massive beard and scarred face, a foul looking Dunmer and the tall Altmer all dressed in their armours and weaponry. All of them against a pair of unarmoured individuals carrying nothing more than their swords. Against anyone else it would have been an impossible situation but I could already feel the immense strength and speed of the vampire threading its way through my muscles.
"Leyawiin doesn't need you, nor does it want you." The Argonian continued, ignoring the way Viconia and I stood facing them down. "The Fighters guild doesn't need any more scum filling its ranks."
Gesturing to the group of them I laughed in his face. "Judging by the company you keep, it looks like you have the monopoly on scum."
There was long drawn out hiss from the lizard, like a pot coming to boil and I didn't even bother keeping the smirk off my face.
"Well then, looks like we're just going to have to teach you a lesson." Stepping forward from the group the Dunmer swaggered in Viconia's direction, looking over her with his thoughts plain on his face. "We'll take your woman and whatever else you're carrying. You can have her back once we've finished taking turns."
I suppressed the laugh that I had at the paling expression on Viconia's face. Mistaking it for fear, the Dumner moved even closer, the uncontrollable lust evident in his eyes as he grabbed for her wrist and shoulder. The Argonian watched me intently, seeing how I stood totally unconcerned at the unfolding events and realising with a start that something was wrong when I could no longer hold back my grin.
The word of command to the Dumner was cut off even before it exited his mouth as the dark elf suddenly started shrieking and dropped to his knees. As he grabbed Viconia by the wrist she had twisted his arm into a lock, wrenching it with a series of pops and cracks before stepped backwards from the man. Blood spurted from the horrible injury to his wrist; the hand bent right back until the bones had split the flesh and left his palm and fingers pressed flush with the underside of his forearm. Despite the chainmail and netch leather that he wore it had also appeared as though a new joint had grown in his forearm as everything below the injury flopped bonelessly like a dead fish.
Screaming and clutching at the terrible wound, the Dumner knelt before the now visibly livid Drow and her expression of utter hatred and rage. Digging her fingers into his scalp and grabbing a fistful of hair she punched him right in the face, mashing his nose in a spurt of blood before delivering another four blows that left the dark elf comatose and bleeding into the cobblestones.
Shaking her fist to remove the stinging impact of the blows and to flick away the unconscious fighter's blood from her fingers she stepped back, staring at them all as though she was daring them to try something else. Everyone except for myself seemed to have been transformed into statues bearing expressions of disbelief and amazement her reaction and how quickly she had disabled the fighter.
"No killing." I said, looking over the group standing before us wearing expressions of soul-consuming rage.
"You are hardly in the position to be giving orders!" the Argonian roared, pointing at me with a clawed digit.
"I wasn't talking to you snake." I gestured to Viconia massaging her knuckles. "I was talking to her."
Rolling her eyes at me I saw how she rose herself up onto the balls of her feet, relaxing her body in preparation for fighting. "Ula. Have it your way. They might wish that they were dead after I'm finished."
To the utter astonishment of the Blackwood Fighters Viconia and I launched ourselves at the remainder. Not waiting for the group of them to attack we instead took the initiative, charging the armoured group and yet not drawing our own weapons. They had come to force us out of the city, perhaps delivering a beating beforehand as murder was not something that they wanted to hang for. While they were carrying their weapons none of them reached for them even despite their surprise.
I cracked my knuckles across the face of a snarling Khajiit, feeling flesh separate on a fang even as the furred creature staggered backwards holding its jaw. Dodging a rushed haymaker from the cursing and snarling Argonian I swept his legs out from under him, proving to everyone that without my armour I was a lot faster than any of them could manage. The metallic impact of the lizard slamming hard into the ground was felt through my legs even as I blocked a different attack from the bleeding Khajiit. The catperson was deadly with his attacks, swiping and pawing and kicking with all the strength and agility of a mountain lion. Using his claws to deadly effect he consistently struck at my face in the attempt to disorientate me, as anyone in a fight instinctively sought to protect their sight. He was quickly turning into a fur covered blur of movement, twisting, twirling and darting and all the while trying to sink his claws into my bared flesh.
