Sisters of Tevinter

Red Jenny

  Cassandra tossed her head and turned, irritation pulling her spine taut. An armored guard was striding towards them, his spear levelled. 

   Jor raised an eyebrow, falling still beside the Seeker. "Can we help you, soldier?" 

    "You're trespassing." 

   "I think you'll find that assessment to be exaggerated. This is a public street, if scantly used, and we're heading for the main road." 

   The guard came closer, face hidden by his helmet. "You're on private property."

  There was a shuffling of cloth and plate mail from every angle of the alley, the gates rattling softly as people climbed over or passed through them. They were not alone. Other guards were nearby, moving, perhaps they hadn't seen them yet. Jor didn't understand, this wasn't right. This man wore Orlesian armor, and she knew almost for certain that this road was not private property. 

    Cassandra's hand fell to the hilt of her sword, leaning to speak in the Inquisitor's ear. 

     The guard squared his shoulders and bared forward his spear. "Long Live the Elder One." 

     Oh sHIT- Jor grabbed for the daggers at her sides. Cassandra drew her sword. "A set up!"

     A scarlet shape sprang catlike to the wall above them, perched on the gate, bowstring pulled close to her cheek, grinning. "Just say wot."

   "What?"

   "Heh." She loosed the arrow with the short hiss of wood through air and the slick phut of the shaft through flesh. The 'guard' toppled, fletching sprouting from his throat like some rigid wild flower. 

     Jor threw up her hands as the elfwoman levelled another arrow at the Inquisitor's chest from her perch, uneven chop of blonde hair swinging in the breeze. She relaxed slowly, lowering her aim, still grinning from ear to pointed ear. "Heya."

     Cassandra scowled. "Who are you?" 

     "Funny question, innit." The elf swung down from her perch, her accent harsh and choppy as her hair, distinctly Ferelden. "You can put away your shiny, luv, I just saved your sorry arses. I weren't planning on spearing you too."

       "We appreciate that," Jor said with a heavy breath, lowering her hands. Cassandra begrudgingly sheathed her sword. 

       "Name's Sera, nice to meet you, Inquisitor. Makin' it easier for us normal people to get along out'ere." She beamed and gave a theatrical bow. 

       "Hello, Sera." Jor grinned. "Thanks for the save." 

       "Weren't nothin' to it." She waved a hand airily. "Can't stand these stuffed hats-- thinkin' they own the place, he wasn't even a standie, now was he?" She frowned. "Heard about all this Elder One shite, but wouldn'a pegged the Orlesians as the mix n' match type." 

        "I would hazard a guess he was a spy. Not a clever one." Cassandra scowled and nudged the corpse with her boot. "He should have left to report our position, attacked us on the road with allies."

       "Now, Cassandra, let's not give them any ideas." Jor smiled slightly. "Let's go home."

        A shout pierced the balmy night air. "Man down! Man down!"

       Jor winced. Oh... Perhaps he was clever after all. A man in Orlesian armor, cut down by the Inquisitor and her companions in a back alley. That didn't look good. "A martyr."

       Sera cackled. "Took 'em a while to get here." She grinned. "Prolly because I stole their breeches from the barracks." 

       "You what?" Cassandra hissed, tugging Jor down a side street and starting to run. 

       Sera kept pace, fleet and fluid as a lynx. She was still cackling. "Was gonna raid a few mansions tonight with friends. Wanted them off the scent. Good, innit?" 

       Arrows rained down the alley, armored footsteps pounded after them. A sword flashed in an adjacent street. 

       "You didn't think to take their weapons?" Jor panted. 

       "But, no breeches!" Sera laughed, snickering.