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
