TheCzarsHussar

Eduard Laenius Location: Throughout Cyrodiil & Skyrim 15 weeks ago I’m leaving the Imperial City, as well as Cyrodiil, a very happy but tired man. As a result, the Grand Champion is dead. I was paid quite well for murdering Kaye, and framing that Elf. Which I had felt bad about, until I remembered I was getting paid to ruin the Altmer’s life. The man who signed the contract even gave me a keepsake, Kaye’s mask, not that I really wanted it. I’ve always pondered starting a collection, only to decide collecting gold was more useful. I’m doing very well now though, and maybe I’m due for a change or two. We’ll see. Also, the Brotherhood once again has a foothold in Cyrodiil. It’s not too deep yet, but I recommended a very capable man to lead them. Recruitment on the other hand, was far more difficult than I had planned for. It seems their name doesn’t carry as much allure as in the past. Even if I am the one asking around. Though I got a few well established names to join. As for the leader, Nex was always reliable for Jon and I. It’s not my problem anyways, I suppose. The Brotherhood cleared him, so it’s all up to him now. I hear they’ve already got some solid contracts, so that’s a positive sign. At the end of the day, my pockets are full. That’s all I really care about for the moment. 13 weeks ago I decided to stop by an old friend of mine before finishing up my trip back to Dawnstar. An old bandit, Tyran. I wasn’t aware that he had relocated to Skyrim. Probably because he keeps his operation quite small. Very efficient though, for bandit standards. I asked him if he’d buy Kaye’s mask, and he offered a respectable amount. He’s always been one for collectibles. However, I… turned him down. I believe I’ll be keeping this unless I get an offer I can’t refuse. Besides, Jon may want to see it at least one more time. He always enjoyed watching the guy fight. Oh well, some things can’t be helped. Speaking of Jon, I received a letter from Livia through him. “You’ve been gone a long time. I’m really worried about youâ€. Leave it to her to worry way too much about me. I guess it can’t be helped. I’d do the same if she was away. That’s how families operate. Leave for a month without talking, and you assume they died. Oh well. I’ll be home to greet her soon. Speaking of which, I forgot to pick up something for her. I’ll have to double back and ask Tyran if he’s got anything from Cyrodiil I could… buy. 10 weeks ago I’ve been back in Dawnstar for almost two weeks now. It’s been nice sleeping in a house regularly. I had seriously forgotten how that felt. It will definitely make getting up much harder. It can’t be helped. Livia was quite excited by my return, as she usually is. That’s always a boost to my mood. Then there’s that girl. Karita. Hmm. It seems the more I try to distract myself from thinking about her, the harder she pounds on my mind. She’s an interesting girl, with a very distinct charm to her. Though she tends to speak of her and I as “usâ€. She’s overestimating what she has, but I don’t really feel like killing this relationship. Not yet. Maybe I will. I always do. As for the Brotherhood, I am about to embark on my second contract. A bit closer to home this time. There’s a successful merc here in Skyrim, goes by the name Red. I’ve gathered some information leading me to believe he’s holed up in a cabin North of Whiterun. Red. That’s a name that will fit him soon enough. 9 weeks ago Red is dead. As I had thought, he was holed up in a small cabin. I stalked him for about three days before I struck. Waited until his annoying companions left for their daily errands, then I entered through a cracked window. He never even heard me. From what I hear, while he was successful, he wasn’t all that clean. Overkills and overall sloppy work from someone who was getting as big a name as he was. I took his sword, Nordic from the looks of it. It’s definitely custom work though. Damn good work too. It’s a shame he never got to use it against me. For him, anyways. I’ll probably put this next to Kaye’s mask. Payday is tomorrow. Couldn’t have gone any better. 7 weeks ago Life is good. There isn’t much more I could ask for, other than the obvious. I’ve got a good stream of gold, and a soft bed. And a girl with whom to share it. She’s quite easy to get attached to, I suppose. I enjoy her company well enough. It still bothers me when she says “us†though. I don’t want to get into deep, but I don’t want to cut off my relationship with her either. If only she wanted me for the same reason I wanted her, we wouldn’t have this problem. Jon is getting back into the game pretty seriously again. Which is good news. I loathed holding him down to protecting my sister during the war. I’ll just have to take Jon’s word for it that the pay and the friendship were more than enough. Lastly, this whole Brotherhood thing is continuing to bear good fruit. I completed a quick contract last week, and pocketed 500. For a two day job, that’s not bad at all. Especially considering how easy the target was. Just a young hunter. Kind of like I was back in the day. Obviously, he wasn’t as skilled. And he probably shouldn’t have cheated on his girl. Would have spared him having a contract on his head I hear. Speaking of which, I may want to watch my own interactions from here on out. At least while I’m in Dawnstar, right? 5 weeks ago Another two weeks at home. Though that will be interrupted here soon, unfortunately. Brotherhood contract will be taking me near the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil, somewhat near Pale Pass actually. I can’t help but think back to the war. The pay is very nice, but the price is very steep. Never a soft bed to sleep on. The food is garbage. But the gold? Shiny as ever. Karita left on a little trip last week. Supposed to be gone until next week. I sent someone to tail her and make sure she makes it back in one piece. As of right now, she’s the only girl I’m seeing. Which… doesn’t matter to me much right now. She gives me everything I want. Good food as well as a good time. I don’t see any reason to let her go, even if I do worry I’m starting to get attached. 17 days ago I’ve been scouting and stalking my target for about four days now. Her name is Ria. I wasn’t given much information other than the location. Turns out she’s lightly guarded by four men who wait outside her camp all day. Well, twelve men on three shifts that is. The window during the second shift change is longer than the first. It seems as though the night shift are the laziest. Can’t blame them. She would though. If she were to live through their failure. Which she won’t. Present Day I’m about two days out of Dawnstar. The girl is dead, and my pockets are once again full. I also have a very nice ring that I took from her. It seems every time that I go out, I come back with something more beautiful than last time. Well. Other than the one minor contract. Nothing good about that whole ordeal, other than the quick pay. It’s been a long trip, and I am ready to rest in my own bed once again. Maybe I’ll invite Karita over, since she should be back in town. I do have a little bit of spare energy.

