Lowtown was anything but a safe place when the sun fell and darkness set over the city, but Sophia Dumar did not feel threatened. Muggers and thieves usually passed over armored individuals with two-handed swords sheathed across their backs. Her chainmail and light plate were becoming something of a second skin for her, each outing increasingly her comfortability wearing them. Now it was the dresses that were starting to feel unnatural. She felt awkwardly light without the weight of Vesenia behind her. Like she'd float up into the clouds or something. She actually had considered wearing the sword more often, but a quick glance in the mirror had confirmed that large swords looked rather silly when not accompanied by armor.
Her foray into Lowtown tonight was more serious than usual, however. At least, she suspected it would be. Time spent in the Chantry had alerted her to something suspicious. Despite her refusal to acknowledge the sisters as a human rumor mill, they often functioned as such, and it was through them that she overheard that one Sister Petrice would be visiting Lowtown again tonight, the Foundry district specifically, where she was supposedly to meet with a group of thugs whom she'd hired for a job. As unlikely as Sophia thought that, she decided it couldn't hurt to investigate, for Petrice's sake if no one else. She was not familiar with her personally, but many sisters were not exactly aware of the dangers that much of the city could present. It was entirely possible that she had no idea what she was getting herself into, and would possibly need protection.
Of secondary concern was the matter of what exactly Petrice would need a group of thugs for, but for the moment Sophia was intent on not doubting the integrity of the Chantry.
And so here she was, making herself somewhat scarce, overlooking the supposed meeting place from nearby, and growing slightly impatient. It wasn't as though she'd had some other pressing matter she'd put off in order to come here, but she also wasn't fond of wasted time. She'd have to have an honest word with some of the sisters if this was indeed nothing but a rumor.
Lucien, who'd been on his way home from a series of minor jobs for the Red Iron, had run into the Chantry sister in the middle of Lowtown, apparently looking around as though somewhat lost. Which he found this to be curious, verging on suspicious, he'd felt obligated to follow when she was approached from the south by a group of what appeared to be the kind of men who barely earned 'mercenary' status. Thug was probably more like it, if the body language they were exhibiting was anything to go by. He wasn't going to set that judgement in stone without more justification, but all the same, he was not- as he'd tried unsuccessfully to convince several people- a complete fool. Which brought him to where he was presently: following a priest and a bunch of rough-looking men into an alley in the foundry district.
This probably deserved a mention in a letter home, just for the sheer oddity.
He did have to resist the urge to sigh, though; if the sister wasn't up to something she shouldn't be (and he'd like to think she wasn't, really he would), she was... less-than-intelligent might be the mild way to formulate the trait. Anyone who had spent any time whatsoever out in the world knew that one did not conduct business with heavily-armed people in dark recesses without witnesses, at night. It was so obviously foolish that his wariness to deception was crawling out of his background psychology and to the forefront of his mind. Something was very wrong here, but he wouldn't be able to figure out what unless he followed for a while. Odder still was that none had yet acknowledged him- he was making no effort to conceal his presence.
Taking up a position at the choke-point of the alley, the former Chevalier crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the wall, waiting for something to happen.
Petrice was led into the alley by the leader of the thugs, a man adorned with strikingly orange, braided back hair. A half dozen of his fellows made their presences known, all armed with a variety of cheap weapons and armor. It was a choice location for an ambush. Not even the moon was hitting the area, blocked as it was behind the nearby structure of a tall foundry.
It also helped to conceal Sophia somewhat, hidden in a nearby doorway as she was. She'd become considerably more awake since the sounds of footsteps and voices reached her ears. It seemed there was something to the rumors after all. "Right this way, ma'am," one said, holding an arm out in front of the sister, who was quickly becoming surrounded by the thugs. Sophia was able to see by peeking one eye around the corner. It was enough to see the glint of a knife, coming up behind Petrice.
Sophia sprang into action, darting out into the open, Vesenia coming free with a telltale ring that announced her presence to all, as if the thuds of her boots hadn't already done that. It was enough to make the thug about to stab Petrice hesitate, and give Sophia the window she needed to interrupt it all. With a deft flick of both hands she smacked the blade away from the sister, following up with a pommel strike to the nose, bloodying the man and pushing him back. Petrice was startled, but responded well when Sophia gently moved her with a gloved hand.
