TheCzarsHussar

I'm pretty sure he is actually listed as African American for his race, in either the files or G.E.C.K

You know what, the thought just popped up in my mind. I have a challenge for Skyrim, make a Redguard character who only can use AOE fireball spells. Play as Easy Pete.

My best wishes to DarkRider.

Having never donated and helped carry the weight I figured it was the least I could do.

So where is Ubbe going to campaign?

Private Joker!

Hot damn its great to have you back!

Phew the birthday stuff is all but over, it was a good day to just eat out the house with my family. I just need to wrap up one post with Theudofrid and Baldur and that'll tie my side into chapter 4.

I have a history of restlessness the night before my birthday, I try and settle myself into bed but still stay up hours later.

Shoot I'm just in that awkward phase where what facial hair I have is short and... Blond. At least my mustache has been nice and dark since thirteen

That's a long story. When I was a young child visiting my grandparents, they took me and my aunt (who was only a few years older) to a flea market. Someone mistook me for a girl and asked if "You two ladies wanted to look at some purses", I was so embarrassed I never wore long hair again. Until earlier last year mom made me a bet. If I could grow out my hair long enough to get in a ponytail she'd pay me a hundred dollars. Almost there.

This is the face of a man!

>:D I was born around 12 AM as well, I'm a man now! It can be fixed, I just need to edit it out and copy in the post it was meant to be. As for the speed that's why I waited until I had internet again, can go quickly on the PC.

I must have copied outside the boundary of the post.

Colonel knows what's up, Garlic is amazing.

I bit off more then I could chew, was later then I realized and I need to go to bed earlier. The end of page 4 was were I stopped, whoever takes the torch will need to start at the beginning of page 5. http://tesalliance.org/forums/index.php?/topic/7059-civil-war-aftermath-chapter-3-seasons-end-post-civil-war-roleplaying-111/&page=5

High Rock The mercenaries came ashore several hours after the sun set, at that late hour in which nothing stirs. Their ship, a shallow keeled caravel, could have easily maneuvered up Deleyn’s Rush, but that would bring them in sight of the villagers who lived at the base of Wyrd Hill Keep, the seat of House Mon. This was intended to be a quiet affair, and the Sisters of Silver were not about to take their chances with a peasant boy catching wind of their being here. And so they disembarked on the coast with ten others in tow, quietly moving towards the keep. As most houses lined the river, they approached from the north. Soon, they arrived at the small tunnel entrance that led into Duke Mon’s keep, hidden in a group of boulders lying in a stand of trees. A guard opened the door after Sosia identified herself, though her raspy voice made it unmistakable who she was. Her sister Senna waited until the others passed through, and took up the rear of the party. More wary than Sosia, she feared this was a trap, though begrudgingly had given in to the stronger willed sister. They crept along through the tunnel, the only light conjured by the leading guard. Boots scuffling the dirt floor was the only sound, and the earthen walls dampened even that. It seemed as though the passageway might collapse any minute, yet the journey was uneventful. Finally, a door appeared, just as it seemed the tunnel would go on forever. It opened through a false wine barrel, and the Silver Brigade mercenaries stepped into the cellar. The white and green clad guard motioned for the two sisters to follow him, while the remaining sellsword waited, in case things went awry. They climbed up the stairs, and got a fleeting look at elegant and tastefully decorated Hall of Wisdom, so named for the owls of the Mon family. Passing that by, Sosia and Senna came to the living quarters, where the guard pointed them to Jhared Mon’s study. “He’s in there,†the guard said, standing vigil by the staircase as they walked the length of the hall to the study. Sosia grasped the door handle and quickly opened the door. Senna had her hand the hilt of her mace, ready to use it at a moments notice. Duke Mon had his back to the sisters, his features indistinguishable against the bright dual moons, which cast ghostly rays through the window. Against the moonlight, Jhared looked skeleton thin, his features taut and pronounced. “You’re late,†he said, now turning to face the twins. His sunken andbeady eyes studied the two, no doubt looking for some mark to identify who was who. “Your tunnel is too long,†Sosia rasped out. “Ah, so you must be Sosia then. That,†he nodded towards the scar across her throat, “must have been painful.†Sosia grimaced, her eyes narrowing at the pretentious noble. “It was,†Senna said. “Now lets talk. You said you have a job for us. What is it?†Duke Mon gestured to the chairs, where the sisters sat, though Senna hesitated until Jhared did the same. “Testy, I see. Do you not trust me?†Their silence was answer enough, so Duke Mon continued. “I have a job for you two. As I understand it, your last job left you resentful of our king.†Both sisters made no move to answer, their biggest concern this meeting being a trap, hoping to catch them speaking out against Adrard. After what happened to their cousin and former Silver Brigade leader, Salomon Silver, they needed to be cautious. Mon smiled, though his eyes remained cold and analytical. “You needn’t worry, I am as resentful as you. He wronged me, as he did you, and I seek recompense.†Something about the way he said it made him seem honest, as if the loathing in his voice couldn’t possibly be faked. Senna scoffed, leaning forward onto the large desk separating the mercenaries from the nobleman. “What, did he hurt your feelings? He paid that fool Socucious enough coin to convince him to take us into the deepest part of the Reach. And you know what we found? Vicious Reachmen who’d rather skin you alive than kill you, so they can fashion suits of skin and dance around bonfires in them, and then bleed you like a pig as a sacrifice. They poison their blades with slow acting poisons that take fortnights to kill, so that you can smell your limbs rotting. We fought monsters, not men, and lost half the company. That’s what he did to us.†Duke Mon remained silent for a long while, his eyes neither averted nor wholly focused on the sisters, as if he stared at some unseen thing between them. He at least had the courtesy to drop his smile, but even his pity seemed false. Finally, he said, “Then what I have in mind should fit you two perfectly. I not only propose employment, but revenge.†Though they remained skeptical, Mon could see the interest dancing in the sisters’ eyes. Sosia asked in her raspy voice “What’s your plan? Attack him? Raid his lands? Sounds like a quick way to get killed, going against a king.†This time, Mon’s smile was genuine. “No, my darlings, that’s the beauty of it. Once done, the king cannot touch you. For you will be in Cyrodiil.†Though they hadn’t yet figured it out, Mon could see the sisters working out at least part of the plan. “That’s right, we won’t be fighting him. The Empire will fight him for us. But to incur their wrath, you will need to set aside any morals you may hold. Though considering your field of choice, that shouldn’t be hard.†“Yes, morals aside, now what’s your plan? I swear you nobles talk just to hear the sound of your own voices,†Senna said. Mon scowled, briefly, but soon continued with the same excitement as before. “I’ve also hired the Crimson Chevaliers, and they are already on their way. You will meet them at the Ayleid ruin Ninendava, where they will then began raiding and attacking Orcish refugees moving across Cyrodiil.†“You hope to rile up the Empire then. I suppose we’ll say he hired us?†Senna asked. Mon vigorously wagged a slender finger at her. “Precisely. But, your group will march south, instead of attacking with the Chevaliers. They expect it to be a secondary attack on the Orcs, which I informed them was the plan, but in actuality you will turn request to speak with the Empress, and let her know what happened. Say you were hired to attack as well, but you couldn’t kill innocent civilians. Volunteer to lead the legion to the Chevaliers and wipe them out. You will have convinced the Empire that Adrard attacked Orcish refugees, you will have wiped out a competitor, and Adrard will be blindsided. And who knows, perhaps the Empire will request your assistance in taking the fat man out.†Sosia smiled, which stretched the scar on her neck and made it seem as though it were smiling too. “It is a good plan. He deserves to be cast down like a dog. But on what pretense did you hire the Chevaliers to attack Orcs?†Mon waved dismissively. “Their leader nearly forgot to ask, and even when he did, he didn’t seem to care much. I told him I simply hated them, and made up a tale about a son of mine dying at their hands. Which is the same story you will tell them if asked.†“What about payment?†Senna asked. “Half now, half upon your return. And whatever loot you get from the Chevaliers.†Senna nodded, slowly. She seemed lost in thought. After a minute or so, she asked, “What do you hope to gain out of this? The Empire cannot attack in full, and even if they did, no one wants another war, not before the next Great War.†Mon looked surprised at her line of questioning. “I’m impressed. You’re more intelligent than most of your colleagues. It is a fair question, but I cannot give you the details. After all, you are sellswords, a notoriously recreant breed. But suffice to say breeding chaos is my goal, and with chaos that I hope to sow dissension. For others to question Adrard, first they must see him fail.†“What about the Empire?†Sosia asked. “What do you expect them to do?†“A blockade seems the most realistic option, that or detaching a legion contingent. Either way, I care not. So long as Adrard suffers.†Both sisters seemed unconvinced about either option happening, but it was obvious Mon wasn’t adept at military matters, so they simply nodded in agreement. “Will you provide us with provisions and passage?†Senna asked. “Certainly,†Mon said. “I have friends in the shipping industry who owe me favors and can easily transport you, and ample provisions. I expect you’ll leave by the week’s end, and arrive at Ninendava around two weeks afterwards. Weather permitting, of course.†The Silver Brigade leaders seemed satisfied, and Senna said, “I look forward to taking Adrard down a peg or two.†After the money changed hands, Senna and Sosia left, back through the tunnel and out into the fields just north of the keep. Once they surfaced, with their emergency guard contingent, Senna and Sosia waited until they were well out of range before speaking to one another. “Can we trust him?†Senna asked. “He seems to hate Adrard, but…I get the feeling we’re just pawns to him.†Sosia laughed, which sounded like the cackle of a feral Alik’r desert dog. “He’s a noble. Of course he only thinks we’re pawns. Who gives a **** what he thinks.†Senna nodded, set slightly more at ease by her sister’s reassurance. After all, they were the treacherous sellswords, not him. ** The scruffy, wide-eyed, crooked nosed guard waited for his fellow watchman to close the hidden cellar door. He placed the coin pouch in the man’s hand, while managing to keep his own from shaking. “What’d you learn?†Scruffy beard asked. He noticed his voice didn’t waver, and couldn’t help be proud. He was turning into a downright decent spy after all, after that near debacle in Skyrim, delivering the letter to the High General. “Not much,†the other guard said. “The door was thick, but from what I make out, the Duke wants to hire them. He’s sending them to Cyrodiil, something to do with Orcs.†“Is that it?†Scruffy asked, his voice hinting at disappointment. “Sorry, that’s all I got,†the other guard said, giving a shrug as he left. Scruffy was then alone, to ponder his next move. King Adrard paid him well to report on the Duke, but he hadn’t much to tell. Only about the strange mage visitor, but that was hardly remarkable. And this…it didn’t seem like nothing, but what could it possibly mean? Scruffy remembered it wasn’t his job to investigate, just report what he knew. Walking briskly to his bunk, he sloppily penned the letter, and found the designated courier in the town tavern. He paid the man, who set off immediately, as required their arrangement. But upon his return, he found the gate barred, and no amount of shouting nor banging produced a response. Finally, just as he began to suspect a cruel joke was at hand, Duke Mon leered over the wall high above. Scruffy’s heart sunk. He’d been caught. “Out for a midnight stroll?†Mon asked. Beside him, another face leaned. At first, Scruffy didn’t recognize it, but as the torch flames danced shadows across his face, he realized it was the other guard, the one he’d bribed. As the other guard splattered against the ground, Scruffy considered running, but heard the sound of hooves trampling behind him. He was trapped. Scruffy turned around to inspect the new arrivals, and who he assumed would be his executioners. He was surprised to see them disappointed, as though they’d somehow failed. “Well? Where’s the courier?†Mon shouted down. “M’lord, we couldn’t find him. We block off all roads north to Camlorn but he never showed. Then we inspected the tavern, but the barkeep said he’d left, but to Daggerfall, not Camlorn.†Scruffy smirked as Mon paled, his flesh looking paler than a corpse’s. “Send riders now! You will not let him escape!†Scruffy knew it was too late, though. The courier had not but a few minutes head start, but that was all he’d need. His mount was swift, and he knew the land better than Mon’s men ever would. Scruffy contemplated how silly it was Mon hadn’t just nabbed them in the tavern, but he didn’t have long to think on it. The mace caving in his head ended that.

