Lorkhan's Eclipse [A Skyrim Fanfiction]

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He's a skilled warrior, and I dance back out of his reach, bringing my sword up, ready to block or parry his next strike. He has the height and strength, but I have the agility. We've met a few times before now, but this is the last time. One of us won't be walking away--

He lunges. I turn to the left, only to feel his sword slice across my back as he breaks out of his feint. I twist away from the strike, silently thanking my armour - but he presses again, his dual short swords almost blurring as he moves them in.

I block one, but the other bites into my side and I cry out. I break lock and catch him across the right arm, and the sword slips from his hand. He lunges back at the same moment I do, eyeing each other as we size each other up, catching our breath.

He moves again, coming at me with renewed energy fuelled by his wrath. Block, block, dodge, parry, slash--

I feel the blade before I see it, catching me under the arm, driving into my ribcage. The breath is driven from me with this final blow, and I stagger back. He grins lazily as I drop to one knee, angling his sword tip to rest against my throat. I tilt my chin up; I refuse to beg.

"Good match,"

Cheers erupt around us as the host sweeps in and announces him the champion. Our LARP group love to see a good fight, and apparently we're two of the best-matched players on the field. He scoops up his second sword and we shake hands, the rest of the group swamping us with congratulatory comments.

The debrief is short, recapping the night's events as well as reminding us of the major weekend event coming up this weekend. The Artisans' Guild is requested to be onsite for an early meeting, drawing a quiet groan from myself and the other members; as the only real blacksmith among our group, I'm one of the lead members. Another dawn start for me, by the sounds.

Once the announcements are done, we mostly break apart and start to collect our things. Killian is still surrounded by his clanmates, but he knows I'll meet him at the car.

"Does it ever get weird, fighting your twin?" Listhardt asks, sidling up as I spray down my swords. He's nice, but for the life of me I can't remember his real name. It isn't unusual to call people by their character names, though. "Y'know, looking at him would have to be like looking in a mirror."

"If that's what I look like in the mirror, I think I need a new mirror," I chuckle, swinging the sword around a bit to make sure the spray has stuck. Killian and I are an oddity in that we're identical twins - but we're also brother and sister. As far as anybody's been able to find out, we're the only current case of male/female identical twins in the country, possibly the world.

It doesn't help that we come with a whole variety of other genetic fuckery as well, but that's a chapter of our lives we'd both rather bury.

"I mean, I think it's cool as heck," Listhardt says as he trails me while I move to the boot and toss some of my outer kit into the bag there. "You're, like, y'know, two of the most immersed people in the game. It's like you stepped out of Middle-Earth or something. Great fighters, you can do all the language stuff. I'm kinda glad you're in totally different clans, rest of the field would be wiped if you set out together."

Listhardt is one of those guys that likes to talk but doesn't always know how to talk. Not to mention, I have a strong feeling he's got a crush. Poor guy; I know I should let him down gently, but I don't know for certain if he actually does, and if he doesn't then that'd probably be embarrassing (and very humbling for sure).

"Jake! Need a hand," Ethelwyn, Listhardt's girlfriend (or rather, Jake's girlfriend apparently) calls out as she drags her suitcase to the back of their car. Listhardt hurries over to help, as Killian approaches. His clan, the "evil" group, usually have their own debrief after everyone else. Playing the on-field bad guys is a hard job and can really get to the players sometimes, so it isn't unusual to see them huddled together talking about game.