"Stay behind me," Sophia suggested, reforming her grip on the pommel. The seven thugs appeared unintimidated by the threat of a single woman, and moved to surround her. She responded by pushing backwards towards the wall, hoping to at least reduce the angle she could be attacked from three-sixty to one-eighty. The leader among them paused the group for a moment when he spoke. "Easy there, lass. You don't need to be throwing your life away tonight. Walk away now, and we'll pretend this never happened."
"I extend you the same offer," she responded. Truth be told, she wasn't sure if she was capable of seven-on-one. While they chuckled at her boldness, she considered explaining who she was, but decided that would be just as likely to make them want to kill her as it was to make them want to back down. There was no more time for thought, however, as the first pair of them moved forward to attack.
The first swing was intercepted by a curved blade, which jerked abruptly to the side, disarming the right-hand thug, who collpased in a heap to the ground when the maneuver was followed up with a pommel strike to the side of his head. Unconscious, certainly, but not dead, by any means. The blow from his partner reverberated off Lucien's dark grey plate, apparently not at all fazing the knight, who merely blinked his exposed eye at the fellow, who took a few steps backwards in surprise. With a sigh, the young man ran a hand through his shaggy hair and shook his head. Amateurs.
"Allow me to reiterate the lady's generous offer," he said calmly, offering a nod in Sophia's direction. He hadn't expected to run into her here, but he was not at all displeased at her presence. An ally would be most welcome if this remained hostile as it was now. "I think your immediate tactical retreat would be best for everyone involved, don't you?"
Sophia had been left in the awkward position of being prepared to receive a blow that never came. The thugs jumped back momentarily to rethink the situation, now that a second, and much larger, foe had taken up arms against them. Sophia had let a small smile creep onto her face. The mercenary's rather dashing entrance had been most welcome. She moved up beside him, keeping her sword at the ready. With Lucien here, she was quite certain they were capable of defeating them. It didn't make the act any more pleasant, however.
"Good timing," she said, settling into her stance. As much as she hoped the thugs would turn around and leave now, the leader didn't seem to be going for it. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted to his men. "There's only two of them! Surround them, kill them!" It provided the necessary encouragement for the thugs to begin the attack in earnest, three going for Lucien, three for Sophia. The leader notably remained back, allowing the pawns to go first. "Maker," Sophia grumbled, "Why must they insist?"
"I've been asking myself the same thing for years," Lucien replied mildly, but the street fighters had apparently decided that the time for words was past them.
The first swung downward with a flanged mace, a heavy weapon to wield, one that Sophia was able to sidestep easily enough before throwing her pommel into his face. She knew she wouldn't have time for anything else, as she preemptively threw a sword strike to counter the second thug's horizontal blade slash. The third took a more brute force approach, trying to beat her with pure strength rather than skill at arms, which was a sound plan. Rather than strike at her with any weapons, he lowered his shoulder and charged, catching her in the stomach and driving her backwards. Petrice had to jump out of the way just before the wall stopped Sophia. Her breath left her in a rush, and her sword was useless at this range. She responded by pushing the thug away as he was drawing his knife back, and throwing her right knee into his nose. A sharp crack told her that she'd shattered it, and the thug yelped in agreement, staggering back and clutching his face.
That left the other two, and again Sophia rushed to parry the sword-armed thug. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a mace coming for her, and had the good sense to move her head before it took a chunk out of the wall. She kicked him in the gut to force him away, before forcing the other thug's sword aside, laying a fist into his jaw. Surely these thugs would only take so much beating before they made the wise choice. Any longer, though, and it would have to come to deaths. Sophia wasn't fond of fist fights.
The first two of Lucien's opponents came at him as a team. Both were warriors, but also considerably smaller than the towering Orlesian fellow, and they correctly judged that getting close would be the best way to prevent him from swinging around his scythe with unfortunate accuracy. Unlike Sophia, however, his back was to the open alley behind him, and so when the first man charged, bashing the Chevalier's chest with his banded wooden shield, Lucien endured the discomfort and backtracked several steps, intending to use the extra space to get a hit in.