Roaring and spitting curses of such force and description that I struggle not to imagine his words, the tall Altmer strode into the fray. Two metres tall and thin in comparison to the other members of the Company he used his size to his advantage; kicking out with his long legs with bone shattering force. As tall and powerful as he was, he had neither the speed or agility as the Khajiit or Argonian who was slowly picking himself up from the ground, but he made up for it in sheer power. Against someone like myself with the increasing speed and strength of the vampire flowing through my limbs it was not going to be anywhere near enough.
Ducking under a massive forward kick I felt the wind of his armoured leg brush past my face. The kick had enough strength to shatter wood but after missing me it had left him dangerously overbalanced, allowing me to grab him by the ankle and push the leg up and back towards him. With a half-cry of surprise, he teetered precariously as I pushed up until his leg was higher than his shoulder. There was a moment of flailing panic in the tall elf before I took his other leg out from under him, dropping him painfully onto the cobblestones.
Behind me the sudden bruising impact of a fist into my ribs knocked the wind out of me, and I staggered away with one hand clutching my side as I parried off the following attacks from the Khajiit. Taking full advantage of the opening as I dropped the Altmer, the furred fighter had come in swinging, thankfully putting himself between me and the hissing Argonian who finally got to his feet. Blocking a series of blows from the Khajiit I twisted around, grasping the Argonian by an outstretched wrist before twisting and throwing him headfirst into a cart full of pastries and baked goods.
The cart overturned, catapulting food in all directions and turning the Blackwood Sergeant's burnished armour into a riot of flour, sugar and various coloured jams. The increased swearing was not pleasant from my downed foe as he swiped his muzzle free of clinging cakes and icing, hissing with hate and frills and teeth fully bared.
My minotaur leather boot smashed him back into the mess with a squelch, and I backhanded the Altmer as he too struggled to rise to his feet from where I had dropped him. With the both of them down for the moment I spun, using the short few seconds to deal with the growling Khajiit.
Punching my fists out, I smashed into his guard with a pair of lightning quick punches and mashed my knuckles into the cat's face with a solid right cross. It staggered back, blinking the sudden wave of tears out of its eyes as I spun on my heel, turning full 360 degrees and using my momentum to smash a wicked backhand right across its jaw. I felt bone break and teeth splinter as I smashed it right off its feet in a furry and dazed mass of pain. It lay there, gurgling through the blood flooding its mouth and I saw with grim satisfaction how its jaw was now very obviously broken and limp. A simple boot to the head put the cat into blessed unconsciousness and left only two dazed attackers left.
Viconia had already knocked three of her assailants down. The massive Nord fighter was on his knees choking on a crushed windpipe, and the second Argonian was completely out cold and almost completely buried under clothes where it had landed in a market stall. Of the two Khajiit that had rushed her only one was left standing, the other laying on its back cradling a leg that was now very obviously jointed the wrong way. All she had left was a female Khajiit who was giving her an even fight as they both sparred with brutal and effective moves. As for Maglir; he was the only one keeping out of the fight, trying his best to pretend to be invisible and watching in horror as we bashed our way through his comrades.
The Argonian was the next to go down despite his skill and armour. Surrounded by the shredded remains of the cart's wares and trying to rise in the slippery remnants he could do little as I stepped closer and knocked him out cold with a kick to the side of the head.
Suddenly alone, the tall Altmer found himself facing me down by himself and the bloom of fear in his eyes was obvious. Facing a capable adversary alone and more used to bullying his way through to favours he panicked, looking about for help from his unconscious or disabled comrades for a moment before drawing a dagger from his belt.
In a heartbeat the fight had gone from a brawl to one of deadly seriousness. No longer content on delivering a simple beating even if he had the capability to do so, he was now concerning with inflicting as much pain on me as possible before fleeing from the scene. Lunging out with the gleaming blade he cut the air with short, economical strokes, forcing me to step backwards again and again to put distance between me and the angry elf. The blade cracked through the air with the sound of tearing silk, narrowly missing me each time as I refused to draw my own blade.
