"The Introduction"  
  

To the door of the Porcupine walked a lonely Character, looking much  
like an wood elf, Ruddy complexion, brown hair, Dark eyes and very  
definite female curves in the right places.  

She opened the door and entered the Tavern, standing quite still for a  
few moments, so the patrons could admire her latest outfit: a complete  
Elven suit of Plate mail with a noticeable blue shimmer, a Helm seems to  
be missing; perhaps it would obscure Her dainty features.  

With a naughty glint in her eye, She said;  

Salutations, I am Mea Culpa, and I believe some one offered me a free  
drink or two.  

After which She walks (with feline like movements) over to a empty  
table, picking a chair that faces the door and rests against the wall.  

An expectant smile appeared on Her face and She sat down and  
waited............  

Watching the bar, I noticed a powerfully built Dark Elf, dressed completely in  
Red Daedric armor, and very handsome, so being a girl I wanted to know more and  
walked up to him. Good day to you Sir, I said, would it be possible for this  
mere female to buy you a drink?  
After the customary exchanges of identity, I realized that this was "The  
Balefire", you know the one that's renowned in all of Tamriel as the Mercenary  
for hire for anything, which only made it more of a challenge to me, so putting  
my mouth where my heart is, I said, would you be able to spare some time, and  
show me some moves with that "big sword" of yours?  

"A pleasure, M'Lady.  Fascinating name, and one I have heard ere this.  
Well, some count me as well-versed in long weapons.  I would not call  
myself a master, though, albeit 'tis true that I remain alive while  
innumerable erstwhile foes are not.  These days I favor the two-handed  
claymore, as you can see...for fighting, anyway.  I have some skill in  
other long weapons, as well, however.  Choice of weapons oft depends on the  
type of engagement, of course.  We mercenaries are fond of saying 'the  
right tool for the job', and this is true, mark you, of *all* kinds of  
sparring, as well as more deadly strife.  Of course, the length of the  
weapon is much less important than how it is used."  He raised his tankard  
to his lips; it almost seemed he was trying to hide a smile.  
"If sparring is what you seek, M'Lady, I can accommodate you.  In deference  
to our host Elfiran, though, the common room may not be the best venue.  
Would outside suit you better, or would the privacy of my room upstairs be  
more appropriate, think you?"  

Well, I'll tell you, my cheeks where beginning to warm up, and a rosy glow  
appeared all over my body, Gods, just the aroma of this man made my hormones do  
overtime.  
"Well, I do say, you have a way with words, Sir"  
I felt my neck and my cheeks go hot and I just knew that under this great  
but painful suntan there was a gargantuan blush spreading all over me.  
Balefire drew another measure from the keg of ale, and looked seriously at  
his companion.  The obvious blush was intriguing, given that Mea Culpa  
seemed to be a very martial sort of woman.  

"'Tis kind of you to say so, M'Lady.  I make no pretense to the eloquence  
of a bard, but the study of the Art, of Magicka, necessarily leads to a  
certain care and precision in language, at least.  An error in a spell  
could cause significant embarrassment, if not outright danger.  You may  
have heard some of the tales about apprentice mages..."  
"And yes the right tool often makes the job more pleasurable."  

"I thought you might agree with me on that.  "'Tis one of the first lessons  
an experienced...ah...tool-user learns."  The armored Dark Elf Warmage  
settled into a position as comfortable as his greaves would allow, and  
draped his cloak carefully, ensuring quick access to staff or swords.  

I noticed that Balefire sat down next to me and I wondered, are all  
fighters paranoid?.  
Balefire noticed a certain look of anxiety, but decided it must be natural  
caution from a warrior when another sat nearby.  He tried to appear as  
unthreatening as possible, knowing as he did that it was essentially a  
doomed attempt.  At his best, Balefire's mere presence was a fell one.  

I watched him conjure another barrel of ale and once more, my goblet was  
refilled, which prompted me to say;  
"But surely Sir, it would not do to get an innocent girl like me tipsy  
afore a bit of sparring" I said with a twinkle in my eye, looking at the  
refilled wine goblet and being quite impressed at the amount of  
dishwater that appeared in a keg at the table.  