The second man wasn't going to allow that, however, and his attempt to heft his scythe was met with a downward stroke from a one-handed axe, followed by another attempted shield-bash. At that, he frowned. It would appear that their strategy was to drive a wedge in the two-person line by backing him out into the street, and he was not having that. This time, he braced himself, using his superior strength and sense of balance to simply absorb the second hit, unmoving and refusing to stagger. It pushed a considerable amount of breath from his lungs, and if he kept it up, he'd be bruising quite badly tomorrow, but that was the least of the concerns on his mind. Using his free hand, he grabbed the rim of the shield in a firm grip, effectively holding the man in place. With a wrench, he maneuvered the fellow so that he was blocking his friend from getting a good shot in.
Forced with the choice of being entirely at Lucien's mercy or abandoning his shield, the bereaved thug wisely chose the latter, leaving the knight with a shield in one hand and his scythe still in the other. Shrugging, Lucien tossed the metal disk in the air and caught it again, sliding his arm into the straps without difficulty. It wasn't a properly-adjusted fit, and somewhere in the back of his head, his old armsmaster shook his head and muttered something suitably obscene. The thought, however, simply caused him to smile, which apparently was as good a signal as any for his foes to renew their assault. The third one had disappeared entirely, and Lucien had a bad feeling about that, but there was nothing he could do save pay attention to his surroundings.
The man still fully equipped charged first, swinging in a broad horizontal arc with his longsword, which Lucien deflected deftly with the shield. It had never been his preferred weapon arrangement, but he'd learned it as surely as the rest, and it was clear that these men had not. When the thug staggered backwards, the clang of the contact ringing in both their ears, Lucien advanced forward, adjusting his grip on his scythe and placing the top against the ground to block the axe-man's attempt at a simultaneous hit which would have gone much better if the prior one had worked. With his other arm, he gagued his strength as best he could and swung at the second man's head with the shield, successfully rendering him, too, unconscious.
It was considerable effort to swing the scythe with one hand, and he'd rather not do so if he could avoid it, but it appeared that the axe-holding brigand was not going to be so kind as to either allow him the opportunity to shift his grip or attack his shield-side, so it was with a sigh followed by a grunt of effort that he hefted the unweildy thing and swung. His weakened momentum allowed the other fellow to block fairly well, and Lucien shifted his hold on the shield so that he was simply holding the leather fastening straps in one hand. He attempted the same maneuver a second time, expecting the same result, and he was not disappointed. This time, though, he took a lesson from certain competitive tourney events in which he'd once participated and threw the shield like a discus, succssfully catching the man in the stomach. Given their proximity, it was hardly a fatal hit, but it did cause him to double over and freed the Chevalier's off-hand, which was enough. A solid hit to the temple with the flat of the scythe-blade opened up a vertical cut in the thug's cheek, but also dropped him like a stone.
Now... where was that damned rogue?
The clang and ring of battle was clear and crisp in the night air. The sounds even managed to make it to a certain redheaded maglet on her way home. Aurora was just returning from an extended lession with Amalia and some of her... Viddathari she believed the word was. Converts of the Qun. The walk home was dangerous during the night, yes, but recently Aurora felt brave. Perhaps even foolhardy. Maybe it was Amalia's lessons. Maybe it was her gift. Either way, she would make an effort not to allow these nightly strolls through Lowtown to become a common thing. She didn't want to invite trouble after all. Though being a mage, she couldn't help but feel that trouble tried it's hardest to find her.
The trouble for that night were, indeed, the sounds of the battle that drew her attention. She made her way towards the racket, which led her to an alleyway, and as she expected there was a tussle that was on going. He hid behind the corner of the building as she watched. The numbers were unfair. Somewhere around a dozen to three-- two, considering one of the women was merely being protected. She felt as if dozen were the antogonists of this, as the two warriors fought to disarm or to incapacitate while the doze looked to kill. Despite the odds thiyfg, the large, eyepatched man and his lady companions seemed to have things under hand. The large man had an unsurprising stength about him, easily waylaying two of the thugs, while the woman fended off and disarmed three of the thugs.