Dear Ms. Bathory, You and I, being two of the premier authors in Cyrodiil, nay, Tamriel, have a unique opportunity to reach out and touch the citizens of the former Empire. I myself am doing so by profiling the greatest leaders our province has to offer, and next on my list was someone dear to your own heart, Skjari Snow-Strider. The salacious manner of your relationship aside, I was hoping you could help me shed some light on our enigmatic Emperor. What is he like, personally? How accomplished of a mage is he? Why is he just now stepping out into the center stage of politics? What made the Empress choose him, over, say, Theodore Adrard's son? What do you think qualifies him to be Emperor? While I apologize if these questions seem daunting, I feel it of the utmost importance we give the public a real view into the White-Gold. In doing so, I believe we are helping to further the war effort, by inspiring the public and strengthening their view, positively, of the Imperial leadership. I do hope you agree. Best wishes, Albecias Plebo ** One Month Later The first thing Albecias did when he returned to the Black Horse Courier office each morning was check for letters. While usually he had only fan letters or crackpot theories about the leadership, today he received the long awaited reply from colleague and competitor Magdela Bathory. He hastily opened it, only remembering to close his office door at the last second. Eagerly, he read, My dear Albecias, What a surprise to find your little missive among my letters. I am flattered that an eminence in the literary world such as yourself would seek out my opinion on the state of our empire. I do hope that your reputation doesn't suffer as a result. Then again, I had heard your circulation was down and that your investors were nervous. Perhaps you seek by novel means to increase it? In any case, being these days infrequently in the Imperial City, I am afraid that I can offer little insight on our new emperor beyond what you could glean in the halls of the Elder Council and from your own observations of his actions. He has quelled rebellion and restored order to numerous counties where it was wanting. He has supported our fair empress through attempts on her life. He has brought the Elder Council to heel, rooted out treason among the legions, and is rebuilding our strength to face an implacable enemy. In these trying times, what more could one want in a leader? Even one not versed in military or political matters such as yourself should understand the import of these accomplishments. Our empress apparently does. As for why he steps onto the stage now, surely it does not need to be said that our poor empire is in dire need of strong, capable leadership. The man for the moment, as the saying goes. The public does not need insight. It needs bread, safety, and hope for the future. We do not subsist on words alone, as injurious as that may be to your own sense of security. The public will judge our emperor's performance based on those things, not on your scribblings or mine. Still, good Albecias, do take care to quote me accurately. You are rather fanciful in your interpretations at times. Perhaps you should try your hand at the erotic novel? Yours cordially, M.B. Albecias crumbled the parchment and threw it against the wall. The woman lied through her teeth. She’d slept with Snow-Strider after all, and yet was reluctant to assist a fellow literary artist in making sure the public was well informed on just who and what their government was. She presumes my circulation is down. Bah. She’s just jealous I am both a novelist and reporter, whereas she must suffice with those smutty ‘romance’ novels. That’s if they contain any romance and aren’t just longer versions of the Argonian Maid. And to suggest I write that trash? I would say I’d never been more insulted, if she didn’t also completely disregard the social importance of all of writing! Though she didn’t tell me anything about the palace, at least I now know just what an insufferable bitch she is, Albecias thought, realizing afterward his jaw was locked tighter than a crocodiles. He rose, and retrieved the letter, before locking it up in the floor safe beneath his desk. Though he doubted he would ever suffer through that miserable missive again, he might need to use it against her in the future. Or so he hoped. He took from the safe the letter from L, though he now was confident that L was simply a cover for High General Ceno. Albecias was certainly astonished that the political mechanizations of the man had gone thus far unnoticed, but knew someone as old as he must be skilled at this point. How old is he? 65? 70? Far past his usefulness, that much is sure. Albecias grabbed a pen and marked through Magdela’s name on the list. Already he’d crossed off Generals Lithin and Retrius, and Colonel Quentas, who he was sure ignored his own anonymous letter. That left only the High General himself and the Synod. Albecias thought it rather clever Ceno included himself on the list, so as to throw suspicion on someone else, but it was a pitiful ruse, the weakest link of the general’s so far perfect plan. But, Albecias thought with a roguish grin tracing his lips, his greatest blunder by far will be underestimating me.

Endar The tip of Endar's pen scrawled across the parchment, making words that intended for royal eyes. Normally, he had Elara to do this sort of menial work for him, but she had not returned since she left with the High Admiral a few days ago. He wasn't exactly sure how long it had been, given that he hadn't actually noticed their absence until two days ago, when he'd called for her to bring him tepid saltwater and was met with silence. Now, he had no stewardess, no saltwater, and no patience for this letter. He hastily scrawled out his requests and signed his name before folding it and opening a drawer to find his seal. As he searched, he felt a tiny wisp of magicka brush against his smaller bones, and turned to his crystal ball in time to see none other than Elara, draped in her enchanted cloak, approaching the room. She entered without knocking, bringing with her the pungent smells of cheap rum, sweat, and, oddly enough, scamp. She uttered some words of apology, including phrases like "needed a break", and "feeling better", but also a bunch of other nonsense that he tried to block out involving her being upset or angry or something. "Yes, yes. Riveting, truly." He waved a dismissive hand and gave her the letter. "Now that you're no longer out doing whatever it is you just said, you can bury your thoughts in something actually useful, like your job, and deliver this to the Empress." Her eyes narrowed the same way they often did when he cast spells near or on her without warning. But then she signed and diverted them to the letter. "She won't be able to read this. Your handwriting just looks like a bunch of scribbles. I'll rewrite it." Endar shrugged. "Fine. Just be sure it gets to the Empress it when you're finished." His steward sat at her desk in the corner and set back to work. She'd only just started when she spoke again. " 'Dear Empress Mede'? You know Mede is dead, right?" "Of course. And his daughter took his place." "It wasn't his-" Elara looked back at him as though he'd committed some crime. "Really? Empress Dales is a Motierre, not a Mede. Her father took over after Titus Mede II." "Really?" Now that she mentioned it, Motierre sounded right. It had been a simple enough mistake. "... Huh." Endar shrugged and opened his journal to update it with the contents of his letter. He was far too busy to spend much time thinking about the comings and goings of royal families. "And this part about "live Bosmer'... It's a little bit eerie. As in, illegal. I doubt Empress Dales will allow you this." "Live Thalmor Bosmer. There's a difference. And my research has reached a stage at which little progress can be made without suitable specimen to work with." "That's your Wild Hunt research for that elven fella, not the sun bird research you were hired here for." "They will have what they want from me." Endar replied. "But that does not mean that they can't allow me, as a friend of the palace, some liberties with my other work." "Friend? You can't even remember the Empress's name!" "Of course I can. And I will, now that I've spent more than a couple seconds thinking about it. Now finish the letter. It's imperative that she receive it before the next Great War." "Of course." Endar got to go back to writing in silence for a few seconds before she broke into the quiet yet again. "Wait, we're leaving? You didn't plan on telling me about this?" "You've been gone for a while. And now you know. So it's no problem. We need power sources similar to the ones described in the sun bird schematics, and the wizard we'd seek out might be the only person in Cyrodiil who knows how to create one. His name is Rythe Orealo, and I'd invite him here, but unlike myself, he's not exactly the 'social' type of mage. He's more of the 'kill trespassers and enthrall their souls' sort. Other than that, he's not bad company. We collaborated on occasion back in Morrowind." "So this mage, does he live in a cave? Is he safe?" "No, he most certainly does not live in a cave. He lives in a ruin, and a very nice one at that if what I've heard is true. And he is actually very dangerous, but for us, he should pose little threat. The soldiers I'm requesting to accompany are more to show off how official we are than to defend us. And besides, if he wanted to, Rythe could easily melt their eyeballs and turn their spirits into his own personal cupbearers." "That's reassuring." "Good. Because some undead can pick up on fear, and it would be best if you didn't give any of his guardians a reason to think our motives there would be against him." Elara looked nervous. "Well, they aren't, are they?" Endar shrugged. "We wizards can be stingy with our work. I will obtain his one way or another. The plan currently is to appeal to his sense of nostalgia for when we worked together, but if that fails, we will have no choice but to do something he may not like.... Don't worry. The hardest part won't be getting ahold of his research. It will be finding him. There is an old knightly order in the region known as the 'Knights of the Thorn'. If you recall, I sent you to to Cheydinhal some time ago to deliver a letter to them. I am expecting to meet one of the knights today, to discuss the venture." "Right... I am not sure I want to go on this trip." Endar hadn't anticipated that. Elara's best quality as a stewardess was her cooperation. He believed that was why she had lasted so much longer than most others. "Might I ask why?" "Because it sounds like the sort of trip that gets people killed. And undead monsters who taste fear or whatever are not what I signed up for." He groaned. "They don't taste fear, that would be ridiculous! And I will not require you to follow me into the ruins. Cheydinhal is far enough. I intend to take a detour on the way back that would benefit from the convenience of a steward being present." "Oh yeah? And where would that detour lead?" "To Bruma, where the Daedra left us mortals a rather impressive souvenir during the Oblivion Crisis." Endar saw that his stewardess clearly didn't know what he was talking about, so he went on. "It was a siege engine, capable of leveling cities like you or I could an ant hill. It is broken now, completely non-functional and unlikely to be repaired by materials found on Mundus. It's been studied plenty since, but not to the extent that it deserved." "How could a Daedric machine help you with your sun bird research?" "The same way that studying the insides of a troll teaches us about those of a man. The siege engine relied on a very powerful sigil stone to function. Such a stone, while useless for our purposes, would have needed quite an advanced vessel to coordinate its power throughout the machine. I can manage with regular welkynd stones well enough, but I've never contended with a greater one like we need. It would be useful to study how this siege machine utilized its power source so that we may compare it to the documents we have on the sun birds." "Alright." Elara tucked her completed letter into its envelope, and procured the seal from a drawer. "I'll go, but don't expect me to follow into some necromancer's ruins. You couldn't pay me enough for that." Endar still didn't understand the childish fear of undead, but he consented. "Fair enough. Now run along and deliver that to whomever can get it to Empress-" he paused for just a moment, "-Motierre. I will have departed for my meeting by the time you return." "Yes, Master Drenim." He turned back to his journal as the stewardess took her leave. I may have to hire a bolder one for future trips. he thought. Endar liked Elara, which was beyond rare when it came to his assistants. But it was important that he have someone capable of following him into places like Rythe's. Otherwise, he could end up with missing information on such locations that he did not have time to record himself. It was in the Tiber Septim Hotel that he had scheduled the meeting for that afternoon. An hour had passed between his discussion with Elara and his arrival at the building's lavish entrance hall. Red and black banners depicting the Imperial dragon lined the walls, and ornate gold vines wrapped around the great stone walls, which suffered no shortage of decorations, including more banners imported from all across Tamriel, wall mounts holding up fancy silver weapons, and portraits of various famous Emperors and heroes dating back to the Second Era. The hall was quiet. The few visitors who occupied it kept to their small groups at tables and lounge areas off to either side of the central entrance. Endar passed them all and headed for the winding stairs on the left side of the large room. His own contact was supposed to be waiting in a study on the second floor. When he reached the right door, Endar prodded it a couple times with his staff and let himself in. "Ah, Master Drenim!" The knight was still rising from his armchair when Endar came in. The man wore full plate mail covered in painted thorns, and seemed to be struggling to save his page in a book on account of the thick gauntlets. He was obviously an Imperial, with tan skin and dark brown hair cut short. His thick mustache hung low, and through it he spoke with a voice that Endar found to be humorously deep. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Bremman Senyan the Sixth." The knight extended a gauntlet hand, to which Endar nodded. "Of course you are... Why on earth are you wearing armor?" "Why, I wear this armor whenever I am in faraway langs." Bremman replied, returning his hand to his side where it belonged. "I- we knights have many enemies. Evil men and wicked monsters who would destroy the noble at first chance. I do not like to give them such a chance." "Did you want me to see your armor and be impressed?" Endar asked, amused. The knight's reddening face said yes, but his mouth said "Of course not. I truly wear this armor for protection." "Of course you do." "When armed, a Knight of the Thorn can take on any enemy from this world or Oblivion itself." the knight stammered, as if he had something to prove. "Of course you can." "And we know the location of the necromancer den that you seek." "Finally, we reach the point of this meeting." Endar took a seat across from where the knight stood. Between them was a table, and to their left, a fireplace. "You claim that these ruins are near your city. How near?" "Less than half a day's ride, actually." Sir Bremman replied, lowering himself back into his chair and adjusting to sit comfortably in the ridiculously out of place armor. "It is known as Fanacas. Ayleid in origin, but the occupants have changed out a hundred times or more these last couple centuries alone. I cannot promise you that this, 'Rythe Orealo' is the leader with complete certainty. But these are the only ones we know of in the region, and indeed the earliest reports of their arrival coincide with the time at which magical crystals began circulating in the local markets. Mages in particular seem eager to buy them up at the prices they're offered at." "This sounds promising. Have the necromancers created issues for the county?" "None that we have recognized. People go missing every now and then, sure, but no signs point to the ruins. If they did, the Knights of the Thorn would take quick action to bring the monsters to justice. As it is, their presence so close to our lands already puts them on thin ice." Thin ice that is too cold for you. Endar thought. No doubt any 'signs' pointing to the ruins are quickly dismissed in favor of safer threats to tackle. "How close are the men of your order willing to go to this ruin?" "We'd investigate more closely ourselves if it were within the bounds that we patrol." said the knight. "Unfortunately, it sits less than a mile outside of our jurisdiction, at the base of the Valus Mountain range. If you still intend to approach it, we can lead you close enough to see the exterior yourself." "How very noble of you. You serve the Empire in ways you cannot know." "Of course." Sir Bremman said with a slight bow. "Anything to help strengthen the bonds between our beautiful city and this great Empire. It is good that the noblest and strongest of alliances still remain, even during these trying times." "Right, right." Endar rolled his eyes. The way this man spoke annoyed him. His gallantry felt faker than a beggar's absent children. "Tell your leader to expect a visit before too long. Your assistance will be welcome."