Gracchus, Dales, Maori, Tacitus Skingrad & the Imperial City Morning to Afternoon Gracchus woke from a wholesome sleep, his body rejuvenated from yesterday's bath. He'd also gone to bed early, so early he rose, the bright orange sphere just now peeking it's head over the eastern horizon. He dressed quickly, putting on his underclothes and a simple pair of pants and a collared shirt, washing his face in the basin and packing his things, before he left to breakfast. As he passed by the High Admiral's room, he saw that Tacitus was also awake, but had yet gotten dressed. "I'm off to breakfast, if you'd like to join," Gracchus said, peeking through the slightly open door. "I'll be down in a moment, let me finish getting ready," Tacitus replied quite gruffly. He was still visited by nightmares, and hadn't slept as well as the general. Gracchus went on down the hall, stopping in front of Maori's room. He knocked lightly, so that it wouldn't wake the elf if he still slept. Maori had gotten used to sleeping in short periods due to the dangers of the wilds of Valenwood, but also do to his own regretful dreams. So he hadn't slept much, but he was still well rested, spending most of the night thinking while resting his eyes. Hearing the knock, he arose, already dressed, then said, "Yes? Is it a woman? Hehe." "Gods I hope not, or my whole life's been a lie. General Ceno, in case you couldn't guess," Gracchus said through the still shut door. "Why don't you let me in, or I'll get my men to busy it down," he then joked. After a few seconds, there was clicking from the other side of the door, then the elf swung it open. "Just once, just once I'd like for it to actually be a woman. Come in...." he said with a sigh. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of girls for you in the capital. Speaking of which, you better get to packing, we're leaving before lunch for the Imperial City. Me, you, and Tacitus have a date with the Empress. I've got my own news, and you two get to tell her about the grand escape," Gracchus said, standing in the doorway. "I get to meet the Empress huh? That aught to be interesting. I'm already good to go, I'm used to having to travel quickly. We've gotta get some of that steak on the go though before we leave." "I'm headed down to breakfast, so you can join me if you like. We can order some steak while we're there," Gracchus said, backing into the hallway, were he saw Tacitus walking towards him. "All packed up?" the general asked. "Yeah, let's get some chow. He paint face, you ready?" Tacitus asked, peeking into Maori's room much the way Gracchus had his. "Paint this," he said, pointing at his crotch while grinning. "Lets make it quick, I'm excited to see that giant dick up close." How appropriate for the last Emperor they had. Wonder what this one's like. "This Empress. She anything like her father?" Gracchus glanced at Tacitus, and they both chuckled. "Not like her father at all," Gracchus said, still laughing. "She murdered her father, is the thing. Brutally, so they say," Tacitus added. "Ah, sounds like my kind of Empress. So she's a warrior, then? Good. A no nonsense Empress is what you need," said Maori. This time it was full blown laughter from the general and admiral, Tacitus even grabbing a stitch in his side, while Gracchus wiped away a stray tear. "Not quite...for one, she's no warrior, actually no more than a young woman. Also she-" Gracchus was interrupted by Tacitus, who out it more bluntly than the general would have. "Is a lesbian. Or so the rumors say. The rumors also say she's somewhat promiscuous. So no ideas, lover boy," Tacitus said, aiming a light hearted quick at Maori's groin. Gracchus was thankful Tacitus addressed Dales' sexuality as mere rumor, even though the general knew it to be fact. Much easier on him if he ever had need to deny the claims, as rumors could be refuted where facts could not. Maori's eyes darted from the admiral to the general back and forth to see if they were pulling his leg, but the laughing was too authentic for that. "A young lesbian promiscuous girl walks into the White Gold Tower to slaughter her father. Sounds like a setup for a joke with a punchline went wrong. I'll believe it when I see it." Maori said, ever the skeptic. "In any case, she murdered her father, so that's enough for me to like her, I think." "Well, I'm glad the Bosmer approves, who knows what we'd do if he didn't!" Tacitus lightheartedly exclaimed, turning his back and walking out into the hallway. "Come on, I don't know about you but I'm hungrier than a horde of trolls," Gracchus said, following the High Admiral. "Yea..." Maori said, still thinking on their description of their Empress. Surely a general and admiral wouldn't slander their Empress that way unless it were true? If so...."This is a strange place indeed." he said as he followed behind the hero general. Downstairs, a hearty meal of sausage, flat flour cakes with sweet maple syrup and eggs met the trio. They began to devour them, while Gracchus sent up a few soldiers to grab their things, so they could leave as soon as they finished the meal, which was soon over. As the waitress came to gather their plates, Gracchus caught her attention. "If you want those steaks, nows your chance," he said to Maori, motioning towards the waitress. "Don't take too long, I'd like to get home so I can see how many ships the bureaucrats sunk