"Certes, I have never been one to let the fruit of the vine or the field  
do my job for me, nor any part of it.  You seem to be in...", he cast an  
appreciative eye over her form, "...remarkably good shape.  Surely a bottle  
-- or two -- of that fine Elf-made wine would not make you tipsy.  I would  
offer you some of this excellent dark ale, but you seem to be regarding it  
with some distaste.  I can assure you that it is some of the best Elfiran  
has to offer."  
I managed to find a piece of carrot that was a little on the big side  
and proceeded to nibble on that, never taking my eyes of him.  
In a very low voice I said "a Claymore you say, well I have never  
trained with such a large weapon before but I'm willing to learn" after  
all a girl can never know enough.  
He answered with a smile "A claymore, yes, the two-handed variety.  I know of a  
distant plane where another sort of claymore is wielded, or was...a  
single-handed,  
basket-hilted weapon.  For war, I favor the Tamriel claymore because it has  
both sharp edges and weight.  A good compromise weapon for quests when one  
knows not what sort of foes one will meet.  The lighter edged weapons are  
less effective against, for example, skeletal warriors. "For other types  
of...ah...sparring, however, other tools are preferable.  
If you insist on instruction with the claymore, I will be happy to be of  
service, but I had another, rather more blunt, weapon in mind.  
Sufficiently long, I believe, for its purpose...especially if wielded with  
skill.  Timing is very important.  And matching one's stroke speed with  
that of one's partner.  Recovery, too, is important...the faster the  
better, generally.  'Tis true that Twilight, if she arrives as expected,  
would be happier if I gave you instruction in the claymore, but Akatosh  
knows where she is at the moment.  You, however, are close to...ah...hand."  
Unfortunately at that time some of the previously imbibed beer got the  
better of me and a slight but to my ears a noisy "BRRRRRRP" escaped.  
Balefire gallantly ignored Mea Culpa's brief lapse.  Likely she had been  
drinking some inferior, overly gassy beer.  Little wonder she seemed to  
shudder when he drew another tankardful of ale, quaffed it, and drew  
himself another.  He tapped the keg to check its level, and was reassured  
to find that less than half was gone.  
By now I was sure that my face would be as red as Balefire's armour and  
quickly stuck my face over the stew bowl and pretended to eat  
enthusiastically.  
"I am heartened by your evident enjoyment of Elfiran's stew, M'Lady.  I  
rarely eat when I am drinking, but you certainly seem to be a living  
endorsement for the quality of the Angry Porcupine's menu.  Have you been  
off on a quest somewhere, perhaps, and not been able to get high-quality  
meals?" he said with a glimmer of laughter in his red eyes.  
"I would certainly like to hear more about your background, M'Lady, and  
about your recent travels.  'Tis a bit noisy here in this common room...of  
course, that is as it should be in a well-run tavern.  Perhaps you would  
prefer to come with me to my room, where we could converse -- and do a bit  
of sparring, perhaps -- in a more private environment? "he continued.  
However, a girl gotta keep on keeping on, and I promptly sat up straight  
with the faint hope that he might notice my rather low cut (blush)  
cuirass, "You are a most entertaining fellow" I said "can you do other  
tricks than moving barrels ?" this with a coy smile on my face.  
"Ah, M'Lady, I am an experienced Archmage.  The tricks with the coins and  
the ale keg are mere amusements.  I am honored that you find these minor  
examples of the Art entertaining, but I can assure you that I have many  
other tricks that would amaze and delight you.  I cam make the earth move,  
and a sky full of sparks flash, and rivers of...ah...liquid pour forth when  
all was dry before.  Some of my colleagues have said that my skills in the  
Art lean too much toward Destruction, but that is because they are only  
aware of my more public demonstrations of the Art.  In private, I have any  
number of 'tricks' that I'm sure you would find delightful.  If you have  
much magicka ability, I could even teach you my Cantrip of Constant Stamina  
Regeneration...a handy one for some types of sparring, as you can  
doubtlessly imagine."  
Balefire's fiery eyes seemed to have increased in their burning intensity,  
although his expression remained controlled.  He took off his right  
gauntlet and reached for her hand.  "Let me see if I can feel how much  
Magicka ability you have.  Well, well...except for the sword callouses, you  
have exceptionally soft hands.  Rather like satin..."  

By now I was totally lost, is this what they mean when the say " I don't  
know if I'm coming or going?"  