Akamon "Hawk-Eye" Skaven, Hammerfell Morning The next morning Akamon awoke refreshed and rejuvenated. For first time in awhile, he didn't dream of Elqwinwe. Whether that was a good sign or not, he wasn't sure, but he had to find her no matter what. Getting up from the bedroll, Akamon dressed himself in a simple out fit that consisted of a fine linen top and bottoms with a white silk over coat that acted as a robe of sorts. Buckling his scimitar on his left hip and his silver shortsword on the small of his back, Akamon was easily able to conceal both blades from plain sight unless he willingly revealed them himself. Sliding open the screen door to his room, Akamon walked to the main room of the inn and was greeted by the hostess from last night. Bowing, she lifted her head and smiling kindly asked,"I hope you slept well Ansei?" Placing his right hand over his heart, Akamon returned the bow with a slight nod and replied warmly. "I did. If I ever have to stay in Skaven again I will make sure to come here again. Your hospitality is should not be under appreciated. By they way did a high elf woman ever stay here at all in the past 10 years?" The hostess was quite perplexed with Akamon's question. Fidgeting, the Redguard woman shook her head. "I don't believe so sir. Well we get all kinds of patrons so it would be extremely difficult to remember a particular one. What is this woman's name if I may ask?" Akamon almost facepalmed his forehead in realization. Of course they wouldn't remember a specific patron in the past ten years. How shortsighted of me. It seems the only place where Elqwinwe would've have gone in Skaven would be the Crystal District. That is the most likely place. Halfheartedly laughing, Akamon exclaimed, "I apologize for asking a ridiculous question. I'm just trying to find her and it's been a while. Again I apologize." Quickly walking out of the inn, Akamon was met by the bright light of the sun. Skaven was a bustling city. People moved to and fro like the waves of an ocean. As he was walking through the Merchant District, tons of people were bartering back and forth. Not surprisingly a lot of the merchants were Khajiits, Imperials, and High Elves. One Khajiit in particular was being harassed by what looked like some thugs. They were all dressed rather scantly, one of them even had a dagger and was threatening the merchant. "How many times do we have to say it again?! Huh!! Give us our cut and we'll leave you alone!" The one with the dagger pressed the blade against the Khajiit's throat. "Ple- please stop!! J'virr hasn't been doing that well this past week, so J'virr does not the have the gold that you want!!" One of the of the other thugs, a rather skinny looking Redguard came up and punched the Khajiit straight in the gut, drawing blood and making the poor merchant fall to his knees, clutching his stomach. Akamon saw enough walking over to the scene he addressed all of them. "So you pick on a merchant who obviously has no money to spare and harass him for it? Pathetic." The group of thugs turned around and locked eyes with Akamon. The leader of the thugs step forward in a rather aggressive stance and yelled, "This ain't none of your business, so get out of here. Unless you want som-", the thug had no time react when Akamon literally within in a split second speed blitzed the thug and was literally a few inches from the ruffian. The thug backed away as did his buddies. Seeing how fast Akamon was, they didn't want to try their chances, and quickly left. Kneeling down Akamon gently put his hands on the Khajiit's shoulders and asked,"Are you ok?" The Khajiiti merchant looked up at Akamon and quickly nodded. Akamon helped the Khajiit up and let the merchant sit down on some wooden crates. Akamon asked, "Does that happen often?" The Khajiit nodded and replied, "Yes. This one thanks you for helping J'virr. Thugs harass J'virr every Fredas for money, but J'virr doesn't make that much. Only enough to buy food for J'virr and rent a room at the local inn." Akamon nodded sympathetically. "Tell me do you have a good memory?" The Khajiit looked up at Akamon with confusion on his face, but then he flashed his teeth, in what Akamon would assume was a smile. The Khajiit recuperating from his ordeal got up from the crate he was sitting on and answered. "Yes, J'virr does have a good memory. He remembers odd and interesting people who walk through the market district every day. Does this one have a question for J'virr?" "Yes. I'm looking for a High Elf woman. She has golden eyes and dark brown hair. Very beautiful, but dressed like a commoner. She might have com through here about 8 years ago. If you can't remember, I understand." The Khajiit played with his gold earrings on his ears and his tail twitched for a few seconds. "Sorry but J'virr does not remember one such person. J'virr however does recommend that this one go to the Crystal District. That might where the golden woman might be." The Khajiit positioned himself behind his stall. Before his went about his job, the Khajiit looked at Akamon and bowed saying, "J'virr will always be grateful for this one. If J'virr and this one ever meet again, J'virr will treat this one to a drink at the inn. May you walk on warm sands, Saint of the Sword." Akamon bowed slightly and before leaving the merchant Akamon added, "The name is Akamon J'virr. I hope we meet again some day." **************************** The Crystal District is the home of the very large Altmer population in Hammerfell. The other such District is in Sentinel, the capital of Hammerfell. The building designs were definitely a stark contrast to the somewhat rugged look of the Redguard like architecture, more elegant and free flowing in design, but yet also hiding a hidden strength, built to withstand time, like the people that live in them. Since it's been nearly two hundred years since the massive swath of Altmer refugees fled to Hammerfell from the persecution of the Thalmor, the Crystal District looked as if it was always a part of Skaven. The Altmer living here have built a good life for themselves. Altmer children played in the street throwing what looked like balls of light at one another, dodging and return the shots. Man even at such a young age, to have such a grasp on magic is astonishing. The Altmer children looked upon Akamon and waved at him grinning happily. Smiling back he waved at them to. Just then an older Altmer woman came out and scolded the children for playing with magic. Seeing this as his chance, Akamon walked over and bowed to the Altmer woman. "Good evening ma'am. My name is Akamon and I was wondering if you could answer some my questions." The Altmer woman brushed her robes and bowed back and used her hands to shoo the children, one of them a young boy shot a ball of light at the woman but she quickly snapped her fingers and the light disappeared. Sticking his tongue out, the young boy ran away and caught up with his friends. The Altmer woman brought her attention back to Akamon and said,"Good evening Ansei. Before you say anything yes I knew you were an Ansei. Your type always holds themselves with such dignity and respect it's not hard to spot you or any of your order. What was the question you wanted to ask young Akamon? Oh my apologies I forgot to introduce myself my name is Valerie." "Thank you Valerie. Has a young Altmer woman by the name of Elqwinwe passed through here? I've been asking around and everybody said that the Crystal District would be my best bet. She would have came through here about 8 years ago." The Altmer woman pursed her lips and closed her eyes. Then suddenly opened them and said, "That name does sound familiar. Linwe mentioned that name before, something about her parents. Oh I'm sorry you're new here. Linwe is the local alchemist here in the Crystal District. Head down this road and then take a right and you'll see a sign that reads Linwe's Concoctions. I hope that helps, Ansei Akamon. If you'll excuse me, I have to hunt down the rascal of a great-grandson." The Altmer woman then sped off in the direction of the band of the young Altmer children. Following Valerie's directions, Akamon found the store she described. The sign read Linwe's Concoctions. Opening the door, the smell of pungent herbs and potions hit Akamon's nostrils. Various bottles of potions were on shelves throughout the entire store. Then a faint voice reached Akamon's ears. "Just give me minute. I'll be right there." After a couple of minutes a healthy looking Atlmer came strolling down the stairs at graceful pace. Upon seeing Akamon seeing the Redguard, Linwe smiled and said, "Welcome to Linwe's Concoctions. Did you come here to browse my creations? I've got all types of potions, pleas take your time and look around." Akamon walked over to the counter and rested his arms. Leaning in, he said the alchemist, "Actually I'm here because a woman named Valerie told me you have some information on someone I'm trying to track down." Linwe stopped his work and turned around to look Akamon in the eyes. "Is that so? Valerie is always caught up on the latest rumors. Huh, who new at 435 someone can still act like they're an adolescent, haha." Linwe then burst out laughing at his own joke. The Altmer then turned around and then went back to work. "So who is this person you're looking for?" Linwe quietly kept working his mortar and pestle "Elqwinwe. Valerie said you talked about her parents." The faint mashing and soft thud of the mortar and pestle stopped. The alchemist brushed his apron hesitantly, before turning around to to face Akamon. Walking over to the counter, the Altmer stopped right in front of Akamon and asked,"And how do you know of Elenya's child?" Akamon smiled slightly, before composing himself and stated,"We grew up together in a village west of Skaven called Divad's Calling. She was my childhood friend up until I was 14, when I left my village to become an Ansei. When I was 22 and performing my Walk About, my village was ransacked by the Thalmor. At the time I thought she died with the rest of my village, but I found recent evidence in her parents store that suggests that she fled and came here to Skaven." Akamon reached inside his tunic and pulled out Elenya's journal and slid it across the counter towards Linwe. The alchemist carefully took the book and opened it. "Read the last journal entry." Linwe merely glanced at Akamon before opening the journal. He quickly flipped the pages to the last entry and skimmed the page. Done reading it Linwe, sighed. Closing the journal he slid across the desk back to Akamon, who took the journal and put inside his small leather pouch. Before Akamon could speak up, Linwe simply said, "Elqwinwe did not come to Skaven. If she did, she would be here with me. I'm her godfather. Before Elenya and her husband left here to start their business in your village, mind you this was a very long time ago, she said that if anything happened to her in the future they come here to stay with me. She would occasionally send me letters letting me now how things were going. I knew all about her daughter. Around the time you said your village was ransacked by the Thalmor, Auriel curse them, That's when the letters stopped. I was expecting Elqwinwe to come, because in one of Elenya's letters, she stated that if anything dangerous happened to them, she wanted her daughter to come and stay with me. As you can already infer, Elqwinwe never came. After about 2 years, I assumed that the worst happened." Akamon was hit hard by this new found revelation. He couldn't believe it. He was so sure that she would be here. He started to clench his fists. Tears were already running down his cheeks. Before he could fall completely into despair, a golden hand placed itself on Akamon's shoulders. Looking teary eyed, Linwe with a stern gaze, spoke to Akamon what he would say would ignite a spark of hope and determination within the Ansei. "Elenya once spoke of some relatives in High Rock, but I'm not sure exactly where they live. If you still truly believe that she is still alive, that is where you should start looking." Akamon wiped his tears away quickly before saying,"Thank you Linwe. I will make sure find her not just for my sake, but yours as well, and I will bring her back here so you can finally meet her face to face." Adjusting his overcoat, relaxed for second before adding,"I guess it's a sight to behold. A mighty Ansei crying. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I chosen not to go with Lashana. I could've have become a farmer like my father. Who knows I would've most likely married Elqwinwe. Sometimes I think myself a fool for choosing the life of a Sword Saint." Linwe casually said while working with his alchemy station,"You would've died too you know. Life has a way of screwing us over sometimes. Just remember if there is anyone who can find Elqwinwe, it's you. The person who cares for her. If I was younger, I would go with you, but I'm getting too old for that kind stuff." Turning around, Linwe winked at Akamon and said,"Never doubt yourself Ansei Akamon. Farewell." Akamon bowed and said, "Farewell", also and exited the shop. Walking back into the opening square he turned around to look at the sunset. The start of a quest to find his childhood friend and love would begin tomorrow. High Rock huh. That's gonna be a challenge. I wouldn't even know the first place to look there. Wait a minute. Falion LaRouche is from High Rock and a noble too. If I can convince him, he might be the person to help me. I'll make sure to talk to him tonight. Mood Music. "So... I finally found you at last." Akamon turned around to see three armored knights. The one in the middle of the group was none than Astius Crex, the Imperial knight that Akamon defeated in a duel 7 years ago. "I'm surprised to see you skulking in the Crystal District." Smiling from underneath his straw hat, Akamon responded jokingly,"So now you show up. Finally found your balls to approach me directly? I eagerly awaited another request from your order but no word came; so I thought you learned your lesson or was kicked out of your order." Bringing his head up, Akamon smiled,"I'm glad to see I was wrong." With a slight arm movement, Akamon brushed away the outer tunic and revealed the hilt of his sword. Astius cracked his neck, smiling as he did so. Drawing his steel longsword, Astius nodded to both of his amored companions; who in unison, drew their swords as well. Stepping forward, Astius threw back his head sweeping the hair out of his face while exclaiming,"I will defeat you this time Akamon. While you have been becoming complacent in your Hall, I have been training relentlessly for these past 7 years. Now it's time to see if my labor has bared any fruits." Akamon didn't say word. Using his left thumb, Akamon flicked it pushing the sword blade out from it's locked position in the scabbard. Lowering his head, so Astius could only see his mouth, the former Ansei smirked mischievously. This agitated Astius even more. Spitting on the ground, Astius said,"This is to the death. I've already paid off the guards. So they won't be bothering us." Astius gestured with his off hand to both of his companions; sheathing their swords, they stepped back from the Imperial. Akamon with a blank look on his spoke to Astius."You intend on going through with this are you?" "By Talos I do!" "Hmph, very well." In one swift and graceful movement Akamon drew his scimitar and brought it to a low guard position with his left hand resting on the bottom of the hilt and the sword pointing towards the ground at a 45 degree angle. "Don't disappoint me." Mood Music. "I'll shut that mouth of yours once and for all!" To Akamon's surprise the Imperial rushed him head on. Still hasn't learned at all. With patience and anticipation, Akamon waited for the knight to come in his guard. Now. Astius swung his blade horizontally at Akamon's head hoping to cleave in half, when he was thrown off guard when he noticed the sword in Akamon's hand disappeared, then in the blink of an eye Astius was met with a sword point within a few inches of his face. Swinging erratically, Astius backed off breathing heavily. Akamon brought his scimitar into the low guard position again and waited for the next attack. "Heeah!" Astius recovering from near shock of almost having his head impaled, rushed Akamon once more with this time using an upward cut to dismember the Redguard. Akamon shifting his weight, easily avoided the swing, and was then met by another horizontal strike aimed his head to which Akamon slightly bent his knees and then using superior footwork to that of Astius, circled around the Imperial and came down with a swift strike aimed at Astius' right shoulder. Astius was again astonished by the Redguards skill. The Ansei didn't even try to deflect or counter his strikes, he was merely avoiding them, almost effortlessly. Then Akamon flanked the Imperial and without thinking turned around at the last second only to bring his sword up to block an overhead strike. The force of the blow made Astius bend his knees. What strength! Quickly backing away, Astius didn't how approach the situation. He's so fast and agile, on top of that his strikes are blindingly fast and have amazing force behind them. Is this what I have to show for my training? Akamon bringing his sword down to the low guard, Akamon spoke to the Imperial. "You seem to rely solely on instinct and reflex, which show your limits. In the Way of the Sword, you must use your intelligence." Astius forgot all about his predicament, and retorted back at the Redguard,"Quit mocking me!" Again rushing the Redguard, this time Astius aimed low for Akamon's legs, when the Ansei disappeared, then like an apparition appeared behind the Imperial, then reappeared in front of him. This time Astius seized the moment and swung downward at Akamon's head only to seemingly slip through the Redguard as if he was ghost. Akamon used this feint to reappear behind the knight. Wiping the blood off his scimitar with a flick of his wrist Akamon brought the scimitar to it's sheathe and as he did so, Astius upper body gushed forth fountains of blood. dropping to his knees, Astius said gurgling blood,"I guess the tree withered before it fruit bore", then dropped face first dead, in the streets of Skaven in a pool of his own blood.