It was an impressive showing and she expected the thugs to give in at any time. Lowtown thugs weren't known for their bravery, and she personally managed to frighten a few off with a mere cantrip. Who wanted to actively fight a mage anyway? And who were they going to tell? The Templars? They'd have to get to them first, and these highwaymen weren't on good terms with authority figures. Back to the fight, she watched as a rogue began to slink up behind the knight. The knight seemed to be unaware as to his plight, with his back turned both on the rogue and herself. That was when the bold streak inside Aurora acted up. She slipped from the corner of the building and began to sneak up behind the rogue. Amalia hadn't only taught her about the mind, but the body as well. She had watched the Qunari woman, how she walked with grace and aclarity. When she walked, it was like she floated, not even disturbing the dirt and dust at her feet.
Aurora however, was not so graceful. Though it was good enough. The rogue had his eye on the target and was unaware as to everything else. He didn't even hear the blade extend from Aurora's bracer. It was a shocking surprise when the blade bit deep into the joint behind his knee. The knee collapsed on him immediately, yelping in pain as he knelt. He attempted to turn around to see the perpertrator, but was stopped by a bloody blade resting on his neck. "I suggest you be still if you want to limp away from this," Aurora warned. "I'm still learning how to use this. It would be a shame if it were to... slip," she added, winking to the knight.
While Lucien had been busy with the three that had attacked him, the leader of these thugs had chosen to join the battered trio going after Sophia. Or rather, she was left to assume that as she saw him disappear out of the corner of her eye, just as she smacked the flat side of her sword into the knee of the mace-armed thug, removing him from the fight when he fell. The knife armed thug, whose face was now a sheet of blood since she'd shattered his nose, came at her angry, but the Viscount's daughter was prepared this time, effectively sidestepping his hurtling punch and slicing her blade across his hamstring, taking him to the ground as well. That left the one with the sword, and the leader, dual knives hidden somewhere nearby.
She needed to make short work of the one in order to be prepared for the other, and thus she went on the offensive, quick and powerful strikes testing the thug's skill at swordplay, which was surprisingly good, but not good enough. She got him off balance with a strong horizontal slash when he'd expected vertical, battering his guard to the side. Sophia followed up with an elbow blow to the side of the head, and then a sweep of a boot, taking his legs out from under him. The finisher was a kick to the head, knocking him out cold.
The crunch of a boot on dirt behind her alerted her to the leader's attempted backstab just in time, and Sophia whirled around, throwing her guard up high. The attack, however, came much lower than expected, slipping under her plate, just above the belt, cutting across her lower abdomen. Sophia was slowed down much less than expected, however, when she immediately brought her sword down into the thug's arm, cutting until it hit bone, and garnering a loud yelp from the leader. Taking the advantage, Sophia wrenched her sword free, then stomped downwards into his knee, breaking it and causing the leader to spin into a fall, going to a knee on his remaining good leg. Before he could move further, Sophia came up behind him, lowering and leveling her sword to let an edge nearly touch the stubbled skin of his throat. He froze, grimacing at the pain, and at last acknowledging their defeat by dropping his weapons.
Sophia glanced up to see that Lucien was fine. As expected, he was, though it seemed the ruckus had drawn a third participant on their side, a smaller woman who held a thug at the point of her blade. Sophia spared her a brief nod of thanks before returning her eyes to the thug leader, not willing to give him the chance to catch her by surprise. "You're very lucky to have fought against us tonight, I hope you realize," she said, no small amount of frustration in her voice, "Few would be willing to let you live at this point. Perhaps you should take this as a sign from the Maker that continuing on like this is only going to get you killed. Do you understand my meaning?"
The thug nodded as much as he could without letting any part of him touch her sword. "Yes, milady. Quite clearly. We'll trouble you no further, we promise." Sophia loosened her grip slightly. "So long as you realize that preying on the weak in this city is what troubles me, then you may go." She removed her sword from his throat, and he immediately got to his feet as best he could. Sophia pointed to the one the other girl had captured with the tip of her blade. "Let him go, please. The threat has passed."
Sophia wiped her blade on a cloth tucked under her belt, before sheathing the sword across her back, breathing something of a sigh. That had been more eventful than she had anticipated. When her leg began to feel warm and wet, however, she remembered the wound she'd taken. A touch of her hand to her stomach brought it back red and wet. He'd managed to cut through even her light chainmail, but thankfully the wound was relatively shallow. It would need to be seen to at some point, but for now, they needed to move.