The fight and the sounds of commotion was drawing every guard within several blocks to race through the crowds. Surrounding us were dozens of onlookers watching with a mixture of astonishment and pleasure at the sight of Viconia and I laying the Blackwood company members out cold in the cobblestones. Judging by the heavy handed nature of the fighters and the way that the Altmer especially had simply bashed his way through a family they were not the most popular group in the city. The odd one or two cheers or exclamations of pleasure were obvious where we inflicted some form of physical punishment onto the fighters even as the guard pushed their way through the press and started shouting at us all to desist.
Waiting until the guard had arrived to lay witness to what was occurring I suddenly changed tactics. Now that the authorities had arrived to bear witness to the group of Blackwood Company members laying on the ground from their failed attempt at assaulting us I knew it was time to finish the fight. Especially with the sight of the fully armoured Altmer swinging a knife at me, I knew that it would be hard to prove anything other than the fact that Viconia and I had been fighting in self-defence. Exceptionally effective self-defence by the sorry states that the seven members had been left in.
"It's not as fun fighting someone who can fight back... Is it?" I snarled at the Altmer, goading him on and ignoring the way the nearby guardsmen shouted at us to stop.
Ducking under a sweeping slash of the blade I laughed at him. "Maybe you should go back to beating up kids. That seems to be the only fair fight you'll ever have."
Roaring, he kicked and slashed his blade at my face, now yearning for nothing more than the sink the edge into my flesh and draw my blood. I felt my face tighten, arms bunching with barely contained strength as I snapped my arm out and caught him by the wrist.
In his full suit of blackened armour and a full head taller in height the Altmer appeared to be the stronger of the two of us. Even as the guard moved across the opened space surround the brawl there were few who would have believed that I had the advantage. Bunching and rolling under my skin, the enlarged muscles of my right arm became visible to all as my archer's strength was infused with the power of a vampire. Screaming the elf was forced to his knees as I twisted and clenched my fist until the bones of his wrist were ground together.
"Drop the blade." I hissed at him, staring as he whimpered and tried desperately to break the grip that my fingers had on his wrist with his free hand.
I punched him in the mouth, looking down on him as he knelt before me with his knife hand held out and above his head in my iron grip. There was second of terror in his eyes before it was swallowed up by pain from his busted mouth and crushed hand, but I didn't see anything else except the sight of the young Nibenese woman comforting her crying daughter in a hug.
He looked into my eyes as they hardened with anger, not understanding the darkness of the emotion that swirled behind them. Snarling and feeling the tingling of my jaw I crushed his wrist with my growing strength, forcing the hand to pop open and drop the dagger from nerveless fingers.
To the horror of the kneeling elf and those watching, I snatched the falling dagger out of the air with my free hand, twirling it in my fingers before punching it into the meat of his forearm. His eyes went wide with the dual pain of shattered wrist and the knife buried in his bicep, before screaming and dropping away from me.
Spitting on my downed adversary I felt the tingling of my jaw and teeth fade away, looking over the sight of the handful of armoured guards edging their way cautiously towards Viconia and I. Eight Blackwood Company fighters were on the ground, either unconscious or suffering debilitating injuries that they would not be walking away from. Viconia and myself were surprisingly unwounded with little more than a collection of bruises and scratches to show for the fight. Maglir had vanished in the confusion, leaving behind a small pile of torso armour where he had shed it to allow himself to disappear into the growing crowd before either the us or the guard got to him.
A trio of guardsmen moved closer to me, discipline canes and batons held in gloved hands and looking somewhat nervous.
"Don't move." One of them said in his best commanding tone. "You are all under arrest and will have to come with us."
He looked about at the carnage strewn about and the moaning fighters arrayed on the ground despite the fact that my sword was still clasped at my hip. It was obvious that he was imagining the massacre that could have occurred if I had used Sunchild rather than my fists and his expression filled with apprehension.
"Please?" he said quietly enough that only I could hear, and I smiled slightly while raising my hands.