Tacitus Meridius Imperial Palace Afternoon The High Admiral’s day of ignoring his paperwork and shirking duties came to a grinding halt when someone knocked loudly at his door. Tacitus ignored it for several minutes. He’d already dismissed his assistant for the day as well, but now he wished the soft, pushover of a young man was still here. Tacitus knew he could scare him into shutting up whoever was still banging on the door. Instead he rose, his face twisting into a scowl of annoyance. As the door swung open, the gaudily dressed Colovian stepped in without an invitation. His robe was the color of carrot, with a sash of yellow across the red tunic. The man’s dress looked like a blind man’s painting of a sunset, described to him by a lackwit. His hair was a pale yellow, like wet straw, and it swooped over on one side of his head while the other was nearly shaved. His trimmed, thin beard did nothing to hide his weak chin, and his sunken eyes looked like the empty sockets of a skeleton, his skin an equally pale complexion. Two seconds look told Tacitus the man was likely a drug addict of some kind, or an extreme shut in. His swagger and off-putting manner lent itself more towards the drugs than simply staying indoors. He seemed to type to talk incessantly and party constantly. “Who’re you?†Tacitus said, his face scrunching into an even more irritated visage. The man flashed a smile and bowed. “Elder Councilor Lerexus Censoria, at your service High Admiral.†“Why are you here?†Tacitus gave the man his back, going and sitting back behind his desk, on which he propped his knee-high black leather boots. Councilor Censoria ignored the question, and took his own seat, his smile fading as he did. “I understand you supported retribution against High Rock.†“So.†“Precisely the point. The Bretons and Nibenese both oppose intervention, and you upset a few members by advocating for it. We support it, and your idea for secret raiding.†“You should, because those dandies need a little ass kicking.†“Right, well, you made some enemies. Watch your back, High Admiral, because they seek to sink you.†Tacitus glared at the man. “You damn, smug politicians. Always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I don’t need your advice, and don’t want it either. Go **** yourself.†Censoria made a disappointed sound. “Mr. High Admiral, is that any way to speak to a friend? All we want is to help you, to further our mutual goals. But I warn you, we don’t take kindly to insults.†“How’s this for an insult: take that a sword and shove it up your ass. If I want your help, I’ll ask. Until then, unless its work related, get out. You know where the door is.†Tacitus watched the man shake his head, in such a pompous manner it made the sailor want to punch the man. Instead, once the man left, the admiral slugged the wall with his Dwarven metal fist. He didn’t expect the explosion, which sent him crashing into the opposite wall. A few guards came rushing in, swords drawn and looking for what they assumed was a mage assassin. “Put your weapons away. It was just an accident,†Tacitus said, shoving past them and marching out into the hall. There he climbed down the stairs a ways, then went into a different tower and climbed those steps. He found the door he was looking for, and didn’t hesitate to open it. Endar would just have to set some time aside to fix whatever had just happened to the enchanted fist. He was immediately met by a sight that would've been out of the ordinary for any other room in the palace. Endar's assistant stood across from a table at the far end of the room. On it were what appeared to be a clean elven skull, and a multitude of tools and stones sprawled out amidst some dead foliage. She was currently holding some sort of black rod into the skull's eye socket, and was carefully rotating it. Elara looked up when Tacitus closed the door. "Mr. Drenim, guest!" She gestured at the rod with her left hand as if to say that she couldn't stop, and then smiled at him. "Hello, Admiral." Caught off guard by the strange expirement, Tacitus at first wasn't aware someone had spoken to him. It took him a moment to come to terms with the scene, but he did eventually. Looking around the room, he said, "Uh, yes, hello Elara. Where is Drenim? My fist seems broken. The metal one." A door to the left of Elara opened, and Endar appeared. As usual, he wore his red and gold robes that apparently were of the Telvanni or something. They were so faded and travel-worn that whatever exquisiteness they were intended to display was lost. "Did you say that it was broken?" The Dunmer rushed over to Tacitius's side and took the fist in his hand without bothering to ask permission, holding it up for inspection. "I had feared this. It's a wonder you survived, really. A good wonder, of course. Your death would be most inconvenient- Elara!" "What?" He let Tacitus's hand drop and turned to look at her. "I need you to fetch me a Dwemer seal breaker and a black soul gem." She frowned and waved her left hand at the work in front of her. "You told me no stopping until it wouldn't turn anymore." "And you're doing it by hand? You'll be standing there all day! Why aren't you using the telekinesis spell I taught you?" "You never taught me a telekinesis spell." "Are you certain? ... Huh." The wizard shrugged. "I'm sure I taught one of my stewards that spell. No matter." He muttered some words, waved his hand and flashed some red lights. When Elara's hand left the black rod, it continued to rotate inside the elven skull without her. "Now go fetch what I need." As she headed into the back room, Endar turned back to Tacitus and grabbed the gauntlet again. "Would it hurt you if I removed it?" Tacitus pulled the fist back towards his body, frowning as he did. He eyes followed Elara momentarily as she left, until he addressed Endar. "The fist, or the entire gauntlet?" "Just the fist. I can fix it so that this won't happen again. Probably. Hopefully. But I doubt you'd want to sit in here and wait while I do. You'd be in close proximity to a few spells that could produce many sparks, and without the proper wards, I fear it could singe the beard you've been growing. Or your skin, muscles, and bones. I haven't actually done this before." Tacitus set about unscrewing it, then gave it to the wizard. "Fine. Take it. But I don't want it back unless it's fixed. Use your fancy spells to shock it or what have you. But it better be truly fixed, not just 'probably' fixed." "Does 'most likely' have a better ring to it?" Endar took the brass fist and set it down on a shelf by the wall. "You should know that even in its current state, this tool is likely worth more than most other trinkets you've ever held. Kings would be fortunate to have such a hand. Amputee kings, that is." "I imagine there are a great many of those kings around. But yes I get the point. It's nice to be able to blow things up with a punch. Thanks. Now just make sure I don't get blown up in the process. And do it quickly. The guards here don't like me having an axe or dagger on my gauntlet, so without the hand I don't get any attachment." "It won't take long." the wizard assured him. Seconds later, Elara reappeared with the items he'd requested, and Endar set to work. He prodded at it with tools and spells, and indeed many sparks of fire and energy spit out and colored the room. Elara came over and stood next to Tacitus. "Did you just discover it was broken?" she asked, looking up at him. She was a Breton of average height, but Tacitus was taller than most of his own people, and it showed now, with the way she looked up at him. Tacitus blinked a few times, as watching the sparks hurt his eyes, and eventually he just turned away, towards Elara. "Yes. I...knocked it on something and it sent me flying backwards. I didn't see it coming at all. I hadn't had any previous issues with it, though this was the first time the effect activated." Elara let out a small laugh. "You knocked it on something. In the palace. Is that something okay?" Tacitus scowled at Elara's laughter, but found himself not really meaning it. "Well, punched might be a better term. I punched the wall. And yes it's fine. Though I flew across the room when I hit it. Damn near busted my head open." "Interesting choice of first target." the stewardess said jokingly. Tacitus noticed that she seemed to enjoy talking quite a lot. "You sail into battle with a flaming hand and don't use it once until you're back here. Can't say I blame you. If I had to choose between fire punching some elf or one or two of the overly smug faces in this place, I'd be tempted to go with the latter too. Shame of it is that you only hit a wall. At least it will probably know better than to cross Admiral Tacitus Meridius in the future." Tacitus' chest puffed out a little, and a smirk traced his lips. "Everyone should know by now not to cross me. I hate this damn place and all the spineless people in it. So pompous and haughty, thinking they know power. Power is taking a man's life and holding it in your hand, not enacting laws and taxes. That's why when I was at sea, I used my axe. Let those elves know I didn't need magic to best them." Elara opened her mouth to respond, but was cut short by a loud crack and a flash of orange light from where Endar worked. The wizard was muttering to himself as the light dimmed down and settled back into the metal fist. She looked back at Tacitus, "I'm just a helper. And before this, I worked an inn. I don't know much about power. But sir, you ask me and I'll tell you that that right there looked a lot like I picture it. Don't you reckon there's different sorts?" Tacitus glared at the wizard, but grudgingly nodded. "I suppose there is. Though there's no power like taking a man's life with a blade. In that moment, you own everything he has. Magic is too impersonal to feel that." "You know, you have more power than you think. He relies on you to get him everything it seems. I can't imagine him going out and trying to buy things." "Ah yes, the power to go out and buy things." Elara mockingly waved her hands as if they contained some power. "May my enemies tremble before it." She chuckled, "I've learned small tricks here and there just from watching him. Magic ones, that is. But it ain't anything like to compare with what you do with your swords." "Show me," Tacitus said. Though he wasn't generally a fan of magic, he knew he'd enjoy Elara's display more than Endar's. "I can make lights." she said, proudly, as she raised her hand and conjured up a small candle of blue-tinted flame. "And I know how to make heavy things feel a little lighter. Master Drenim taught me how to summon a scamp too, but he doesn't like it when I use that one here. And I can cure poisons, heal scrapes, and ward low-level magical effects." "Make things lighter, huh? Do you use that for the heavier boxes?" Tacitus asked, smiling a cheeky grin. She hesitated briefly. "... Maybe." Tacitus squeezed her bicep. "You're telling me you can't lift hundred pound containers by yourself?" Elara didn't resist. Instead she laughed. "Phht! Are you telling me that you think the hundred pound ones are heavy? For it to be spell worthy, the box's gotta be at least... a hundred and ten pounds. Yeah, and not an ounce lighter." "It's the ten extra pounds that really make a difference," Tacitus said. The stewardess opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, Endar's voice called out. "There!" His staff tapped across the floor as he approached and held out the metal fist. "I've dealt with the issue. As it turns out, the harmonic field wasn't recognizing the magicka conversion. I've dealt with it." Tacitus grabbed the fist, but stopped short of screwing it back in. "So it won't explode unless I punch a person, right?" "Not unless you punch him, and you want to blow him up. The device itself was never meant to activate without you specifically willing it to. You don't need to know the infused spells, but your body will still produce the magicka necessary for the fist to cast them." "If it breaks again, I know the next person I'll want to punch and blow up," Tacitus said, as he screwed the fist in place. "Well, I guess I'll, uh, be off then." "Yes, yes, begone then. And remember to record the device's effectiveness when you finally use it." Endar reminded him, his back already turned as he moved off to some project or other. Elara gave a half apologetic smile, presumably for her master's forwardness. "See ya around Admiral." Tacitus started to leave, then turned around abruptly. "Would you like to go get a drink?" "Of course!" Elara nodded fervently. "I mean, yes. Yes, that sounds nice." Tacitus grinned. "Good, that's good. Well, uh, let's go then." Several minutes later, Tacitus and Elara found themselves in a quiet corner of a local pub, called the Sailor's Splinter. It was near the entrance to the Waterfront district, so it wasn't as seedy as those on the docks. Tacitus ordered two ales, and and took a hearty drink of his. "So, Elara, where're you from?" "Skingrad." Elara answered as she drank. "My father ran an inn there, and I worked the tavern most of my life. And you? You don't strike me as a Heartlander." "Bravil, Nibenese through and through. My father was a merchant captain. They're in Bruma now, after that whole skooma incident. Did you like working a tavern?" Tacitus took another drink, then motioned for a refill. "Eh, it was alright I guess. Taverns do well in Skingrad, thanks to the vineyards, but Pa got most of that. It was all too boring for me. That's why I left with Master Drenim when he stopped by. Overall, I don't miss it." "From a tavern to the Imperial Palace, not a bad jump. If you would've asked me a year ago, I would've been happy to be there too. Now I can't wait to leave. Damn palace is more deadly than any sea I've ever sailed. And I got attacked by a sea serpent." "A sea serpent?" Elara's eyes lit up in amazement. "You can't just stop at that! What happened? Did you kill it?" Tacitus laughed, and took a long drink, hoping to build the anticipation. "Ah. Good ale, this. Oh, the sea serpent. I'm surprised you didn't hear. We'd been out of Leyawiin for a week, scouring the waters south of there for Dominion ships. We found one, but instead of running away from us, it sailed towards us. An escort ship followed it, but as we watched, Crack! it went down. We had no idea what happened. Next went down the Dominion merchant ship, and that's when we saw it. We turned north, but the wind was against us, so I drove our ships towards the Elsweyr shore, hoping it was too large to swim in the shallows. It didn't work. It bit me, here," Tacitus pulled up his trouser leg, showing the large scar running on his left calf. "I flew into the water, though, and woke up on the shore." "It sank three ships?" She looked awestruck. "How big was the beast?" Tacitus leaned back in his chair. "As long as our two largest ships combined. And it took another down before my men killed it. By then, I was already on shore. A Khajiit found me, made sure I survived. Then the Thalmor came, and killed him. They took me to Valenwood, and that's where I lost my hand." "I'd heard that much." Elara said, before taking another long drink. She wiped her mouth on a sleeve and continued. "About Valenwood and your hand, that is. It must've been some Khajiit to help you like that. I've always heard they hate us down there." Tacitus shrugged. "He could've been looking to cash in by handing me over alive, then hid me so he'd get some coin out of the deal. All I know is he saved my life." "So," Tacitus said, finishing off his ale and motioning for a third, "what sort of exciting tales do you have?" "No sea monsters. I'm not that exciting. But working for a wizard does make for interesting times. Back in County Kvatch he once tasked me with catching him a live troll. I never managed to find one, but while looking, I did stumble across a nest of imps. Three of 'em there were, and they'd have fried me good if not for the scrolls I brought. I managed to stun the and even brought one back to Master Drenim for studies. I don't know what he ended up doing with the little bugger." "He tasked you with catching a troll? Why not ask for a dragon while he's at it! I don't know that I could kill a troll, much less capture one and bring it in. I swear, that mage is strange." "Oh, it wasn't as dangerous as you'd think. That scroll I used on the imps was one of several he left for me to get the job done with. One of them was a dominate scroll. And I had plenty of protection spells to lower the risk. Though I won't argue with you. He is a strange one." "What's the strangest thing he's ever done since you started working for him?" "Oh, now that's a hard question." Elara drummed her fingers on the wooden countertop as she thought. "Most of the really odd things took place in Kvatch. Here, he just sticks to a handful of the same experiments... Let me think... probably his training of Count Brutus over there. All the experiments tend to run together, but that man was odd even without Master Drenim turning him into an expert in harvesting hallucinogenics from Daedric bug creatures." "Daedric bugs definitely rivals sea monster in the weird category." Tacitus took another drink before continuing. "Well, what do you do when you aren't wrestling trolls?" Elara laughed. "Nothing special, really. I don't know where the money comes from, but Endar tends to pay well. So when I'm not working, things are pretty easy. The city's beautiful once you get past some of the people, and I like to explore it when I've got the free time. Lately I've been trying to learn the flute. Though I'm not very good at all." Elara paused herself to take another drink. After she finished the mug, she slid it away and leaned an elbow on the table with her eyes on Tacitus. "What about you, Admiral? I can't imagine sea serpents are an everyday thing in the Imperial City. What does the mighty sailor do when he's so far away from the sea?" Tacitus stared back, and gave a half-smile. "I used to box, but I haven't in a while. Nowadays, I go to the Arena. Bet on the matches, or just watch. Mostly, though, I just wish for the feeling of a deck beneath my boots. I'm one of those sailors that feels uncomfortable when I'm on land." "I can't say that I've ever been off it." Elara admitted. "So I can only imagine. But there's no roads or cities to stick to. No guards or Counts. You have the whole ocean beneath you and the stars to guide you. I've always imagined it would be oddly free for just a deck and some quarters." She chuckled playfully. "Am I close? Or is the city girl too caught up in the adventure stories she's read?" That's how it was, Tacitus thought, but now I only want to be out there to kill those vermin. Do I long for the sea, or the kill? As Tacitus took a drink to clear his mind, he adjusted his legs beneath the table, and one of them brushed Elara's. He let it linger there, savoring the closeness. "Those same stories are what I was raised on, and made me become a sailor. Sailing is exactly as you describe." "Then it sounds worth it." she said, not fighting his advance. "I think a little discomfort on land is a fair trade for that sort of freedom." "I guess you're right. The sooner this war starts, the sooner I get that freedom. And the sooner more Dominion ships litter the sea bed," Tacitus said. "I'd drink to that image." Elara thumped her empty mug and grinned. She did a lot of grinning, Tacitus noticed. "I don't know how you and Master Dremin aren't better friends, with your mutual hated for their type and whatnot." Tacitus arched an eyebrow. "He hates the Dominion? Well, that's news to me. If that's the case, he isn't too vocal about it. Though it makes me less annoyed at him, now. Why does he hate them?" Tacitus finished off his drink, then motioned for another for both he and Elara. "Something about past dealings." she said, nodding in thanks as the barkeep refilled her mug. "He always acts just a little different when they're brought up. Me, I think he sees them as rivals or something. I've never seen him as excited as when you brought him those sun bird designs and gave him a chance to counter theirs." Tacitus recalled Endar telling him of his brief imprisonment, but didn’t mention it to Elara. As usual when dealing with the mage, he mostly ignored what he said. "I may have been to harsh. Not likely, though. It's hard to be around him too long without your intelligence being insulted." "Him and every other Dunmer from Morrowind." Elara grabbed her mug. "Anyway, enough about my boss. I shouldn't have brought him up. What do you say we finish our drinks and make our way out of here?" Tacitus raised his eyebrows. He liked that Elara was forward. "If you insist, troll wrestler." They finished off the last of their ale, then made their way outside. It was dark, no traces of violet or orange from the long gone sun. "Would you like to go back to my place?" Tacitus asked. Elara's brow raised, but the corners of her lips twisted up. "Lead the way, Admiral." It was a long walk back to Tacitus' apartment, which was in the Elven Gardens district, but near the Market district entrance. Though it was late, the city still teemed with citizens. Some stumbled around drunk, while others laughed heartily with their friends. "It's nice tonight, isn't it?" Tacitus asked. "It is." she agreed with a nod up at the moons. Masser and Secunda sat almost perfectly atop the White Gold Tower, dominating the sky. "Bright too." Tacitus wanted to reach out and grab her hand, but he was on the wrong side, his brass fist between he and her. The thought of his flaw made his cheeks burn hot, but luckily the moons were not quite bright enough, and it escaped Elara's notice. Instead, he too looked up at the tower, feeling slightly dizzy from the ale as he did. "They are. Funny, the palace doesn't look like a hellhole from here." She laughed at that. "When you first brought us here I thought it was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. There are some characters inside for sure, but looking at it from out here, I don't think my mind has changed. I mean look at it! It's taller than a mountain! How could anyone have managed to build a place like that?" "I've always though it looked like a ship's mast myself. Can't imagine how big the ship would that had a mast that size, though." They'd made it to the Elven Gardens District, with Tacitus' house not far away. He found his right hand felt clammy, and his heart seemed to beat fast. Internally he cursed himself, for getting nervous around a woman, especially after all he'd been through. Then, his mind wandered to Silana, his cheeks again burning red. She's in Anvil, you wimp. And she's a whore, she was acting. She probably acts like that with everyone. Finally, they came upon his door, and he pushed the thoughts aside. "I apologize for the mess," he said, leading Elara inside. The living room was small, with clothes thrown over the chairs and tables. "Believe me, I've seen worse." Elara was looking at a fine steel axe he had mounted on the wall. "What's the story behind this?" Tacitus looked at the axe, almost forgetting it was there. "Can you keep a secret?" "Well I'm working for a mage on his top secret projects that I'd be 'incinerated' for letting even the barest whisper of slip, sooo... yeah. I can keep a secret." Elara grinned, "And now that you've gone and built it up, spill it." Tacitus moved a shirt from the bench directly across from his fireplace. Elara took a seat as well, and he began his story. "You know I was captured by the Thalmor. And I'm sure you heard I escaped with the help of a Bosmer dissident. But that isn't the truth. They let me go." Her brow raised, and Tacitus could see the humor in her eyes replace itself with a look of genuine concern. "Let you go? Why would they do that?" Tacitus looked at the axe, admiring the simple, yet graceful carving on the head itself. He wondered what this Red-Snow was like, and what he'd done to make an enemy of Corio. "I'm not sure. That axe had something to do with it, though. Their general made me swear I'd give it to the Nord's High General, but that can't be it. Maybe he was arrogant, thinking I'd die along the way." "So he just sent you out? Like with a pat on the head and an axe to deliver?" She frowned. "Sometimes when Endar summons a Daedra, it'll be wild and destructive. It'll scream and break tables and burn carpets, and it won't stop until he uses the right spells to calm it down. The creature breaks, and it's his. After that he'll turn his back to it and never look its way again. He trusts the creature to remain complacent and do as he commands. It seems like this general thought he broke you." She gave a soft smile. "He must've been an idiot." The idea he'd been 'tamed' by some Altmer general startled Tacitus, though he forced out a smile to conceal it. But he couldn't shake how uneasy it made him feel. Am I broken? Was the sunbird attack a play into their hands? With these thoughts ringing in his head, Tacitus did the only thing he could to push them out. Suddenly, almost violently, he pulled Elara towards him, their lips locking together in quick, unexpectedly passionate kissing. She seemed to resist, but only for the briefest of moments. Once she began kissing him back, all thoughts of Corio and the Thalmor dissipated, but something else seemed to take their place. His eyes closed, he found images of Silana dancing through his mind. The bronze skinned seductress closed her eyes and bit her lip, saying his name between ragged, excited breaths. It was then he realized Elara was also saying his name, rather boring in comparison to Silana. Tacitus broke away, standing up and turning his back to Elara. It was then he noticed his shirt was off, tossed to the floor while they'd been kissing. Elara came up behind him, oblivious to his withdrawn manner. She put her arms around his waist, her fingers working to untie the strings of his trousers. He turned back around, this time wanting to shake not the thoughts of the Thalmor from his head, but those of Silana as well. He lifted Elara in the air, her legs wrapping around his waist as they began to kiss again. But it seemed so lifeless and tame, so she began to kiss him with more vigor, bitting at his neck and shoulders. He did so in turn, briefly, but felt nothing. Tacitus set her down and pushed her away, finally giving in to his feelings of guilt. Elara, whether in passion or ignorance, tried to kiss him again, while gripping him in the front with her hand. Tacitus' guilt and the drinks controlled his next action. Truly angry with himself, for abandoning Silana in that dockside whorehouse, he shoved Elara away, more forceful than he should have. She stumbled backward, but tripped over the edge of the bench, and hit the wall hard enough to draw blood. She gave a small yelp, but Tacitus ignored it, barking, "Get out. Get out!" When she did, he slumped against the wall, his head between his hands, wondering why he could not be happy for more than a few moments at a time.