while I was away," Tacitus added cynically. Maori turned to the waitress and smiled, saying that he indeed wanted the steaks from before with it. "Make it four, and here's a tip," he said, placing a small pouch of gold on the table along with an extra six on the side. "Should have brought some beetles to go with it, but oh well. Would have made a great side dish." "I'll take your word for it." Gracchus said, his nose wrinkling up at the thought. A soldier, one of his, approached them, casting the occasional glance at Maori. "General, we have the bags packed and loaded, sir." "Very good, thank you. Go grab a quick bite to eat, so we can leave as soon as we finish," Gracchus ordered, sternly but not unkind. "Well, there you have it Mr. Meridius, we're almost ready to go." "'Bout time. Now if beetle brains would just hurry, we could've left an hour ago. Just like in Valenwood, always waiting on you, Maori," Tacitus obviously joked, leaning back in his chair. "Ha, well in Valenwood, we actually had good reason to wait. Lots of things that can eat you in that place when you're not in a city. Unless you count the Bosmer themselves, but they're obviously not ones to go hunting people to do it. Usually." The waitress came by with his steaks and placed them all in front of him. They obviously were leftovers cooked from the previous day, so they were saltier from being preserved, but that didn't bother the Bosmer as he swiped them all up and placed them in his pack. "Okay, we can leave. Huh, Imperials waiting on my every whim? Now that sure is a twist. I could get used to this, hehe." "Don't get too used to it, I wouldn't be surprised if you were chosen for inspection when we entered the palace. And the guards are very...thorough, if you catch my meaning," Tacitus said with a sly grin, leading the way as the three men exited the inn. Gracchus laughed a little, mounting Lil Ceno who was being held by a soldier, to make it easier to get on. Not that Gracchus needed any help, as he and the dapple gray destrier could practically speak to each other. Beside them were the two horse General Flaccus lent to Tacitus and Maori, all saddled up and ready to ride. "Mount up, and we'll be off," Gracchus said, watching as Tacitus awkwardly got on his steed with one hand. "Isn't that a sight." Maori could sense his horse was a little stressed, probably due to the rough handling of the men. Resting a hand at the beast's head, he gently rubbed it until it gave a satisfying snort and shake of its head. Smiling, he mounted the steed, then said, "Oh are they? Well, so are the Thalmor. I'll make the legion boys regret it too if they get too thorough...you have any idea how bad a fart can be from a carnivorous cannibal?" Tacitus, finally having managed to mount his horse, shook his head and spat at the ground. "Blasted hand, it's good for nothing. As for you breaking wind, I think you did enough of that in Valenwood as well. Thought you were going to kill everything within a mile of camp." "Well maybe if you could keep up, you wouldn't have to smell my back-draft, eh? Hehe. And speaking of keeping up, hya!" Maori took off ahead of the others and stuck his tongue out at Tacitus as his horse galloped past. "The race is on," Gracchus said with a wink, then snapped the reins and dug his heels, spurring Lil Ceno into a sprint. Tacitus however, was very ungainly on the horse, and he had trouble even getting the horse to go. "Go! Onward! Hya! Hya!" he snapped the reins repeatedly, but the horse slowly walked instead of ran. "Gooooo!" ** His chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, Lil Ceno came to a stop right outside the palace. Gracchus knew he'd probably catch hell for disturbing the piece, but no on had been injured, at least by him am his horse. Behind him was Maori, who was just beginning to pull up. "That was rather fun! I was sure you would win using your power of animal speech," Gracchus said with a laugh, dismounting in one fluid motion and leading Lil Ceno by the reins to a water trough. "Say, where's Admiral Meridius? He get lost?" Maori was rather embarrassed, but he didn't show it. Obviously this Imperial had a good relationship with his horse. That was something magic and animal commanding couldn't replicate anymore than skill augmenting spells could replicate true talent. Looking behind him, he saw Tacitus finally making his way to them with his horse doing a light jog rather than a gallop. "I think I could run faster than that! Hurry up, you Sload!" "Can it, before I have you arrested for a spy! It's not my fault the horse is defective, he won't run! All he does trot!" Tacitus said. If Maori was embarrassed and didn't show it, Tacitus was angry and wore it all over his face, from his red cheeks to sweaty brow. "How about next time we boat race, then we'll see who's laughing!" "Don't be so sour, Admiral, just be happy he didn't-" Almost as on cue, the horse reared up, then arched his back as he came down and the High Admiral flew very high indeed. Maori shot spittle from his mouth and laughed immediately when the horse decided the Admiral should try his luck at flying. "Quit laying around, Admiral, we've got important business to attend to." "Why don't you, haha, give him a hand, Maori?" Gracchus said with a gut wrenching laugh, his abs growing sore from the thunderous laughter. "I out to hand you an a** kicking, but I think I bruised a few ribs on the fall. Just watch your back Ceno, I'll be comin' for ya," Tacitus said in mock anger, even as his face was beet red. Maori was about to make a joke about 'giving him a hand', but this time he did manage to stop himself from saying yet another bad joke. Though holding it in just made him laugh more. After helping the admiral up to his feet, he took his horse by the reins and guided it off with Maori's own horse. "Okay, lets go now. Enough lollygagging about, Admiral." Tacitus didn't even bother with a thank you, instead just brushing himself off quickly before casting the most hateful glance one could imagine at his horse. He mumbled something, but all Gracchus could make out was the words "new boots," so he didn't respond, stifling a chuckle as he turned on his heel and started towards the door. Inside, a young man, presumably a butler, stood by a