The thugs that had been capable of standing had cleared out, leaving the others unconscious in the dirt. Sophia gestured for Petrice to follow her. "Thanks for the help," she said, looking to Lucien, "that could have been bad. And thank you as well," she said, to the woman who had arrived to assist them. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Sophia Dumar."
Her foray into Lowtown tonight was more serious than usual, however. At least, she suspected it would be. Time spent in the Chantry had alerted her to something suspicious. Despite her refusal to acknowledge the sisters as a human rumor mill, they often functioned as such, and it was through them that she overheard that one Sister Petrice would be visiting Lowtown again tonight, the Foundry district specifically, where she was supposedly to meet with a group of thugs whom she'd hired for a job. As unlikely as Sophia thought that, she decided it couldn't hurt to investigate, for Petrice's sake if no one else. She was not familiar with her personally, but many sisters were not exactly aware of the dangers that much of the city could present. It was entirely possible that she had no idea what she was getting herself into, and would possibly need protection.
Of secondary concern was the matter of what exactly Petrice would need a group of thugs for, but for the moment Sophia was intent on not doubting the integrity of the Chantry.
And so here she was, making herself somewhat scarce, overlooking the supposed meeting place from nearby, and growing slightly impatient. It wasn't as though she'd had some other pressing matter she'd put off in order to come here, but she also wasn't fond of wasted time. She'd have to have an honest word with some of the sisters if this was indeed nothing but a rumor.
Lucien, who'd been on his way home from a series of minor jobs for the Red Iron, had run into the Chantry sister in the middle of Lowtown, apparently looking around as though somewhat lost. Which he found this to be curious, verging on suspicious, he'd felt obligated to follow when she was approached from the south by a group of what appeared to be the kind of men who barely earned 'mercenary' status. Thug was probably more like it, if the body language they were exhibiting was anything to go by. He wasn't going to set that judgement in stone without more justification, but all the same, he was not- as he'd tried unsuccessfully to convince several people- a complete fool. Which brought him to where he was presently: following a priest and a bunch of rough-looking men into an alley in the foundry district.
This probably deserved a mention in a letter home, just for the sheer oddity.
He did have to resist the urge to sigh, though; if the sister wasn't up to something she shouldn't be (and he'd like to think she wasn't, really he would), she was... less-than-intelligent might be the mild way to formulate the trait. Anyone who had spent any time whatsoever out in the world knew that one did not conduct business with heavily-armed people in dark recesses without witnesses, at night. It was so obviously foolish that his wariness to deception was crawling out of his background psychology and to the forefront of his mind. Something was very wrong here, but he wouldn't be able to figure out what unless he followed for a while. Odder still was that none had yet acknowledged him- he was making no effort to conceal his presence.
Taking up a position at the choke-point of the alley, the former Chevalier crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the wall, waiting for something to happen.
Petrice was led into the alley by the leader of the thugs, a man adorned with strikingly orange, braided back hair. A half dozen of his fellows made their presences known, all armed with a variety of cheap weapons and armor. It was a choice location for an ambush. Not even the moon was hitting the area, blocked as it was behind the nearby structure of a tall foundry.
It also helped to conceal Sophia somewhat, hidden in a nearby doorway as she was. She'd become considerably more awake since the sounds of footsteps and voices reached her ears. It seemed there was something to the rumors after all. "Right this way, ma'am," one said, holding an arm out in front of the sister, who was quickly becoming surrounded by the thugs. Sophia was able to see by peeking one eye around the corner. It was enough to see the glint of a knife, coming up behind Petrice.
Sophia sprang into action, darting out into the open, Vesenia coming free with a telltale ring that announced her presence to all, as if the thuds of her boots hadn't already done that. It was enough to make the thug about to stab Petrice hesitate, and give Sophia the window she needed to interrupt it all. With a deft flick of both hands she smacked the blade away from the sister, following up with a pommel strike to the nose, bloodying the man and pushing him back. Petrice was startled, but responded well when Sophia gently moved her with a gloved hand.
"Stay behind me," Sophia suggested, reforming her grip on the pommel. The seven thugs appeared unintimidated by the threat of a single woman, and moved to surround her. She responded by pushing backwards towards the wall, hoping to at least reduce the angle she could be attacked from three-sixty to one-eighty. The leader among them paused the group for a moment when he spoke. "Easy there, lass. You don't need to be throwing your life away tonight. Walk away now, and we'll pretend this never happened."