Albecias Plebo West Weald Midday Albecias watched as the West Weald countryside unfolded before him. Vineyards and tomato farms covered most of the ground, the rich soil yielding Cyrodiil's finest produce. But, just across the Strid River, the greatest danger to mankind lurked. The writer wondered how these farmers and plantation workers could stand being so close to the front lines of the next Great War, but his question was soon answered. The carriage rumbled down a dirt road, and as it rounded a bend, through the window Albecias saw Fort Istirus. The central drum tower gave imposing views of the surrounding land, and likely into Valenwood as well. Its walls had been rebuilt, and it now served as the 9th legion headquarters. Past the fort were the defenses right on the river. Catapults lined the shore, like animals gone to sate their thirst. They were protected by abatis, or sharpened wooden stakes driven into the ground. Guards stood by them, ready to launch the first barrage should the war suddenly begin. Albecias' blood chilled, as the thought of being here when the war started sent shivers down his spine. He'd been sure to pay the fee to avoid the draft, and would readily do so again. The carriage drove into the fort's courtyard, where soldiers sparred, a blacksmith hammered out sword and horseshoes, and archers practiced at straw dummies. An officer of some kind was waiting for Albecias. The writer swept the bangs of his auburn hair from his fair face, and the soldier greeted him as he dismounted the carriage. "Mr. Plebo. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to the General's quarters," the thirty something Imperial said. He was clad in studded leather armor, his helmet tucked beneath one arm, the other gripping his sword's pommel. "Lead the way," Albecias said, straightening out his blue collared shirt. They set off into the keep, which was a rectangular hall attached to the central tower. The stairs were immediately to the left, so Albecias didn't get a chance to inspect the lower floor, nor did he see anything else beside the winding staircase that finally halted at the top floor. There, the officer opened a heavy wooden door, and Albecias walked in alone. "I was surprised at your response, General Retrius. I expected some vehemence towards Snow-Strider, but you surpassed even that. I am glad you agreed to meet in person, I have a great many questions for you," Albecias said. "Yes, well," Standing up from his desk, his arms behind his back, Retrius stood forward to greet Albecias, though he didn't offer his hand. Retrius was in surprisingly simple attire for a general. Basic chainmail and wool like that of a messenger. From his smell, it was evident that he was riding on horseback for quite some time. Eyes on Albecias with a look that could have been either anger or his natural look, he said, "The idea that my stance is surprising... that is troubling, to me. I will have your questions, and I will answer them to the extent of what I am able. Then I must have you on your way, I have more inspections to make along the border." Albecias took a seat, though none was offered. It wasn't reasonable to write standing up, he thought. He brought out a wooden slab, set it on his legs, and produced his paper and pen. Beginning, he said, "That you dislike the court mage is evident. I would like to know why." "That's simple. What do you know of this Skjari?" asked Retrius. Albecias looked up from the paper, and cleared his throat before he began. "He mentored the Empress in Skyrim after teaching or studying at the Synod. Some rumors I've heard say he helped with the alliance. Then he came back with her, was court mage for a short time, and now they are to be married. He also solved the problems plaguing the Niben." "And does that sound like a man with the credentials to be an Emperor to you? A Nord mage with rumors and heresay covering his origins? A man who supposedly mentored our Empress and is now marrying her? It's all too convenient. And so is the timing. At the time. Before, my complaint was that all he did was talk and screw, but I can't deny the good he's finally done to show some worth... but, why are we settling for this, court mage? We have someone proven capable already, who is actually familiar with how things work around here, someone who is loved and respected by the people and the council. And even this Nord general in Skyrim. And speaking of Nords, it doesn't exactly sit well with me that this Skjari seemed to come into our attention in the land of the Nords, speaking of ancient Nord royal blood coursing through him, as if that means anything to us." Albecias scribbled a few things. "You speak of General Ceno, of course. Lord Snow-Strider did take an unusual path the the throne, and the questions of his competence were well founded, until recently. Still, as you said, the question of his blood should be a non-factor. His land isn't a part of the Empire, though I've heard he does have family in Bruma. But distant royal relations do not an emperor make." "No they don't, but the people won't care about that. And that's the point. They don't care, so long as someone is in charge. But this is dangerous. The Empire... or... the Kingdom of Cyrodiil..." Retrius' expression hardened for a moment, then faded once more. "We are vulnerable in so many ways. We should not let ourselves be lead off by some foreigner like that..." Stopping himself from saying whatever he was about to say, Retrius paused and said, "Now more than ever we need to take caution. Snow-Strider could be anyone, and all we know is that he was somehow tied with our.. young Empress before the war's end." Albecias nodded. He set aside the pen and looked at the general, whose clenched jaw and wooden manner suggested he really was as upset as he said. "Some would say having a Nord shows that, while we aren't truly an Empire, we still embody the accepting nature. But there does seem to be a growing sense that Cyrodiil, free of the provinces, should now look after its own interests. And you don't believe Snow-Strider will do that, do you?" "Accepting nature..." Retrius snickered to himself, deciding to refrain from commenting on what he thought about their acceptance. "No, I do not. This is a man that was willing to manipulate a young woman and take advantage of his relationship as teacher to seize power in this land. Preying on her like a deer in the lion's den. He'll continue that pattern, mark my words. He does not have Cyrodiil's interests in mind, or he wouldn't have waited this long to help her. He intervened out of necessity." Albecias cracked a sly grin. "And yet he's only helped the Empire so far, squashing insurrection and maintaining some semblance of stability. What could his larger goal possibly be? Power perhaps, or maybe establishing a dynasty?" "Clearly," said Retrius. "You may be enjoying the ride now, but generally, power is saught for a purpose. I don't know what, I certainly wouldn't suggest he's working for Thalmor, and I can't see the Stormcloaks having a hand here. All I can say is keep watching. If not soon, then just when we've gotten used to the beast long enough to feel safe. Then, it'll bite you in the arse and hump your mother. The only candidate for Emperor whose intentions would be pure is Ceno. You don't just take strange magelings off the street with questionable origins and throw them on the throne! At least in our good days, Jagar Tharn had to disguise himself! Oh how we have fallen..." "What would you suggest, usurping him?" Albecias put away the paper, pen, and wooden slab. "Is civil war really the best option, in such a fragile time? Could he really be sat aside, and would Ceno be willing to?" Retrius for the first time then wore an expression of defeat. "No. We can't afford another internal struggle... Maybe something could have been done before, but now it is much too late. Our only option would be to convince the people, the Council... Someone has to come forward with information on our 'Lord Skjari'. Someone must know something, perhaps in Skyrim." A spark, a flash of an idea nearly caused Albecias to burst out. But he stayed calm, albeit he did smugly grin. He knew he wouldn't need to write this down, because he would undoubtedly remember it as the moment in which he became truly cognizant. Concealing his epiphany, he asked, "If you wouldn't mind I change the subject, I was wondering what you could tell me of General Lithin. I seem to recall he shares your suspicions and qualms. Would he be willing to talk?" "Lithin? He may. For all the good it'll do. He doesn't know any more than I do, but by all means. The more people speaking against Skjari, especially generals, the better. And we'll do it no matter how popular he gets and no matter the consequences." "You sound confident in your ability to keep your power. Is it because you have friends in high places, or because your men? Just how loyal are they, to you, and to their respective generals?" "What makes you think that?" asked Retrius. "I would say that, generally, people that speak out against the Emperor have shorter life spans than those that stay in line. So with your willingness to speak out, you must feel safe from any harm." "No, not really," said Retrius. "If the White Gold Tower wishes me gone, I will resign. If they want me dead, so be it. If they can afford to keep killing off their generals for speaking up, then fine. I am not actively rebelling. Let it come, and let the people see Skjari truly. But when history retells of these days, they'll have it on record that not every last Imperial rolled over and let the Empire be picked away like a rotting carcass amongst a pack of wolves." "That is very noble of you. Not many would willingly step down, nor accept death were it to come." Albecias paused and thought where he wanted to go with this, finally deciding on a topic likely to induce some strong opinion, one way or the other. "What're your thoughts on the loss of High Rock? I'm sure you know of King Adrard citing the broken marriage pact as one of his grievances. Is that another fault you attribute to Snow-Strider, or is it King Adrard who is at fault here?" Retrius smiled and gave his interviewer a polite laugh. "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I of course attest their leaving to the Empress choosing her mage friend over a truly beneficial pairing for one reason or another. But I do not know the king well, it could have been an excuse. But tell me, do you think it'd make sense for the Breton king to separate if his son sat on the throne?" Albecias shook his head. "Not in any case I can think of. To secede while your son is on the throne would leave him without his biggest ally." "Now," Albecias crossed one leg over the other, and placed his hands on a knee, "most of the Colovians in the Elder Council argued for retaking or enacting retribution against High Rock. Do you agree with them, and if so, why?" His finger tapping impatiently upon his desk, Retrius sighed and said, "The King did give recompense for the dead. And to be honest, I do not blame the man. I'd like to see some recompense as much as the next man, and normally I'd even support it. If we had other provinces... As it stands now though, it seems trite and unecessary, though there is wisdom in reminding the other provinces who still holds the most military might on this side of Tamriel, lest they grow too complacent with slights against Cyrodiil. But in all honesty, we've lost little in their leaving. Not even the name Empire has left us. They all need us. Without us, the Thalmor will march in on their doorsteps and their shores. They are who we should be worrying about now, and is the only reason I tolerate those Nords of Skyrim, Ulfric Stormcloak, Veleda Fire-Hand and their silly High couple, the admiral and general." "Let's stay on the subject of the Nords. I take it you dislike them. Would you care to expand on why?" "Not really, but I'll keep it brief. Ulfric has no experience in Valenwood. Veleda has no experience in Valenwood. Rebec Red-Snow from what I've read has never even been to Cyrodiil and her minstrel husband has only gone as far as Bruma. These are the people leading us in the next Great War? The only real history Skyrim has with Valenwood was when their idiot High King got himself killed by the Wild Hunt, throwing their own Empire into chaos over a petty squabble of who would rule next! Pathetic. But, they are who will be leading us in the war all the same. Luckily for us, who leads is irrelevant, so long as they heed the council of those who know better." Albecias rose, and stretched out a hand. "I apologize if I took up too much of your time, General, but I do truly appreciate the conversation. It is always refreshing to gain insight into how our leaders think. I will let you go and inspect the border, and hopefully keep us all safe." Scooting from atop his desk, Retrius nodded as he took his hand. "It was no bother, I appreciate being given an audience to speak through. Good day to you. Long live Cyrodiil." "Long live Cyrodiil," Albecias echoed. "Actually, I have one more question. Would the other legions support High General Ceno for Emperor if Snow-Strider was ousted?" Retrius answered quickly and without hesitation. "Of course, why wouldn't they? I confess, there may be those who'd seek the throne for themselves, but none of them, including myself, have the love that General Ceno has. Most would likely support him, seeking favor of the new Emperor." Albecias rubbed his chin. "Hmm. Well, thank you again, General. And now I shall be off." The writer left the fort, retracing his steps until was in the courtyard again, wherein he climbed back in the carriage and set off. Though he'd told Retrius this was to be an article, it was a lie. Yes he would mention that there was growing discord between the military and the Emperor, and he might cite Retrius by name, but that was never his purpose. This was an information gathering session, and a particularly successful one at that. Albecias then made his way to Dasek Moor, where General Lithin gave many of the same answers, albeit with more mindfulness in his choice of words, as befitted a man of noble birth. He too advocated for a change of leadership, and though he was originally against Ceno's appointment to High General, he's grown to respect him and would readily support him over Snow-Strider. Though he didn't know anything new about the Emperor, Albecias now had suspicions about just who had sent him on this quest. And that would have monumental implications indeed.

