-ONYX-

Most orcs I have met are quick to their blade; not necessarily fast in skill but more or less think their best with a blade in hand. For Ghorlorz's sake it would be both hands on his blade, which makes him twice as smart. As the distance closes and another arrow shoots my way, I find my blade extracted from its sheathe. The red glow on Muramasa accentuates the idea that blood will be spilled soon enough; not my blood. The arrow from Odvan missed and it's pretty apparent his aim is influenced by his fear. The redguard follows Ghorlorz as they come close ready for their weapons to maul me. I take note of the dumner who seemed to have sheathed her blades; S'enji still favoring his arm from my previous attack; staying close to one of the captives. The two groaning through their gags as their bound forms remains ever so useless as the moment rolls by. As Ghorlorz's great sword is poised high to come down at me, the redguard prepares to take her opening if I evade; through the naked eye things happen too fast; to me, time slowed down, almost too slow and I can see things too clearly which allows me to properly plan my movement.

Muramasa is a sword that even the Blades would revere; it glows in crimson from the enchantment akin to Avarice and with a sharpness that could cut through dragon bone with ease, all it ever needs is the proper mediator of its strength. It has served me well for I serve it with the same respect; this battle would further show the honor of both blade and swordsman. Forward is the direction I take and with the way the orc had decided to take first strike the opening is far more apparent. The katana in my hands cuts in an upward angle, through this thigh and right through his steel greaves. By now the redguard is in range and she is already taking her first steps as if she was able to read my mind; while she may indeed be skilled in the means of sword play, so am I and the fact of the matter is that there are forces in Tamriel that pays homage to my skills. Boethia's gifts are one those. The black mist emerges again, and like some black locust, they start to poison her, making her vision blurred and actions delayed; the open wound of Ghorlorz also suffers from the magic being conjured up so the orc is out of the picture for a while, the redguard however…

"Why… why aren't you …. Fighting, Sherelle?!" I hear S'enji yell at the dunmer as I thrust my leg at the redguard's shield; the poison is indeed taking hold for she falters and drops her shield.

"Boethia is with him," Sherelle answers coldly. Her hands out of reach from her daggers. "And he is dragonborn. He was the one that deterred Alduin's wrath."

The redguard tries her best to overcome the factors against her as she strikes with her mace; sloppy and easy to evade. I step to the side and with a quick spin, Muramasa slashes in a circular arc; its sharp blade cutting through intended target. Her head flying off from her shoulders and her headless body falls limp to the ground. The sound of her mace hitting the ground echoes and the weight of her head follows after. One more kill …. Another soul. The muffled screams of both the imperial and the wood elf echoes; do they scream through their gag out of disgust or joy that they are one step closer to freedom? That I do not know; nor do I give it much care as the orc is now trying his hand despite his wound taking the best of him. I quickly turn to him and with a quick summon of my dragon voice, I shout at him; the force sending him to fly and hit some corner of the cave in a VERY painful and lethal manner. His armor might've been more detrimental than helpful with the impact he experienced; if he isn't dead then he has more than enough bones broken to keep him out of the fight. I hear his cry of pain in the distance as the unrelenting force did it's intended job.

"Uuuuhgunfhuuhn! HNNF! FNNUFN!"

The sound of one of the captives and somewhere in their muffled pleas is the voice of S'enji.

"Uh mmpfnuuhn ufh fu gmnn fhmf guuhmmmf!"

I turn around with blade still in tow and I catch the image of S'enji holding a dagger into the imperial girl's neck. The blade so close that it's almost piercing her skin; most likely if he pushes just a bit more it will break skin. The girl's eyes spells terror and she remains as stark still as she can not moving a muscle. With all of the duress on her body as it is… staying still would be prudent. The wood elf is the exact opposite however as she continues to find some sort of purchase within the bonds that holds her stature captive.

"Come a bit closer …. Than where you are…. Dragonborn," S'enji's injury is still taking a toll on him, but he keeps his knife firm on the bound girl's neck. "And you'll find… that being a hero …. Has ramifications…."

"Fnuufh... Fnuufh... Uun'f nnf... hmm..."