door, face blank and hands held behind his back. "Could you take us to the Empress?" Gracchus said, dropping the previous playfulness in his voice. The butler was about to say something, but was interrupted by a cool, professorial voice, "I'm afraid i'll have to frisk you, Lord General Ceno as well as your companions, sir." The man in question wore the white-gold armor of a palace guard, but didn't have the standard issue helmet. His hair was jet black, with a few grey spots here and there. His most distinct feature, however, was his very dark blue eyes, which under the right lighting conditions, could appear as dark violet to the untrained eye. He had a cleanly shaven beard, and a huge warhammer on his back. He was flanked by two palace guard. His arms were crossed. "Since when do they frisk generals like Ceno? Is that normal?" Maori asked. "Simply following protocol, sir." He said, raising his eyebrow at the sight of the Bosmer. "Settle down, Maori. I assume it's standard procedure after the two assassination attempts. And before you ask, I didn't tell you because it didn't seem relevant. You too Admiral, although I'm not sure you care either way," Gracchus said as he raised his hands to allow the pat down. "Captain Imperius, it's been a while." Tacitus too adopted the arms raised pose, making no arguments but I pleased all the same. "I'll go first then," Maori said. He had eight or so knives on him, but he left it to the guard to find them all, not wanting to make it easy on him. "Don't get too frisky. You'll regret it...." "I doubt we would want too." Muttered the older man, in a slightly deadpan tone. The officer motioned for the two other men, presumably under his command, to search the Bosmer. They were thorough, and surprisingly quick to discover all of the Bosmer's knives, After double checking, they placed the discovered weaponary in a chest, "When you leave the palace, we'll return your weapons. Not since Skyrim, sir." Captain Esmerdus Imperius said, responding to Gracchus. "So not as long as I thought. I never did get the chance to offer you my condolences for the passing of your brother. Always a sad business, even if we were never on the best of terms towards the end," Gracchus said as the guards frisked him, finding only a dagger in his boot besides his cavalry saber. Chuckling darkly under his breath, the captain said, looking deeply at the wall, "Was hoping it would stop with me being a casket carrier for my brother. Not one month ago, had to do the same service for Maria." He was referring to his daughter, a commander in the the Penitus Occultus. "What happened? This news is grim indeed, yet it somehow must've slipped by me. Again, my sincerest condolences," Gracchus said, while the guards moved to Tacitus, who had his cutlass along with the axe in his satchel, which was confiscated along with the entire bag. "Terrorists, or so I'm told. The new spymaster was less then forthcoming with the details. Some group called Blood Pack, or Blood Wolves. Tried searching up the term, found nothing." He nodded his head at them, "You're clean." "Do you mind leading us to Empress Motierre?" Gracchus asked Captain Imperius. "I'm unsure of where she is, and you know the palace better than I." "Follow me." He said politely, not waiting for them.He took them down a few hallways, "Glorious building, is it not?" "The Ayleids sure knew what they were doing." Maori said. "Quite. Gloriously confusing, as well, even if I've visited numerous times," Gracchus said, following the guard captain. "I have an office here, and I still get lost," Tacitus added in a monotonous voice. "You hail from Valenwood sir?" Captain Imperius said to Maori "I heard the buildings there are made from the living trees, grand and majestic." "That would describe all of Valenwood, but yes. The grandest is as you know, Falinesti." "Must be a magnificent sight to behold. As grand as the imperial palace is, I would not recommend visiting in the dusk or darkness of the night, this place takes a sinsiter edge, and I swear by akatosh, the place is haunted." The captain said nervously. "Haunted? With what I've seen, I wouldn't doubt it," Tacitus said, casting a glance over his shoulder. "I knew a sailor would know when something's up." He glanced around his side carefully "I've heard tales about maids disappearing, and then reappearing the next day with teeth marks strange ghostly moaning, and mysterious rope burns." "Sounds like hogwash. Ghosts have been well studied by mages who can summon them, and if you had ghosts, you'd know. They're not as subtle as people think," Maori said. "My mother was a mage. Conjuration was her specialty. Didn't help her any though when it came down to it." "Well i'm a simple soldier. I keep a fine distance away from the supernatural." "That doesn't sound quite like the ghosts of sailors' tales, but these city ghosts may be different. Who knows what goes on in these halls..." Tacitus said, someone eerily, not knowing what did in fact go on inside the palace. Gracchus, however, suspected something else was at work. "I think there is something at play here, although it may be less supernatural than you believe." "Yeah like what?" "Oh nothing, just a old man mouth's running," Gracchus said, hiding a brief, sly smile. "I bet my mother would agree," Maori said. "Making oneself seem more interesting than one actually is." The captain adopted an amused look,"You are aware, I was the one guarding her door last year General Ceno? And only perverts bring that stuff up in civil conversations." He didn't say who the her was but Grahhcus knew. "I was unaware, but since I am now aware you know to why I speak. I'm sure everyone here does, it is not exactly an Albecias Plebo novel," Gracchus said, referring to the recently famous mystery author, whose partially fictional stories, The Windhelm Butcher and Gold of Sancre Tor captivated Cyrodiil's attention, filling the previously unknown niche of guard-solving-mystery novel. "If it was a mystery, you'd be just the guard to figure it out." "Regardless, the walls here are sound proof. I really doubt someones...ehem part before the epilogue is that loud." "If the gods have any mercy, they'll strike me down before I have to listen to anymore of this," Tacitus said, glancing up at