Witchie, Helen Quentas, Dales Moitre Imperial City Evening Helen Quentas offered the spoonful of food to the Empress, make childish noises as she said, "Here comes the ship." Dales, whom looked Forlorn, didn't make a move. Her usual bright blue eyes were dead and lifeless. Her expression was no better, and as blank as a fresh sheet of paper. The young teenager sighed, briefly glancing at the two Occultus guarding the door into the royal bed chamber. She gently took the Empresses hand and said, "Your majesty you need to eat something. Dales didn't make a sound, nor did she move a muscle, staring into the blackness of the void. The door opened and Skjari dragged himself in and sat down in a chair without even giving the a glance. He remained there in silence, resting his forehead on his hand with closed eyes. It was as if he was waiting for them to finish up. Helen cleared her throat, getting up and placing the food on the nightstand. "My lord Snow-Strider. If you would the Empress isn't feeling well, could you visit another time?" "I live here too you know." he answered. "Well her majesty needs her rest..." "She'll get to sleep in tomorrow. Now if you could excuse us." Helen glanced at the Empress with extreme worry, while the Occultus guards saluted and left. With there black armor, and short gladius, they appeared to be Lilly's men, not members of Grey wolf. Helen feebishly said, "Maybe I should stay, I am her hand-maiden after all..." "What's so bad that you should stay?" Nodding her head, and with regret, Helen muttered somthing under her breath, as she left. Unkown to both, the young girl summoned a muffled spell, as well as a spell of confusion around, as she closed the door, and stood there, ear to the door. Dales simply muttered, "Master." Skjari frowned a little in annoyance at the spells, but the attempt made him uneasy enough to cast his own muffle spell over the room. "Yes?" The young girl, uncharacteristically swore. But remembered, she had one more option. She ran as fast as she could down the hallway to her right, her steps muffled by a spell. Empress Moitre muttered, "Why are you here?" "It's evening and this is the bedroom." "I see you sleep." She said with no emotion, "You go before I wake. Nothing more" "Yes, though you're here early." She said no answer, Skjari also remained silent for a moment. "Did you ever try to contact the so called 'false queen'?" he then finally said. "What do you mean? Dales said quietly "Did you know if she rebelled against us or Theodore?" "The Breton ursuper? I was told it was against the rule of the Empire." "You were told. Did you verify it?" "No. I had meet Theodore previously, and knew him slightly from before. I didn't know he had any ill intent." "You rarely do. You'd think an oath would be enough to keep people from stabbing you in the back. Haven't you learnt anything from me?" "I learned nothing!" She said, with her voice suddenly becoming forceful, getting out of her bed Dales pointed a finger at Witchie, "The only thing I learned from you is how many whores to sleep with, a few spells, and the price of arrogance. I am a puppet, you control my strings. Why did you cancel my engagement with Roland? None of this would have happened if you stuck with the plan, instead of your own lust for power!" Skjari quickly stood up from the chair, grabbed Dales by the jaw and pulled her close to him so he could whisper in her ear: "Ever wondered why I know how to bind people's will? Ever wondered why the roof is covered with spirits bound in ice? Ever wondered why I never really pick a side? Ever paid attention to the details? I had hoped you'd learnt caution. I thought you were smarter than this. You disappoint me." he then slowly let go of Dales. "And never speak to me like that again." "I wish you'd never found me." Dales spoke in a low voice, more speaking aloud to herself than anyone. "You'd wish you'd be left with the Thalmor and your father? Without me you'd still be whoring yourself out to those duraan fahliille on your father's command. Without me you'd be dead and forgotten. Your own family didn't even care if you lived or died. I was the one who took you in. I was the one who gave you chance. Without me you'd be nothing. Without me you are nothing." Dales wanted to yell at him, she wanted to disobey. Her body began to resist her mind and she began to feel a strong compulsion to obey. Resisting that compulsion, that twisted desire to obey was at first very uncomfortable but then it quickly became increasingly painful. She felt as her energy was draining and her knees began to shake till she finally fell down onto them. Skjari only looked on the display with only a slight look of disapproval. The hidden entrance into the royal bed chamber opened with a creak. Helen Quentas briskly ran to the pair, throwing herself in front of the Empress and acting as a human, spreading her arms out. Her Lapis Lazuli eyes shone with surprising force, not hindered by her silver spectacles. Speaking in a cold, but very forceful tone, she told Lord Snow-Strider: "Enough. Don't lay another finger on her." Skjari looked at Helen first with a mild look of surprise but as his face returned to its neutral expression, he quickly cast a spell with a green flare on Helen, causing the small girl freeze like a statue. "Dales, we got a problem." he said with a slight annoyance. "Master, Helen has nothing to do with this..." She said with a low tone of voice staying on her knees "Well the problem is she might have overheard a bit too much." A look of horror stretched out on her face when she relized what Witchie was suggesting. Dales tried a different tactic "You can't be serious. Helen she's nothing, only a girl, just a low ranking noble and maid. She's also Lilly's beloved niece, and if she finds out that you offed her, her vengeance would know no bounds." "That is also part of the problem. But the secret must be kept." he stroked his beard as he grew silent for a second. "I got an idea. You will find out exactly what she knows. If she knows of our secret you will discretely kill her and dispose of the body. If she doesn't, persuade her that we were just having a little argument and that she should forget about it all. You understand?" "Yes, yes. Of course." "Good. Now I'll let her out of the spell. Lets hear what she has to say. Just remain where you are and she wont notice that we've talked or anything. And lets hope for all our sakes that she doesn't say anything we will regret." he said and with a slight movement of his fingers the stiffness disappeared from Helen's body. Helen blinked twice. She looked uneasy, but still held the same expression. Though, for some her reason, her usual shy voice was...sluggish and diluted. Her skin was growning anormally pale as well "Abuse her majesty again, with magic or your hands and i'll...tell General Ceno and Lilly." The young girl said firmly. "Leave now." "I think you're misunderstanding. But I'll leave." he turned to Dales. "Please talk some sense into your maid." he then walked away from them at a calm pace and left the room through the secret passageway. Helen barely had a chance to glance back at Dales, before her face went stone cold and nearly lifeless as she tumbled to the floor, with a crash, her brilliant blue eyes shutting tight. Dales let out a scream, as she rushed forward, "HELEN!!!"