"That blade… in your … hand…. Drop it…"

I can see her fear as she whimpers pitifully against the cloth impeding her speech. S'enji's bravery falters or stands depending on my action. Depending on how much I care about these captives is where his fate stands. He's about to find out.

"Good…. Move… Dragonborn…"

"Uun'f... uun'f nnf hmm..." Tears pouring from the imperial's eyes from fear and minor relief.

"UUN'F! UUU FUUN! HN'NN GMNN UF UNN!" The wood elf however isn't showing any sort of elation through my actions. Rightfully so. I know what this khajiit is up to.

I can almost feel the jubilance emanating from S'enji's fur as he sees me lowering my blade hand as if to comply with his demands. The one thing that never ceases to appall me is that some of these bandits and low lives never got the to grasp the gamut of my capabilities. To deter Alduin is far more excruciating than slaying a normal frost dragon or even a revered dragon at that. And yet there they are tempting fate with mere threats and to use a helpless woman for their method…. My advantage lies in the notion that only the worthy adversaries have seen an inkling of my full capabilities. These low lives are just moment's entertainment that have long expired. I take a deep breath and with that…

"Now… Ta-ggghhhhkkk!"

A simple word gives me plenty of things to use on the whim. The perks of being a Dragonborn; the voice of the dragons, their power, and their valor are mine. Situation dictates which one I would tamper with and this situation calls for movement faster than the naked eye. Like the invisible wind sprinting through the open space, I move towards S'enji and I sever his arm off his body and almost in the same moment I cut off his head. As time moves slower for me ,I take a slight interest at his head floating in the air before it hits the table, bounced off the general area where the imperial's bound womanhood was and then it slides rolls off the table. His arm fell still grasping the dagger and his body followed not too long after. For a few moments all I hear is the hard and scared breathing of the imperial. Her naked chest heaving up and down but the moment the sound of the khajiit's head had hit the table close to her, she immediately jumped, almost falling in her tightly trussed up position, her gagged voice piercing through the cloth binding her lips.

"Your legends are far more alluring when witnessed one's naked eye."

Sherelle's voice carries over beyond the muffled pleas of the captives who are probably asking for their freedom; or giving praise. I sheathe Muramasa before looking over towards the dumner's direction.

"Cajoling me does not deter your fate, dunmer," I say harshly as I take a few steps towards her. "Your crimes are still weighing heavily over you."

Sherelle doesn't waver in her stoic expression. For a moment there was no reaction out of her, instead she stands there like a statue of some sort, staring coldly at me with those red eyes of hers. When she makes a movement, I myself don't pester with my own reactions. Her intent wasn't malice; quite the opposite actually. Despite her reaching for her weapons, I knew better. Of course the two who are still helpless to the situation vocally attempt their concerns. Obviously their words are only incoherent jabbers to me. My attention remains as stark as can be as the enchanted glass daggers are now in her grasps; but as I astutely have predicted, they are not for hostility. Instead she puts them on the ground and takes a few steps back away from it. A sign of surrender.

"I will have no quarrels with Boethia's sword. The one who trades words with the Gods and uses the words of the Dragons is an enemy best suited for the fools."

"And you are not, Sherelle?" I take a few steps towards her.

"My fate Onyx, is in your hands."

As she says those words her hands are raised towards me and placed together. With her wrists connected and her palms relaxed as they were, it's almost like she is offering herself to submission. Within my helmet, I make no change to my expression. Reverence is something of the norm to where I am and for that, I'll indulge whenever the situation seems adequate. I walk towards her grabbing a length of rope along the way. This is one of those times I'll indulge willingly.

"Indeed."

With that response I spin her around so that her back would be to me. My eyes scanning and making sure that this isn't a ruse of some sort to try and get the upper hand. She makes no movements against me so for now, things are look up. Taking the ropes, I start to bind her wrists together, palm to palm cinching ever so tightly and making sure that the knots stay out of reach from her fingers. With the final pull of her wrist binds, she lets out a slight gasp from the restricting sensation it had caused.

"You would take me as a slave, Dragonborn?"

