A third poem, and my favorite so far. Please tell me what you think!


The Swing Job


Nightblade's Note: The Swing Job is a piece describing one of my nightly operations in Skyrim.

The silhouette moving on rooftops in haste

In shadows it hid, cast by Masser's bright light

A short bow was resting on nightblade's waist

Before poisoned arrows were nocked on it tight

The nightblade inhaled, crouching by whipped urns

A shadowy veil cloaking his mantled arms

An arrow went past, a few moments, he turns

To see the approaching Redoran Guards

The nightblade rolled back before casting a spell

His ebony shortsword bloodthirsty, unsheathed

A thrust and a swing, and the lifeless guard fell

The others were blinded by his shadows' weave

The nightblade advanced, bloody blade steady held

A few mighty clashes and shadows attacked

Another guard died before magics dispelled

Alas, but too injured he was to fight back

A few drops of blood fell from nightblade's cloak

Assailant's outnumbered, fatigued, overwhelmed

A few wooden barrels to guards he did poke

To buy some more time for his trump, Shadow Step

A blink of an eye, and he ran the rooftops

From one to the other, to Bulwark's stone wall

He jumped on the edge and sheathed his shortsword

Then vanished, so guards couldn't see him at all

Away from the colony did he disperse

On bedroll he rested behind ashen stones

He held a worn out but quite fat coin purse

A fitting reward for the shadowy work

Next day he came up with a brand new contract

Knapsack full of scrolls, and a saddled guar

Across the empty ash wastes he rode fast

The silhouette, galloping, seen from afar