Akamon "Hawkeye" a.k.a Hawk of Leki Skaven, Hammerfell Evening "There you go girl. You stay here and keep the other horses company." Akamon patted Leki's nose with his hand and smiled at his stallion. Giving her a kiss on the forehead, Akamon backed out of the stall and through the barn. The stables of Skaven were some of the biggest in Hammerfell. The owner of the stables, a kind Dunmer woman, greeted Akamon outside of the barn as he about leave. "Sera, that would be 20 gold." The Dunmer pursed her lips and while doing so reached for her pouch of coins and waited to be paid. Looking at her from underneath his straw hat, Akamon smiled to her and replied simply with,"Ansei horses stay at stables for free." Upon realizing this, the Dunmer women apologized quickly and returned to her house. Walking towards the gate to Skaven, it's tall stone walls loomed over Akamon. Skaven has survived numerous sieges from Imperial Legions, to Old Mary war machines. The guard to Akamon's left crossed his spear with the guard of the right side of the gate. The guard on the left addressed Akamon formally. "What business do you have in Skaven traveler?" Lifting his head level to that of the guard, so the lamp overhead would catch Akamon's face, he nonchalantly said,"And what might you gain from meddling in the affairs of an Ansei?" Eyes widening, the guard let,"The Hawk of Leki", escape his lips before shouting to the upper ramparts, "Open the gates! The Hawk of Leki is entering the city!" Uncrossing their spears, the guard on right apologized to Akamon swiftly,"Forgive me milord." Ignoring the guard, Akamon walked through the gates and as he did so, a pitched chime sounded off into the night of the city. One chime meant that an Ansei was entering a city, two meant that a Crown was entering a city, and three chimes meant the King of Hammerfell was entering a city. The gates closing behind him, Akamon calmly walked through the streets of Skaven. Within ten minutes, Akamon entered the Leisure District of Skaven. Most of the businesses in this district were brothels, hooka dens, and bathhouses. Coming to one such bathhouse called Flowing Spirits, Akamon opened the wooden door and entered. Aroumas of tamas, rolled beef with cheese inside filled Aakmons nostrils. A beautiful Redguard woman in simple, but revealing robes, greeted Akamon. "Good evening Ansei. It has been a while since one of your order has come to our humble bathhouse. Would you like to rent our best room? At a discount of course", smiling playfully the hostess batted her eyelashes at Akamon. Yawning, and smiling back at the lovely hostess, Akamon pulled out his pouch and handed her 10 gold coins. Walking past her towards his room, he whispered in her ear,"Bring me some tamas to the bath if you will, sema." Sliding the cloth and wooden door, Akamon was greeted by a plush bedroll with two linen pillows and a neat back space to store his armor and such. Undressing down to his bare skin, Akamon left his necklace of Leki on, and only brought his scimitar with to the adjoining part of the bathhouse. Sliding the door shut behind him, Akamon saw the plate of tamas by the edge of the bath. Taking off his towel, and resting his scimitar beside in such an angle so that he could quickly draw the blade and attack in one fluid motion, Akamon dipped into the bath and started to relax. As the steam parted, Falion LaRouche spotted Akamon. Nothing but the Breton's head floated above the water. When he rose, the water ran through the coarse hair that covered his burly chest, though a spot on his left peck lay bare. On it, a large black bear was tattooed. He waded through the water over to Akamon, then slumped back down in the water directly across from the Ansei. "You were there at the duel. The one where that b-that woman beat me," Falion said, his eyes narrowed as they flicked to the sword, then back to Akamon. Savoring the flavor of the tamas, Akamon heard a splash of water from the far of the bath. Turning his head in the direction of the sound, Akamon was surprised to see the Breton knight who lost to Lashana a week ago. The Breton had a black bear tattooed on his left peck. Akamon pretended he didn't hear the near insult of Lashana. His eyes never missed a beat. The man's eyes flicked to Akamon's scimitar before resting back to Akamon. Plopping another tamas in his mouth, Akamon took another one and handed it to the Breton. Swallowing the last of the meat, Akamon spoke. "She's fast. Not many even in the Hall can match her tempo and rhythm with the blade. I'm surprised you were able last as long as you did. You were simply unlucky, that's all. If my memory serves me correctly your name is Falion? My name is Akamon, though people throughout Hammerfell refer to me either as The Hawk of Leki or simply, Hawk. It's not hard to figure out why. With these eyes, you attract a lot of attention." The knight scoffed, then tossed the tamas back. "Humble of you, oh great, all seeing Hawk. You're damn right I was unlucky. If I'd've pulled any other runt they would've been flat on their backs. Your friend was quicker than a sabertooth tiger. It's unnatural." Taking the tamas, Akamon scoffed it down. Looking back at the Breton, Akamon chuckled at his comment. "All Ansei are unnatural. The question is, who is more unnatural than the next one? As the saying goes, there's always a bigger fish. If you faced me.... well lets not get into that topic. Let's just say if you thought Lashana was unnatural, I'm an anomaly." Just then, one of the hostesses came into the bath area with two small cups and some wine. Setting them down, she winked Falion and then left the two warriors to themselves again. Uncorking the bottle of wine, Akamon poured himself a cup and poured another cup for Falion. "Want some wine? If you have any questions at all feel free to ask." Akamon held out the cup to Falion hoping he would accept it. Falion took it, and gulped it down quickly. It wasn't the first drink he'd had today, nor the strongest. He held it back out for a refill. "Unnatural at boasting, maybe. Bugger it all, what do I care, I got kicked out of my order anyway. I got my ass put on the floor, and it won't be the last time. Fine, what brings you here?" Pouring more into Falion's cup, Akamon swigged his quickly and answered the knight's question. "Well I'm looking for somebody who I thought was dead for eight years. I won't get into the details, but the first clue led me here. Hopefully I'll find her. I left the order, so I'm not an Ansei anymore", sighing, Akamon poured another cup of wine and quickly consumed it. "I apologize if I came off arrogant earlier. Honestly I suck at prideful boasting. Heh, your the one who told me, haha. Even Lashana agrees. She'll just say 'just shut up', hahaha. I miss her already." Laying back more, and resting both arms on the edge of the bath, Akamon said,"You were kicked out of your order huh? It happens all the time. Tell me what brings you to Hammerfell Falion?" Falion massaged his temple, closing his eyes and thinking deep. "Where do I begin...well, my brother is a noble in Farrun. We never got along though. Once my parents died, there wasn't anything tying me down. I've been adventuring ever since. Made my way to Dragonstar after a time, joined the order there. Figured I'd teach you prancing Redguards a thing or two about swordplay. You saw how that went. Now I'm here. Figure I'll drink for a while, find some bounties and get back to work. Maybe try Cyrodiil, or Skyrim. "What's that saying? 'Go where the wind takes you?' Well I guess I'm waiting for the wind to blow, then." "Ah a noble. I've met a couple in my time... all I have to say is Crowns; they're bunch of assholes honestly. Ah yes Dragonstar I've been there a few times. Not the most exciting city, but you do get a nice mix of cultures from your province and Skyrim. Well hopefully the wind doesn't take you to a dead end." Sitting up, Akamon wanted to get a taste of the man's fighting style. "Where did you learn your particular style of rhythm with the sword? I'm always eager to share techniques with a fellow swordsman.'' Akamon uncorked the wine bottle again and gestured to Falion if he wanted more. Falion eagerly stuck his cup out. Once refilled, he said, "I suppose my father and our master-at-arms. Trained the way most knights do, in heavy armor, blocking, and the longsword. How about yourself?" Smiling Akamon was actually enjoying himself. It was refreshing to talk about swordsmanship with somebody who was not an Ansei. "Like you, I was taught by my father, though he was farmer. He started teaching me in the way of the sword at the age of 5. One of the things he stressed the most was stamina conservation and patience. He had a copy of the Book of Circles, written by Frandar Hunding. That's how I actually learned to read and write was from the teaching of Hunding. It is full of many, many different defensive stances, thousands of different sword cuts, and thirty four different grips. It can be overwhelming at times. Anyway, I was taught to use a shield, but only when I absolutely couldn't dodge or counter a blow. I wear an armor referred to as "metal skin" it's frasseted steel that hugs the body, and allows me to weave and dodge, and use my agility to its advantage." Taking a swig, Akamon continued,"One thing you have to keep in mind about my people is, we are all expected to at least be adept in some form weapon skill, most preferably swordsmanship." Falion rubbed the black stubble on his chin. "Heh, farmers in High Rock wouldn't know the first thing about using a sword. Just to stick'em with the sharp end. I guess the closest thing we have to the Book of Circles is The Mirror, though very few revere it the way you folk revere your book. The only people with an obligation to know how to fight are the nobles." "Ah I see. That's somewhat disappointing but High Rock is a totally different land. Well my friend it looks like I'll be heading to bed. It was good sharing wine, and swordplay with you; and if I might add, don't let you losing to Lashana keep you down, I've lost to her plenty of times." Getting up out of the bath, Akamon wrapped his towel around his waist. He had his back turned so he assumed Falion would get a good look at his tattoo also. Picking up his sword, Akamon walked over to the sliding door and was about to open it when he turned around to face Falion, and added,"The hostess who brought our drinks, she's waiting for you. Go to the end of the living quarters, last door on your right, knock and she will ask,'What do you want?' Answer her with,'latomba'. You'll thank me tomorrow. Good night." Akamon shut the door behind him and headed to his room. It would the first night were he would never remember his dreams. Falion's brow scrunched, but it didn't take him long to figure out whatever a "latomba" was, he'd enjoy it. He wrapped his towel around his waist, then moved at a quick walk to the last door on the right. He knocked, nervous with anticipation. It was eerily quiet in the hallway and Falion was about to retire to his room when a soft, sultry voice made its way to the door. "What do you desire?" His heart beating faster, Falion simply answered,"latomba." The voice spoke once again. "You may enter." Anxiously sliding the door open, Falion was met with a very erotic sight. Laying before him was a voluptuous dark skinned Redguard woman who's robes were tied loosely so that they hung below her shoulder revealing her smooth skin and her entire breasts. Gulping, Falion slide the door shut behind him and walked forward. The woman sat up a little more and with her outstretched hand, used her index finger to gesture him to come to her. Falion said to himself softly, "this wind is blowing in the best direction", then set himself upon the exotic dark skinned beauty.