"What insinuates that?"

"A mere thought. Just trying to fiddle with the options of what my fate might be."

"Fnhmhfuhmu?!"

I ignore the incoherent pleas of the captives and continue with my actions binding Sherelle. Reciprocating the 'treatment' that the imperial and the wood elf received, I enhance the wrist bind's restriction by adding more ropes above and below her breasts. The coarse material of the said rope is tight enough to cause wrinkles in her leather armor and of course highlighting her womanly assets.

"You're not clear of sins, are you, Dragonborn?"

My hands traces her pouches and looking for something to obstruct her speech. Luckily she keeps enough small cloths in her pouches that would suffice for her gag.

"To receive Boethia's grace requires some atrocious acts," I offer the cloth to her mouth and her lips part willingly. "You of all people should know that, dunmer."

I push the cloth in her mouth, pass her teeth and stuffing her mouth to the brim. She lets out sounds of discomfort but does nothing to really try and evade or absolve some of the disdain she is experiencing. As soon as her mouth is fully stuffed, I take the other cloth and once again reciprocate the binds on her captives' mouth. Knotting the middle, I place that in between her lips and affectively cleave gagging her with the knot of hidden under her shoulder length black hair. The tautness of it is displayed quite prominently through the grimace on her face. With her words no longer adequate, I continue the binding process, lashing another cord around her navel and with it secured, I set the said rope between her legs and right into her own womanhood. Her eyes staring at the rope the whole time and even still as I position myself behind her for the inevitable securing of the crotch rope.

"UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!"

The immediate vocal response from Sherelle pierces through Swindler's Den's open space. Her physical reaction concurring with her gagged plea as she is now on her tip toes as if trying her best to alleviate some of the affect of me pulling on the rope in an upward angle. Despite her leather pant's protection, the penetration of the rope and with the force I enforce causes enough strain to adequately show through body language. As I kept the rope up for a few moments, she continues to groan through her gag and the other gagged captives also lets out their opinions. With that, I ease my force and proceed to bind the crotch rope. Tight and properly place in between her sex, any movement from her hands would cause more than enough sensations to hinder or perhaps entice her… more or less. Ignoring her muffled words, I ease her down so that she would sitting on her behind. The process was of course more than uncomfortable given the circumstances. From there I bind her ankles together, once again applying the same tautness in the bondage so that it would cause the leather material of her boots to distort. I then give her knees the same treatment, causing more movements from her legs to be further hindered. There was one more thing to do before I finish.

"For one who abides by shadows and stealth," I say as I trace my hands about her boots searching for something peculiar. "You do not carry weapons that would be helpful in this situation. Or perhaps," With that I roll her over to her stomach with very little care about her well being. Again I evoke a few more garbled complaints in the process. "You never fathomed that you would find yourself in such a predicament."

Pushing her ankles to her rear I take another coil of rope and bind them to her wrists leaving very little room for movement. The process of making the hogtie causes more unwanted(or wanted) movements with her hands which of course causes her crotch rope deeper in her. Her 'silent' moans insinuate a bit more of both pain and pleasure, it would seem. Finally the hogtie is done and Sherelle finds herself in a very restricting position. Taking her glass daggers to my grasp, I stand up with my eyes looking down on her. Her own red orbs staring back at me. Confusion in those eyes accentuates just how unclear my intent is for her as she sees it. But one thing is for sure and I'm more than aware that she feels it: I didn't spend that time binding her just to kill her.

"Your former comrade's blades are everywhere. If you have the will and the allotment you can worm yourself towards them and free yourself," There are more than enough weapons to help her in her plight. But movement would be difficult for more than one reason. I turn my eyes towards the captives who are also awaiting their fate. Their eyes of course spelling the need for them to be released of their bondage and gaining some modesty back. "But now you can get a bit of what your captives felt with every struggle, Sherelle."

With both glass daggers in my hand, I walk towards the wood elf. My actions as of late may have caused some ambivalence in her for there is fear now within her green eyes. She squirms as much as her revealing yet confining position would allow her. I can see her lips quivering despite the cloth binding her speech.

To Be Continued...