Snippet #1368088

The lull in activity had given the mage encumbered warrior and his accursed bird time to flee the scene, which left the Altmer thief and Imperial swordsman to cover them. He was brutally efficient with occasionally graceless but precise style, once more leaving Por impressed. There was no love within her for those who choose to focus on theatrics over practicality; flashy entrances were acceptable but afterwards, all business. Azura, with all her damnable persistence, at least had the decency to choose helpful allies: a group of mages would have filled the thief with considerable dread. All they ever did was want to show off! Sensible as well she realised when sound advice came forth, audible due to the proximity over the chaos of the uncontrolled brawling.
Cut your losses and retreat were the tactics of a man who preferred survival over glory. Again Por was fleetingly approving, surveying what was to come. Everything could be gleaned from a careless person's body language and if there was one thing these guards were, it was painfully easy to read.

There was only time for an energetic nod before the front line was upon them. Grinning, she almost felt sorry for them as Marcelle moved to block the initial strike, shifting around the guard she had already felled to avoid a great-axe’s swing bearing down on her original position. The reverberating thunk made her wince despite her safety but that was hardly foremost, glancing upon the Hlaau guard with passing apprehension. Bonemould armour did not tend to have many openings for her slim daggers to take advantage of and thus Por improvised, crudely using the corpse as a stepping stone, tutting deprecatingly at the mindless swing towards her legs that followed the first. Her jump was timed so that she could use the shaft of the impressive weapon like a spring board, applying her own weight to throw him off-balance. It was just enough; her arm stretched upwards and slashed cruelly at the man's eyes, finding her mark with guiltless precision.

Predictably the axe fell from the man's grip as the shock mellowed out into agony and wet blindness but Por had been prepared for this, dropping backwards from the descent into a backwards roll that landed her on her feet once more. There would be scarcely seconds before the screaming began and she had absolutely no intention of being around when it started, breathing deeply as attention turned towards the alleyway where Marcelle had just disappeared.

The third front runner came in to her peripheral vision at just the wrong moment for him as a groan of frustration passed the thief's lips, hopping awkwardly away from his assault with a rather hefty round shield. Por's stare of bewilderment only lasted a moment before a dagger was flying towards the man's crotch, praying that the realisation that the man was in full metal armour would not come. It did not, the distraction coaxing him into lowering his shield to deflect the thrown weapon. By the time he looked up again Por was gone down the narrow passageway, summoning all her energy reserves to sprint towards the Odai, eyes reflecting fleeting concern as the Imperial rolled awkwardly into the river itself.

Her focus returned to the combat faded as the realisation that she was not quite out of harm's way came upon Por, hearing rather than seeing the arrows splinter and shatter against the pavement all around her. Launching a rescue attempt of a Telvanni wizard in Balmora screamed batshit insane, as did fleeing under a thick rain of arrows. Maybe that was the criteria that Azura had pinned to make up her chosen; willing to do anything for what they desired most. Wily minx.

Her thoughts were broken as searing pain erupted from her left shoulder blade, prompting a long string of colourful curses to escape her lips; most of them towards the Daedric Prince unsurprisingly. Her steps did not falter despite the agony that made Por grit her teeth, the arrows still falling and metallic footsteps catching up on her at an alarmingly rate. Her pace must had slowed. Curses! The river... the river. “Get to the river girl,” she hissed under her breath, half-leaping over the lipped edge of the embankment to land in the water feet first.

Crimson stained the waters but there was little time to dwell on that as the currents pulled her defiantly south and away from the pursing guards. It was all Por could do not to slip under the water, flinching every time a strong tug came at the embedded arrow. Safe though.

Some time later, Por washed up face down on the shore a little further down from Marcelle quite unconscious with a strange pallor to her skin that did not seem entirely healthy. The shaft had snapped en route, just leaving a few inches of it and the arrowhead in her back. It took scarcely a few moments for the spluttering that was her lungs attempt to expel the water, coughing and retching violently.

“Never... helping... anyone again!”

Not only was she separated from her associates, but the guard of Balmora wanted her head and Azura had done nothing to make their task easier. Some deity she was. Intertwined fates her arse; as soon as she was fit to travel Por was making her way back towards Cyrodiil's borders. She presumed she was alone, not having glanced up to notice Marcelle or indeed, even if her surroundings were unoccupied. The fluid in her lungs was first priority.