the ceiling. "Nothing? Not even a little fireball or some thunder?" "I'd have to agree, this took a turn for the weird back when we began discussing ghosts, and has only gone rapidly downhill from there," Gracchus added. Captain Imperius chuckled, before raising his hand to stop them. They were at the Empresses's study room, he gently knocked at the door. "Your Majesty?" A voice as cold as steel came from the door, "Yes, Captain Imperius?" The imperial officer cleared his throat, and said "High Admiral Tacticus and General Ceno have returned, your majesty." Her voice didn't change, "Ahhhh, excellent. Please send them in." The Captain opened the door for the group of three. Gracchus led the way, walking into the office of the empress. Bowing, he said, "Your majesty. I have news from Hammerfell, although my trip was rather brief." Tacitus followed, awkwardly bowing as he wasn't as accustomed to it. "Your majesty, I hope my return isn't too much of a shock." The Empress was sitting at her large oak desk. Her blonde hair was messily done, and she had huge black bags under her pale blue eyes, which were stone cold, there was no enthusiasm, or energy on her. She wore a simple grey dress, and no jewelry. In her own way, she would be normally a very attractive person, she however, looked a good deal older then what her age suggested. "General Ceno." She gave him a slight nod, before scanning Tacticus, her face was emotionless as was her voice "I had begun to search for a replacement for you. Glad to see your still among the living...my condolences... for your arm...." "Thank you, although..." Tacitus began to roll the sleeve up, revealing the stump was only at the wrist, "I didn't lose the whole arm, just the hand. As for me being here, you have Maori to thank for that, he helped me escape, otherwise I'd be hidden on the jungle somewhere." "Captured by the dominion eh?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously for a millisecond, before becoming stoic one again. She turned her head to the Bosmer, "Then I thank you sir. Without you, the empire would be lacking it's High Admiral, and I would have to spend three weeks doing the paper work for a replacement." Maori took note of that. It made it sound like it wouldn't have been any more of an inconvenience to her, but he was a little forgiving due to her enervated state. It wasn't at all what he expected to see, but she was young and this was clearly a big job. "So does that mean Tacitus will be receiving a boat and he can go back to work? That's really the only reason I've come and put myself in such out of place surroundings for myself. Any questions I can answer, I'd be glad to if it in some way helps." "As long as Tacticus can handle the position, I see no reason to sack him." She glanced curiously at the Bosmer, "What region was he held in exactly?" "He came from an old Imperial fort they renamed Fort Kalamon, southwest of Elden Root near the border of Elsweyr," Maori said. "From what I can tell, that's where they'll be keeping the high end prisoners from the human provinces. Easy to ship them off to sea from Haven nearby if they have to." "Well, at least one of us knows...all I remember was washing ashore in Elsweyr, then heading west upon capture," Tacitus said with a frown. "Can you mark it on a map for me?" She asked Maori, taking out a medium sized map of Valenwood. Maori pointed a finger at a sort of small traingled point that went from Valenwood's border to Elsweyr's. "Here. It had a decent enough force there when I was there, but from the looks of it, it may be getting set up as a command center. If that's the case, then we got him out at the best time possible. Any longer and there'd be no chance of getting to him. Anyone who goes there now will likely be there for good." She marked it with a pen, "My Spymaster would be eager to know this. Thank you." She gave him a polite nod, "If there's anyway I can repay you?" "No offense, but I recommend you order your spymaster not to try anything. Empire spies are rather easy to spot out, since the Blades are no longer around, and the place is very deep in Dominion territory. I only got in because the place was just being established, and I was stalking their general for months. Oculatus need a few decades of practice as a spy organization before they can reach that caliber again. As for repaying me, nothing really comes to mind, but I thank you for the offer." "My Spymaster would agree with you, the Occultus is highly incompetent." She took out a small bottle of wine and several cups, "Shall you all have a drink?" "No thank you," Gracchus said politely. "I'd rather cut straight to business, if you don't mind." "I'll take one. You have any whiskey? I find wine too fruity for my taste," Tacitus replied. "You want the hardcore stuff?" She put away the fruity beverage, and took out a Cyrdoilic brandy labelled "White Dragon", pouring a glass for the man. Tacitus downed the whole thing in one swig, smiling after it went down. "It's been too long...tastes better than I had hoped." Gracchus pulled a letter from his pocket, setting it on Dales' desk. "For you, your majesty. It's from High General Red-Snow, whom I'm sure you remember." "Been my best friend for the last month." The empress said, taking a swing herself from the bottle. She grabbed the letter from Gracchus and read it, "Yes the Nord who joked about raping my maid." She put it on her desk after a few seconds of reading, "Hmmmm, this is thrice a higher up has recommended your promotion, making friends all over I see." "It does appear that way. As for the mission in Hammerfell, it was resolved rather quickly because the Nords had sent a delegation as well, and seeing how they were on better terms with the Redguards, I left them too speak on behalf of our alliance. It seemed the best decision, and one they agreed with, so I left it at that," Gracchus said plainly, no nonsense in his voice. Maori had to chuckle at that, as well as the comment about Baldur making fun of her maid. "Not surprising though." "And you trust that they will?" She said, her voice having an edge of steel that was uncharacteristic of a girl her age, "Like I said, they are on much better terms than us, and they have recent dealings with them. If you recall, they had