"I extend you the same offer," she responded. Truth be told, she wasn't sure if she was capable of seven-on-one. While they chuckled at her boldness, she considered explaining who she was, but decided that would be just as likely to make them want to kill her as it was to make them want to back down. There was no more time for thought, however, as the first pair of them moved forward to attack.
The first swing was intercepted by a curved blade, which jerked abruptly to the side, disarming the right-hand thug, who collpased in a heap to the ground when the maneuver was followed up with a pommel strike to the side of his head. Unconscious, certainly, but not dead, by any means. The blow from his partner reverberated off Lucien's dark grey plate, apparently not at all fazing the knight, who merely blinked his exposed eye at the fellow, who took a few steps backwards in surprise. With a sigh, the young man ran a hand through his shaggy hair and shook his head. Amateurs.
"Allow me to reiterate the lady's generous offer," he said calmly, offering a nod in Sophia's direction. He hadn't expected to run into her here, but he was not at all displeased at her presence. An ally would be most welcome if this remained hostile as it was now. "I think your immediate tactical retreat would be best for everyone involved, don't you?"
Sophia had been left in the awkward position of being prepared to receive a blow that never came. The thugs jumped back momentarily to rethink the situation, now that a second, and much larger, foe had taken up arms against them. Sophia had let a small smile creep onto her face. The mercenary's rather dashing entrance had been most welcome. She moved up beside him, keeping her sword at the ready. With Lucien here, she was quite certain they were capable of defeating them. It didn't make the act any more pleasant, however.
"Good timing," she said, settling into her stance. As much as she hoped the thugs would turn around and leave now, the leader didn't seem to be going for it. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted to his men. "There's only two of them! Surround them, kill them!" It provided the necessary encouragement for the thugs to begin the attack in earnest, three going for Lucien, three for Sophia. The leader notably remained back, allowing the pawns to go first. "Maker," Sophia grumbled, "Why must they insist?"
"I've been asking myself the same thing for years," Lucien replied mildly, but the street fighters had apparently decided that the time for words was past them.
The first swung downward with a flanged mace, a heavy weapon to wield, one that Sophia was able to sidestep easily enough before throwing her pommel into his face. She knew she wouldn't have time for anything else, as she preemptively threw a sword strike to counter the second thug's horizontal blade slash. The third took a more brute force approach, trying to beat her with pure strength rather than skill at arms, which was a sound plan. Rather than strike at her with any weapons, he lowered his shoulder and charged, catching her in the stomach and driving her backwards. Petrice had to jump out of the way just before the wall stopped Sophia. Her breath left her in a rush, and her sword was useless at this range. She responded by pushing the thug away as he was drawing his knife back, and throwing her right knee into his nose. A sharp crack told her that she'd shattered it, and the thug yelped in agreement, staggering back and clutching his face.
That left the other two, and again Sophia rushed to parry the sword-armed thug. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a mace coming for her, and had the good sense to move her head before it took a chunk out of the wall. She kicked him in the gut to force him away, before forcing the other thug's sword aside, laying a fist into his jaw. Surely these thugs would only take so much beating before they made the wise choice. Any longer, though, and it would have to come to deaths. Sophia wasn't fond of fist fights.
The first two of Lucien's opponents came at him as a team. Both were warriors, but also considerably smaller than the towering Orlesian fellow, and they correctly judged that getting close would be the best way to prevent him from swinging around his scythe with unfortunate accuracy. Unlike Sophia, however, his back was to the open alley behind him, and so when the first man charged, bashing the Chevalier's chest with his banded wooden shield, Lucien endured the discomfort and backtracked several steps, intending to use the extra space to get a hit in.
The second man wasn't going to allow that, however, and his attempt to heft his scythe was met with a downward stroke from a one-handed axe, followed by another attempted shield-bash. At that, he frowned. It would appear that their strategy was to drive a wedge in the two-person line by backing him out into the street, and he was not having that. This time, he braced himself, using his superior strength and sense of balance to simply absorb the second hit, unmoving and refusing to stagger. It pushed a considerable amount of breath from his lungs, and if he kept it up, he'd be bruising quite badly tomorrow, but that was the least of the concerns on his mind. Using his free hand, he grabbed the rim of the shield in a firm grip, effectively holding the man in place. With a wrench, he maneuvered the fellow so that he was blocking his friend from getting a good shot in.