Akamon "Hawkeye" One Week Ago Hall of the Virtues of War Watching Lashana fight was a sight to behold. She was extremely fast and agile, and her footwork was almost flawless, compared to the other Ansei in the temple. Akamon smiled with amusement as Lashana was fighting with a man from one of the knightly orders in Hammerfell. Apparently the man wanted to challenge one of the Ansei with a duel to show off his skill, though it looks his plan is crumbling very fast. Lashana danced around around the man as if he was still and would land three consecutive strikes before backing off and letting the Knight catch his breath. This sort of thing happened a lot. Some arrogant swordsman or Knight from one of the many Knightly orders in Hammerfell, would challenge an Ansei to a duel, and every single time they lost. Akamon remembered when he fought in one such duel. It was with a man from the Order of the Lily. The man's name was Astius Crex an Imperial Knight who used to be a Centurion in the Legion. On the day of the duel Akamon defeated the Knight in less than ten seconds by using the famed "Ephimeral Feint" a sword technique created by none other than Frandar Hunding himself. Let alone considering the fact that the technique is very difficult to pull off in the first place and the fact that at the time, Akamon was only 23, put a dent in the knight's pride as a warrior. The Astius vowed that he would have a rematch, but it has been 7 years since then and no such word has reached Akamon yet. It was over. Lashana stood over the man who was lying flat on his back, her sword blade up against the man's neck. Rashadon, Grandmaster Ansei, raised his hand. The old Redguard spoke in his soothing voice. "The match has been decided, Lashana is victor in this duel. Farion LaRouche, you fought honorably, but the duel was not yours to be won. When you go back to your order, tell them to cease the amount of duel requests. Good day." Getting up, Rashadon walked out of the sparring floor. Seeing this as his moment, Akamon sneaked up behind Lashana and picked her up and tickled her in the stomach before being slapped in the face teasingly by his former mentor. Putting her down Akamon smiled at her and said,"Glad to know my former mentor is still sharp as ever. Here I thought you were getting rusty." Scowling playfully, Lashana rested her silver eyes on Akamon, and mockingly retorted,"Oh is that so? Well I'll gladly accept a challenge from you any time liitle bro. Leki only knows you could use it, we haven't dueled in over a year." Giving Akamon a wink, Lashana saw that Akamon was wearing comfortable clothes which suggested he just got up from sleeping. "Sleeping in lately Akamon?" Akamon jokingly puffed out his in playful defiance, but he knew he couldn't outdo his old mentor. Sighing and bringing his head back up to meet hers, Akamon grabbed a hold of both her shoulders and said in a serious voice,"I've been having those dreams again; and this last one was more vivid and real than the others", pausing for bit, Akamon was wondering if he should tell Lashana about seeing the the dream through Elqwinwe's eyes. Thinking on it, he decided not to. He didn't want her to think that he was going crazy. "Akamon!" Hearing his name being yelled, Akamon was brought back to reality. Letting go of Lashana's shoulders, he asked a very important question. "Will you come with me to visit my village? There is something I must confirm there. Only then will the nightmares stop." Lashana crossed her arms and pursed her lips. She knew Akamon had dreams about the massacre of his village. He didn't have them every night, but he experienced them frequent enough for him to confide in her about them. Which was understandable because Lashana thought of Akamon like a younger brother, and he thought of her as an older sister. Rubbing the side of her head, Lashana finally broke the silence, and answered,"Yes I will come with you. I know how much... that experienced has traumatized you. When will we be leaving?" Akamon breathed a sigh of relief and and replied."As soon as possible. Remember to pack for two weeks. It takes about a week to get there on horseback and then there is the journey back." For you Lashana. Only for you. One Week Later "It hasn't changed much, if at all." Akamon gazed over his once proud village, which was now in ruins thanks to Old Mary. Snapping the reigns of Leki, his horse, Aakmon trotted towards the village. In most Hammerfell villages, huts were constructed out of dried mud and import lumber from the eastern part of Hammerfell. Despite the crude materials used, the craftmanship was apparent. Though was left was in shambles and ruins. Half burned buildings and ashes were everywhere. "What are you looking for exactly?" Lashana asked as she trotted right beside Akamon. Her gaze was questioning but honest. Looking at her from under his straw hat which concealed his eyes, Akamon responded with,"Anything that confirms she is dead." Lashana let a, "hmph" escape her lips in annoyance, but said nothing else. Once they reached the middle of what remained of the village, Akamon pulled the reigns on Leki and brought her to a halt. Dismounting quickly, Akamon scanned the scene. Besides from the half burned buildings and skeletons of dead animals, nothing had changed from he last time visited over 2 years ago. Wanting to get right down to business, Akamon entered the remains of Elquinwe's parent's store. Broken bottles littered the ground, torn pieces of rugs and linen hung on the walls that weren't completely burned down, and a couple of mice skittered across the wooden floor. Walking behind the counter, Akamon searched the inside of the counter for any clues whatsoever. Honestly he didn't know what he was looking for, but whatever it was when he would come to find it, he find answers. Moving old burned books from the shelves inside of the counter, something caught Akamon's eye. It was a thin journal, surprisingly well preserved, admist all of burned books. Grabbing a hold of it, Akamon opened it, and all of a sudden a blue light flashed from the book and immediately vanished. Magic. Akamon put two and two together and it all made sense, one of Elqwinwe's parents must have placed a protective spell on the journal to keep from getting damaged. Reading through the journal entries most of them had to do with the financial and marital circumstances between Armion and Elenya, Elqwinwe's parents. Coming to the last journal entry, Akamon couldn't believe it. 12th of Last Seed, 4E -- (year scratched off) I pen this journal entry with the utmost haste. Elqwinwe just returned from talking to some travelers, when she saw a golden sparkles in the distant. All of my instincts and foresight leave only one answer, the Dominion is coming to Divad's Calling. I quickly packed two extra dresses for Elqwinwe and some bread, cheese, wine, and a spell tome for a simple fire spell. I gave her a note on where to go to. She has to leave town immediately. The note I gave her will lead her to the city of Skaven. She will be safe there. They're coming! If only Akamon were---- (rest unreadable) Closing the journal, Akamon felt something he hadn't in a long time... hope. Hope that Elqwinwe was alive. Hope that she was still in the city of Skaven. Though he was prepared for the worst. He had to find her. He had to track her down and beg for her forgiveness for not being in at the village when it needed him the most. "12th of Last Seed... only two days before I arrived at the village." He knew what he had to do. Taking Elenya's journal with him, Akamon walked back outside where Lashana leaned against a wooden post. Seeing him, Lashana walked over to Akamon, and asked,"Did you find anything?" Still in a state of revelation, Akamon spoke absent mindedly,"Yes. Thank you for coming along with me Lashana. You can make your way back to the Hall." Taking off his cloak which concealed his armor very well, Akamon, unhooked his steel shield from behind his back and taking the silver shortsword from inside and hooking it onto his belt on his lower back, handed his shield to her and said,"I want you to have this. It would be cumbersome for me for such a long journey." "Wait your leaving?" Lashana asked in a surprised voice. (music to set the mood) Looking at her with his piercing amber eyes, Akamon smiled slightly and hugged her fiercely. He didn't want to leave, but he had no choice. While embracing her, Akamon whispered in her ear,"I know you don't me to leave, but this something I have to do for myself. If your wondering why I'm doing this, then all I have to say is this: the heart moves where the heart wills. I'll miss you, and don't let your skills falter." Letting go of Lashana, Akamon mounted Leki and threw on his cloak. Lowering the straw hat so his eyes and nose were concealed, Akamon looked down on her and finally said,"Goodbye Lashana." Snapping the reigns, Leki trotted forward eastward towards Skaven. Towards Elqwinwe.