a Redguard contingent with them in Skyrim. They also seemed better prepared, as my arrival was rather...unwelcome," Gracchus said, equally as hard as Dales. "I dont trust Baldur. I trust you though, so good work. After Mede abandoned Hammerfall, I doubt they would want to engage in a dialouge with us anyways. " Hearing the Bosmer's comment, Dales turned around sharply, and her eyes filled with burning fury, "What do you mean not surprising?! Miku was a strong girl, I find it not funny at all that she was scared out of her wits about what happened in Whiterun." Maori smirked, then said, "I was actually talking about the difficulties the hero general, here had with the Nords. They're a stubborn lot. Redguards...even moreso. They make a cute couple. As for the girl, I mean no disrespect, as I don't know her. But, if she feared rape around the general of the entire Stormcloak army in a city they're defending, one that wants to be defended...well. I'd have to question her common sense." "I trust him, and respect him, and I doubt he'll do anything to harm the alliance. He's smart, and knows better than to start anything now," Gracchus said sternly. Calming down, and adopting her serene and melancholy look like before she said, "Alot of civilians will believe quite bit. They're devoid of common sense. Forgive me for my outburst." She turned her head to Gracchus, "I'll ask you this General, are you sure you want the position? This will be tiring, consuming, and dangerous" "No, actually, I'm not sure. I don't know that I'll be what the Empire needs, I don't know that I won't live up to the overwhelmingly high expectations, I don't know that I will survive to even lead our men. But I do know that I will not falter, that I will give my dying breath to Cyrodiil, and I will remain loyal to the Heartland, or the gods strike me down," Gracchus said, a brief smile flickering across his face and a slight twinkle in his eye. "That was lovely general. Now why don't you pull your skirt up and run along, I'm sure there are some dolls you could play with," Tacitus jokes of course, as he really found Gracchus' intentions to be quite noble. Maori said, "I don't know this man, but my friend that scared your maid is a very smart individual. If he says he's your man, I'd take his word for it. And, I haven't heard of any recent activities from your other generals. Besides going rogue and so on. Seems pretty obvious to me. Especially since loyalty is a problem lately, and this guy's obviously loyal." "Cut the speeches already." She waved her hand, "I was already considering give General Ceno before all these recommendations came in. I however, need to be absoutley sure of your priorities." "My priorities? What priorities could be called into question, your majesty?" Gracchus asked, slightly perplexed. "I'm afraid I'm unsure of what you're asking." "You need to be completely devoted to the job, and to your duties as my top military officer . I will be working you like a packmule, General. In other words very long nights in the office, inspections of the troops, your usual duties times twelve. You will also be expected to interact with the nobility, and the Elder council quite a bit." She let those words sink in before continuing. "You are a lord. My knight of Roses. I've tolerated your...distaste for the nobility, since I know your discomfort for them. But I wont be able to if you accept this position. You will also need to unite all the legions, Lilly has been whispering to me rumors of unrest and Rebellion in the various legions of the imperial army, you'll need to put them down, anyway you can." "I can assure you, my lady, my entire devotion will be to my job. My wife is already used to not seeing me, but she seems quite busy, even in retirement, with her still running the inn while also managing a household," Gracchus said, but stopped and cleared his throat before continuing. "As for the nobles, I believe I've moved past my previous reluctance to communicate with them, what with my meetings with Count Bathory and Count Brutus, along with Lord Adrard and Governor Jeleen. I assure you, I will have no problems with the nobles, even if I'm still reluctant to over associate with them, lest some of their uglier qualities rub off. As for the disgruntled legions, I've heard of them as well, and have a plan in place." "That bastard Lorgar left his large information web extremely tangled, presumably purposely to sink into the shadows more easier. And Lilly network is strained already, so you'll mostly have to rely on your gut, and the men still loyal in these legions to gather intel. I will ask you one last time, are you sure you can handle this position?" "I'm sure I'll give my all to the cause, and that's all any of us can say about anything. If I must, my entire life will be spent here. Also, I agree Lorgar left a mess when he left, including making enemies of all his former friends, it seems," Gracchus said confidently, every part the general he was. "I'd have to agree with the previous recommendations," Tacitus said, halfway through his fourth glass of whiskey, which showed in the way he swung the glass about when talking. "I was newly a captain, unproven even, when I was appointed High Admiral. It worked out well enough, I suppose." "And the bodies of an entire Occultus Taskforce. The Wolf's dark thoughts are his own, so we cannot judge, i'm afraid." She added sadly, "I suppose congratulations are in order then, High-General Ceno." Gracchus turned to Tacitus, and to Maori, kindly asking, "Would you mind giving us a moment alone?" Tacitus rose, setting his glass down. "Let's go Maori, I know of some bars that stay open pretty late. I'll show you a grand Cyrodiilic time!" Thank the gods. "Right behind you, bud. Nice meeting you, Empress," said Maori. She seemed fine enough, but the formality in the place was killing him. She gave him a surprising smile, before adding dryly to the bosmer, "It's good to have someone shorter then me around here." Once the duo had left Gracchus smiled at the empress. "I appreciate your willingness to give me the job, but wouldn't it be more prudent to wait on your soon to be husband to make such a monumental decision? You could of course give me interim status, so we no longer have to operate