Time Of Reckoning

A Considerable Jump

Standing above the carnage of blood, flesh and metal, silver eyes stared down at the unconscious body of an elf. Shoulder length blond hair, a sleek tattoo on his left cheek, tan skin. He wore fine leather and had a cocky expression even while passed out in his own blood.

Mel grunted, looking over her shoulder to the hulking gray giant, Sten. "Pick em up after I tie him. We need to question him."

The Qunari nodded, exhaling loudly through his nose as he stood over the scene with a judgemental gaze. He made no moves to come closer, nor did he sheath his blade.

Kneeling down, the elf undid a few belts on the would-be assassin, using it to bind his feet. She did the same to his arms, securing them behind his back tightly. Once she was done, she stood and gestured to Sten before going about looting the corpses and burned carriages. The assassins had made a mess of this place, but there had to be some things of use around.

-

Cold air pebbled the Crow's bare skin, eliciting a shiver as he slowly regained consciousness. Mind swimming, it was hard to tell whether his eyes were open or not. Crickets chirped around him, leaves brushing against each other, the sound of the night.

His skin scraped against what felt like the bark of a tree, and his legs hung in open air, stuck together. Scratchy rope wound around his throat but he could not move his arms to itch it. It quickly became apparent that he was, indeed, not in a whorehouse like he had dreamed.

It took a while for his sight to adjust, but he soon became aware of one shiny silver eye staring at him. "Mm... Ow..." He shook his head, blinking hard a few times. "I rather thought that I would wake up dead, or not wake up at all, as the case may be..." Now he could see light blond hair, lit by the few rays of moonlight through the leaves. He zeroed in on the eyes, instincts kicking in to overdrive. "I... I assume you kept me alive for an interrogation?"

"You'll have noticed the rope around your throat, I'm sure. Say anything I find displeasing and I kick you backwards. I've made sure that you'll suffer for at least ten minutes before you die." The woman pushed the funnel of what Zevran assumed was a water skin between his teeth. "Drink."

It would be easy to anger her, he thought. To force her hand and have him pushed over. He looked her over, considering to himself. On one hand, the woman was a very capable rogue. He had no doubt that had he actually tried in their battle, she would have won regardless.

Besides all of that, wasn't death what he was after to begin with?

Her words held a tone of certainty, and it was likely she spoke the truth on how she had rigged this makeshift execution. The tattoos on her face were obviously Dalish, and while they were not the savages many thought them to be - The wild elves certainly knew their way around making their enemies regret their decisions.

Zevran certainly did not wish to die like that. He couldn't imagine many who would.

The Crow obeyed her order, sipping the liquid before sputtering. It was cheap Ferelden ale. However the skin stayed firmly pressed against his lips. "Drink." Saucey little minx, wasn't she?

Swallowing his pride, the Assassin did as he was told, knowing that he had no other choice.

She held the alcohol to his mouth until he'd finished the whole skin, leaving him coughing and dizzy. The fear of death mixed with the alcohol, churning in to a dangerous concoction. He felt like he might be getting sick.

"Good. Now," the woman crossed her legs, seeming to settle down again, leaning against the base of the tree. "I'm assuming you were hired by Loghain?"

Zevran followed her lead, leaning against the tree so as not to lose balance and fall backwards. He needed to stay calm. Although the alcohol was making that rather hard, especially being nearly naked up in a cold tree. "Me? Not personally, he did pay the Crows a great deal however."