Forced with the choice of being entirely at Lucien's mercy or abandoning his shield, the bereaved thug wisely chose the latter, leaving the knight with a shield in one hand and his scythe still in the other. Shrugging, Lucien tossed the metal disk in the air and caught it again, sliding his arm into the straps without difficulty. It wasn't a properly-adjusted fit, and somewhere in the back of his head, his old armsmaster shook his head and muttered something suitably obscene. The thought, however, simply caused him to smile, which apparently was as good a signal as any for his foes to renew their assault. The third one had disappeared entirely, and Lucien had a bad feeling about that, but there was nothing he could do save pay attention to his surroundings.
The man still fully equipped charged first, swinging in a broad horizontal arc with his longsword, which Lucien deflected deftly with the shield. It had never been his preferred weapon arrangement, but he'd learned it as surely as the rest, and it was clear that these men had not. When the thug staggered backwards, the clang of the contact ringing in both their ears, Lucien advanced forward, adjusting his grip on his scythe and placing the top against the ground to block the axe-man's attempt at a simultaneous hit which would have gone much better if the prior one had worked. With his other arm, he gagued his strength as best he could and swung at the second man's head with the shield, successfully rendering him, too, unconscious.
It was considerable effort to swing the scythe with one hand, and he'd rather not do so if he could avoid it, but it appeared that the axe-holding brigand was not going to be so kind as to either allow him the opportunity to shift his grip or attack his shield-side, so it was with a sigh followed by a grunt of effort that he hefted the unweildy thing and swung. His weakened momentum allowed the other fellow to block fairly well, and Lucien shifted his hold on the shield so that he was simply holding the leather fastening straps in one hand. He attempted the same maneuver a second time, expecting the same result, and he was not disappointed. This time, though, he took a lesson from certain competitive tourney events in which he'd once participated and threw the shield like a discus, succssfully catching the man in the stomach. Given their proximity, it was hardly a fatal hit, but it did cause him to double over and freed the Chevalier's off-hand, which was enough. A solid hit to the temple with the flat of the scythe-blade opened up a vertical cut in the thug's cheek, but also dropped him like a stone.
Now... where was that damned rogue?
The clang and ring of battle was clear and crisp in the night air. The sounds even managed to make it to a certain redheaded maglet on her way home. Aurora was just returning from an extended lession with Amalia and some of her... Viddathari she believed the word was. Converts of the Qun. The walk home was dangerous during the night, yes, but recently Aurora felt brave. Perhaps even foolhardy. Maybe it was Amalia's lessons. Maybe it was her gift. Either way, she would make an effort not to allow these nightly strolls through Lowtown to become a common thing. She didn't want to invite trouble after all. Though being a mage, she couldn't help but feel that trouble tried it's hardest to find her.
The trouble for that night were, indeed, the sounds of the battle that drew her attention. She made her way towards the racket, which led her to an alleyway, and as she expected there was a tussle that was on going. He hid behind the corner of the building as she watched. The numbers were unfair. Somewhere around a dozen to three-- two, considering one of the women was merely being protected. She felt as if dozen were the antogonists of this, as the two warriors fought to disarm or to incapacitate while the doze looked to kill. Despite the odds thiyfg, the large, eyepatched man and his lady companions seemed to have things under hand. The large man had an unsurprising stength about him, easily waylaying two of the thugs, while the woman fended off and disarmed three of the thugs.
It was an impressive showing and she expected the thugs to give in at any time. Lowtown thugs weren't known for their bravery, and she personally managed to frighten a few off with a mere cantrip. Who wanted to actively fight a mage anyway? And who were they going to tell? The Templars? They'd have to get to them first, and these highwaymen weren't on good terms with authority figures. Back to the fight, she watched as a rogue began to slink up behind the knight. The knight seemed to be unaware as to his plight, with his back turned both on the rogue and herself. That was when the bold streak inside Aurora acted up. She slipped from the corner of the building and began to sneak up behind the rogue. Amalia hadn't only taught her about the mind, but the body as well. She had watched the Qunari woman, how she walked with grace and aclarity. When she walked, it was like she floated, not even disturbing the dirt and dust at her feet.