without a High General, but I know my wife would kill me if I were to make any decisions without her. And from what I gather, he's to be given greater duties than just Court Mage and consort. I don't presume to tell you your job, but decisions like these shouldn't be made on a whim." Her eyes narrowed cooly, ignoring him she said."I see. So you do know. Who was it who told you,Lorgar, or Tullius?" "Lorgar," Gracchus said, frowning a bit. She gave him a pained look, and a humorless smile, "From the letters I found in Tullius's office, he also informed Tullius that..lord Snow-Strider was a stormcloak, leaving the former part out despite obviously knowing." "He is?" Gracchus asked, completely taken aback, as evidenced by his furrowed brow and arched eyebrows. "I had no idea." "The paranoia got to him. He was rambling quite a bit in his diary. This piece of information most likely drove him to his betrayal." She stretched out her arms , "Lorgar taught me the art of hunting. He always said, they were three parts of it that mattered most." She raised hand, and raised her fingers according to the number she said, "One, Misdirection." "Two, Distraction." "Three...Deception." "Well, what I said still stands. I accept the job on an interim basis, but I advise you wait to make the permanent decision," Gracchus said in a soft, fatherly tone. "Then wait for the court mage to finalize it then." She said, glancing at the wall. "Everything alright, Empress?" Gracchus asked, concerned. "Nothing is alright, Gracchus." She said, looking sad, her face filled with emotion "Hey...do...you mind I you listen to me? Lilly offered, but I know I can trust you." "I don't mind, not at all," Gracchus said with a smile, taking a seat in a chair. Although I could be home with my wife, which would be a much more welcome homecoming,he thought, but maintained the grin. "Everyone I seem to care about...just dies or leaves me. Elan, Miku, Lorgar,Tullius....Homunal" She gripped her stomach hunching forward on her chair, "I can still feel her blade thrusting into my body. I feel...like it would have been better if I simply died." "You can't think like that Dales," Gracchus spoke freely, knowing this was more important than custom and titles. "We cannot control what hand we are dealt in this lifetime, but we can control when we play out cards. You can't control the past, but you can shape the future, and not just your own but a whole province's. That's something special, a once in a thousand lifetime opportunity." "But is that me...or him?" "I dare say that's both of you. He can't be emperor without you, just like you need his insight and experience. You're a team, a partnership, weaker apart than you are together. I don't know much about him besides the time we spent in Skyrim together, and the few meetings we've had here, and from what I've seen there are worst marriage prospects out there. Give him a chance, that's what I say." "You don't know him like how I do. But regardless, I doubt I'll ever be truly happy with him. It doesn't matter, duty comes first after all." "I don't suppose I do know him, really, at least not in the way that you do. Positions of power rarely give us both duty and happiness, usually forsaking the latter for the former. Whatever the case may be between you two, I hope you can resolve it so it does not interfere with the running of Cyrodiil." Dales just silently starred off into space, before muttering, "You're excused General Ceno, I'm sure you're tired and would like to return to home." "Don't let it bother you too much," Gracchus said, rising and bowing before leaving. He stood outside the door, leaning against the wall, head slightly hung. Poor girl...she's had too much thrust upon her for someone her age. She's seems abnormally sad, even with all the stress though...I hope nothing is wrong. Gathering himself from his thoughts, he walked off down the stairs, his boots tapping in a rhythmic pattern as he descended. ** Seat once again on Lil Ceno, Gracchus rode up to his house, nestled just north west of the Imperial City along with several other houses, forming a pleasant community. With the sun just setting, he could see Catia sitting on the front porch, easel pointed west at the brilliantly purple, red, orange and yellow sky that was nothing short of beautiful. Just like her, nothing short of beautiful, Gracchus thought with a smile, around the same time Catia realized she had a visitor. Turning, her eyes squinted, until a visibly shocked expression overtook her face, causing her to drop the paints in her hand. He ran out to the road, with the spirit of a filly, where she was met with the wide open arms of her husband, twirling her around. Locked in a wonderful embrace, the stared I to each others eyes for what seemed like hours, not saying anything. Eventually the annoyed whinnying of Lil Ceno interrupted their lovers embrace, as the horse had no time for humans and their intimacy. "Someone wants us to get a room, I think," Gracchus said with a sly smile. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd put him up to it," Catia said, the largest smile she'd ever worn on her face. "Lets not disappoint him," Gracchus said, leading Catia by one hand while passing off Lil Ceno to a nearby stable hand. He then picked Catia up, slinging her his shoulder while she laughed like a young woman as he ran I to the house, climbing the stairs as quickly as possible, setting her on their bed before shutting the door.