I don't know, but I've always been impressed by eloquent speech and such  
manners,from a Dark Elf yet.  
He asks me to make a decision, oh how cruel life can be, but really what  
is there to decide a possibility of ..... can I say it, happiness or nothing!  
Decision.....well I am an Elf so what is there to consider except the past.  

Balefire watched impassively as a torrent of emotion washed across the  
young warrior's face.  Inwardly pleased that she was taking his advice at  
least somewhat to heart, he let no shadow of emotion betray his hope for  
what her decision would be.  He took another sip of ale, set down the  
tankard, and flexed his shoulder muscles.  Strange, how tight they had  
become.  Outside the tavern, a horse's steps came nearer, the sound barely  
registering on his consciousness, but noticed all the same.  

"M'Lord, it would be my pleasure to retire with you at your leisure"  
"Oh Julianos,save me" I thought I'm beginning to talk in lyrics.  
However I summoned what strength and courage I had left and put on my  
"Hero" face and replied tersely "Lead on sir am your willing student"  
"Is it so, indeed?" He murmured so none but she could hear.  "I, then,  
shall be your willing teacher.  Thus are fates changed, M'Lady.  So be it."  

Never NEVER, I said to my self has Mea Culpa Lost a Battle this quickly and all  
without a single moment of combat.  
Meanwhile my "Little voice was telling me, make sure that he has a  
proper scabbard you don't want to get unduly marked"  
But I wasn't listening to THAT, I was completely taken over by his  
rhetoric about patience, destruction and his incredible strength that  
just seem to lift me of my feet.  
Thirstily, I drank the wine and was surprised to see it was all gone,  
but oh that wonderful man refilled it for me, "can he read my mind" I  
wondered, this is all so far removed from what I am or rather what I  
became.  
Maybe there is truth in that old wives tale, behind every good women  
stands a good man.  
For the God's sake Mea, shut up dribbling, what are you a fighter or  
some love stricken old maid.  
Grasping his staff more strongly, Balefire watched the play of thought and  
emotion in Mea's eyes.  He reached down and picked up the tankard, draining  
the last swallow.  The tankard disappeared.  
My heart answered, does it really matter what you are, be happy, you  
know it has been a long rough road, so enjoy a moment of peace and  
tranquility.  
At that I finished my last goblet and looked at Balefire and yes my  
heart opened to him as our eyes met, and my very soul seem to entwine in  
those ruby red pools of knowledge.  
Getting all my courage roused up I linked my arm through his " Gosh, I  
never noticed that elven steel and daedric went so well together" I  
mused.  
Clamping her arm gently but firmly in his, he raised his staff and began  
the spell to teleport them both to his room above.  He hesitated as a draft  
reached him, and the door of the inn swung open.  
There in the doorway, dusty but still resplendent in Ebony armor, dark hair  
flying like a banner in the wind and deep dark eyes ablaze, stood Twilight,  
legendary mercenary and mage, storied mistress of stealth and illusion,  
Protector of Anticlere, Balefire's long-time comrade (and, it was rumored,  
more...).  A gesture almost too swift for the eye to follow, and she was  
juggling three daggers.  Faster they flew, and faster, until they seemed a  
razor-edged ring revolving through her hands.  A blue-green aura of magicka  
built up around her, glowing steadily brighter.  Power crackled in the air  
and the inn's patrons stared as the hair rose on their arms and necks.  
"Hail, Lord Balefire.  Well met in Vanshire."  Her calm, almost soft tones  
belied the blatant promise of death surrounding her.  The knives,  
incredibly, redoubled their speed until they faded in and out of  
visibility. "Were you going somewhere?"  
For some unknown reason, a feeling of defeat came over me and then.....  
the door, it opened, well that by it self is not unusual, but what  
happened next is. There She stood, I knew instinctively who she was,  
nobody can look that good after coming through the worst dust storm one  
can imagine.  
Balefire coolly regarded Twilight as she stood just inside the open tavern  
door, the very embodiment of deadly force kept barely in check.  He briefly  
entertained, but quickly discarded, the notion of raising a Shield spell.  
Instead, he stood unmoving, still firmly clasping Mea Culpa's arm, and with  
his Teleport spell half-finished.  He fixed his unwavering gaze on his  
lovely but deadly fellow mercenary, but spoke not a word.  
So this is Twilight, I thought, well we shall see what the future brings.