The moment Reigenleif heard the commotion break out on the other side of the room she sprung into action. With a flick of her fingers, a white glowing rune pattern formed itself on the table the guards were sitting around, moments before one of them put his tankard down. As soon as the tin mug made contact with the magicka there was an explosion of light, with the sound of a million shattering icicles filling the room. The three men were thrown back off their seats and to the ground before they knew what was happening. One of them landed almost at Reigenleif’s feet, and she wasted no time at all reaching down and placing an electrified hand on his chest, the charge conducting through his chainmail armour and cooking him alive.

When she stood to deal with the other two, she was shocked to discover that one was already standing and about to charge her, and the other wasn’t far behind. The charging man hadn’t had time to acquire his shield, but the scimitar he was already wielding was dangerous enough on its own. Reigenleif barely had time to cast Ironflesh on herself before she had to raise her staff in a two handed grip and block a swipe at her neck. The mans next strike was a near vertical hack, likely aimed to overpower her in a contest of strength, but she had fought men that assumed mages were incompetent up close before. She sidestepped the blow, keeping her staff between her and the sword even as she swung the bottom of it in at the back of the guards knee.

The man, having stepped too far into his power blow, suddenly found his leg swept from under him. He toppled awkwardly to the ground and Reigenleif stepped back, preparing a thunderbolt as she went. Another flick of her wrist saw the poor crumpled guard dispatched as his flesh cooked and his magicka burned away.

Reigenleif was about to turn to throw another spell at the final guard when she realised he was acting rather strangely. He hadn’t charged despite being ready to do so, instead he was raising a dagger as if to throw it. The dagger left his hand before her spell was ready, but she was confident her ironflesh would protect her. A bolt of fire left her hand moments before the dagger struck, but she did not see what happened then, as the blade cut through the fabric of her sleeve and made the tiniest cut into her arm. She did not notice the scratch, and would not have cared had she not suddenly felt her ties to aetherius suddenly slipping away. The flames licking around her hand suddenly went out and the colour seemed to drain from the world. Her eyes widened as she realised the dagger had been poisoned, and she had been silenced.

Before she could react, the final guard was upon her, another dagger in hand. He reached around her with his free arm and she tried to call for help “Zave-”

Her voice was cut off as a length of cold steel was driven into her chest. A whimper escaped her, the world seemed to slow down and all she could see were the hard eyes of the guard. He was just doing his job. Dispatching a criminal. [i]Her[/i].

She was only on her feet because of the deadly embrace the guard held her in, and when he let her go, wrenching the dagger from her magically reinforced flesh, she fell to ground hard. Her staff fell from her hand, rolling away across the stone floor.
All at once, darkness rushed towards her and the colour flooded back into the world. She could hear the distant song of Sovngarde, but also the vital rush of aetherius reasserting its connection, the magicka flowing as freely as her blood now did. With a final effort of will, she forced the golden light of a restoration spell into both hands and focused on her mortal injury. The soothing effect of the magic sent her already shocked body and mind into shutdown, and she couldn’t help but shut her eyes and drift away. 

But despite that, she would live. She was not ready to go to Sovngarde yet.