Aurora however, was not so graceful. Though it was good enough. The rogue had his eye on the target and was unaware as to everything else. He didn't even hear the blade extend from Aurora's bracer. It was a shocking surprise when the blade bit deep into the joint behind his knee. The knee collapsed on him immediately, yelping in pain as he knelt. He attempted to turn around to see the perpertrator, but was stopped by a bloody blade resting on his neck. "I suggest you be still if you want to limp away from this," Aurora warned. "I'm still learning how to use this. It would be a shame if it were to... slip," she added, winking to the knight.
While Lucien had been busy with the three that had attacked him, the leader of these thugs had chosen to join the battered trio going after Sophia. Or rather, she was left to assume that as she saw him disappear out of the corner of her eye, just as she smacked the flat side of her sword into the knee of the mace-armed thug, removing him from the fight when he fell. The knife armed thug, whose face was now a sheet of blood since she'd shattered his nose, came at her angry, but the Viscount's daughter was prepared this time, effectively sidestepping his hurtling punch and slicing her blade across his hamstring, taking him to the ground as well. That left the one with the sword, and the leader, dual knives hidden somewhere nearby.
She needed to make short work of the one in order to be prepared for the other, and thus she went on the offensive, quick and powerful strikes testing the thug's skill at swordplay, which was surprisingly good, but not good enough. She got him off balance with a strong horizontal slash when he'd expected vertical, battering his guard to the side. Sophia followed up with an elbow blow to the side of the head, and then a sweep of a boot, taking his legs out from under him. The finisher was a kick to the head, knocking him out cold.
The crunch of a boot on dirt behind her alerted her to the leader's attempted backstab just in time, and Sophia whirled around, throwing her guard up high. The attack, however, came much lower than expected, slipping under her plate, just above the belt, cutting across her lower abdomen. Sophia was slowed down much less than expected, however, when she immediately brought her sword down into the thug's arm, cutting until it hit bone, and garnering a loud yelp from the leader. Taking the advantage, Sophia wrenched her sword free, then stomped downwards into his knee, breaking it and causing the leader to spin into a fall, going to a knee on his remaining good leg. Before he could move further, Sophia came up behind him, lowering and leveling her sword to let an edge nearly touch the stubbled skin of his throat. He froze, grimacing at the pain, and at last acknowledging their defeat by dropping his weapons.
Sophia glanced up to see that Lucien was fine. As expected, he was, though it seemed the ruckus had drawn a third participant on their side, a smaller woman who held a thug at the point of her blade. Sophia spared her a brief nod of thanks before returning her eyes to the thug leader, not willing to give him the chance to catch her by surprise. "You're very lucky to have fought against us tonight, I hope you realize," she said, no small amount of frustration in her voice, "Few would be willing to let you live at this point. Perhaps you should take this as a sign from the Maker that continuing on like this is only going to get you killed. Do you understand my meaning?"
The thug nodded as much as he could without letting any part of him touch her sword. "Yes, milady. Quite clearly. We'll trouble you no further, we promise." Sophia loosened her grip slightly. "So long as you realize that preying on the weak in this city is what troubles me, then you may go." She removed her sword from his throat, and he immediately got to his feet as best he could. Sophia pointed to the one the other girl had captured with the tip of her blade. "Let him go, please. The threat has passed."
Sophia wiped her blade on a cloth tucked under her belt, before sheathing the sword across her back, breathing something of a sigh. That had been more eventful than she had anticipated. When her leg began to feel warm and wet, however, she remembered the wound she'd taken. A touch of her hand to her stomach brought it back red and wet. He'd managed to cut through even her light chainmail, but thankfully the wound was relatively shallow. It would need to be seen to at some point, but for now, they needed to move.
The thugs that had been capable of standing had cleared out, leaving the others unconscious in the dirt. Sophia gestured for Petrice to follow her. "Thanks for the help," she said, looking to Lucien, "that could have been bad. And thank you as well," she said, to the woman who had arrived to assist them. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Sophia Dumar."
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