Avitus Agrippa, Two and a Half years Ago "Attention" Said Legate Agrippa Avitus, glancing around at the assembled soldiers in the mess hall. Clearly not hearing him, he raised his voice, and yelled out aggressively "Legionaries stand at attention!!!" Each and every one of them stopped what they were currently doing, got out of their seats, straightened their backs, and saluted the officer, with a tide of worried, "Legate, sir." ‘s The imperial legionary strode forward, clad in full battle gear. He wore straight steel imperial heavy armor, along with a red tunic underneath. He had armored greaves and gauntlets, also carry with him underneath his arm a steel imperial officer helm, which had a horse hair mane painted red. At his side was an ancient looking imperial gladius, which had the words "Lupus ovina" carved onto its blade, along with a steel dagger. He spoke in a clear and commanding voice, "Most of you've heard the rumor High King Torggy, Lord of Skyrim, has been assassinated. Unfortunantley, those rumors are true. I've just gotten word that he was murdered by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm." The military silence broke, and the crowd started to mutter among themselves, but were stopped by Avitus raising his hand warily, "That's not all. Ulfric has declared himself High King, and splintered Skyrim." That caused a huge uproar, with soldiers raising there voices. Agrippa had to calm them down again, "His Majesty, Emperor Titus II Mede, has deployed parts of the sixth legion to crush the usurper, and has ordered General Fury-Sword, along with half of the second, to the Bruma border, due to the likely hood of riots from the local nords.. Including us. We are to leave right away." That did it, everyone in the room began to rush from the room, intending to head to the barracks to get outfitted. *** "You are not going." Agrippa said, with his voice practically oozing anger. His wife, Maria shook her head, giving him a pleading look, "It's not your decision Agrippa, i've already requested my old position back, General Tullius accepted it." He put his arms up in annoyance, "It's only been three months. Three months since you gave birth to Ephemia. I'm not just going to let you enter that warzone." Maria gave him a slight smile, and put her hand to his shoulder, "Your making too much of a big deal. General Tullius assured me he wouldn't be sending me to a frontline position. I'll just be with a small unit of men in Whiterun, which is officially neutral. I wont be any danger. I would never leave you and Ephie, you know that." Two years, and one month ago, "Titus Mede II is dead," "What!?" Yelled out Legate Avitus, who was busy writing a requisition form. Avitus's second, Tribune Artorias nodded his head solemnly, "Assassinated. Amaund Moitre, count of Sutch, has taken over." Avitus got out of his seat, shaking his desk, "We need to speak to General Fury-sword immediately." Artorias gave him a sad look, as he stretched his hand forward, showing a sealed scroll. Avitus looked at him, and grabbed it rather hastily, after noticing the seal of the 4th legion. After opening it, he scanned, To Legate Avitus Agrippa, Second Legion It is my regret to inform you, of your wife, Tribune Marie Agrippa's passing. She was killed by Rebel forces during the Siege of Whiterun. I...I dont knowing anything behind the circumstances of her death, except she was with the medical corps when she was felled. You and your daughter will receive compensation. Yours, General Gaius Tullius, Fourth Legion, Avitus rammed his fist into the wall, screaming in rage, and before the Prefect could do anything, he turned over his desk. **** Bruma One and Half years ago "Freedom-" The rioter was cut off by a pilum embedding itself into the man's throat. Avitus drew his Gladius, while holding his shield up in his right hand. Everything was chaos. His Cohort was being overwhelmed by the sheer number of nords. The winter blizzard, along with his helmet obstructed his vision, but he could see bodies among the streets everywhere, including both rioters and legionaries. Filthy savages. Another one, a nord clad in hides ran forward, attempting to bring his axe down on Avitus, who quickly brought up his tower shield to block the strike. The axe landed on the steel with a thud. Avitus quickly slashed at the man with his Gladius. The nord side stepped away from the legion officer, while shouting, "Arkay take you!!!!." He ran forward again, this time tackling Avitus to the ground, using his full body weight. Avitus landed hard, along with full weight of his armor. The nord roared , sending his salvia onto Avitus's furry filled, he tried smashing his axes head into Avitus, whom's head avoided the blow. Still holding onto his steel Gladius, Avitus stabbed his blade into the man's exposed throat. With a growl, the nord let out a last breath of air, before falling limp. Avitus with a yell threw the corpse off his body, Standing tall, he shouted, "Hold this position-†An arrow found it's mark into Avirtus's shoulder, causing him to sputter out random words, and knocked him back. He grimly grabbed the arrow's shaft, finding it not buried deep into his flesh, he ripped it out. Scanning the battlefield, he could see his troops struggling against the bulk of the rebel force. So this is the end... A large nord, clad in chainmail strode forward with a nordic greatsword in hand, apparently intending to finish the imperial soldier, but stopped as a black arrow entered into his chest, sending him tumbling into the ground. "For the Legion, for the Empire!!!", could be heard, along with the sound of trumpets. Suddenly the rioters began to withdraw, as dozens of legionaries charged from behind Avitus, bearing the banners of the sixth legion. A man with greyish-black hair, was in the front line, clad in the gold armor of an imperial general, having a customized hint of purple on his chest piece. Beside him, was a very tall, bulky man, clad in a pitch black leathercoat/dark hood, who was carrying a drawn bow. Her muttered quietly, "It seems we arrived in the nick of time Marius." The man, who Avitus now knew as Marius Imperius, general of the sixth legion, strode forward duel-wielding two imperial shortblades. "Men, kill these rebel scum in the name of the Dragon. Forward." *** Currently "Dispose of this treachery, General," Legate Avitus said, crossing his arms. "You dont speak to me like that, Legate." Said General Fury-Blade, getting angry. Avitus aggressively spoke, "We're soldiers. We follow orders. You followed your orders when Amaund was in power, you follow orders when his daughter is in power." "Dales? She isn't anything but a girl. A weak girl who whores around." "General!!! She is the Empress. You will treat her majesty with respect.†The general laughed darkly, “She obviously has no respect for herself. You’ve heard the rumors haven’t you? She’s a lesbian ****.†“What her majesty does in her spare time is no concern to me and should be no concern to you. What reasons would you have to replace her? With who? Tullius thought the same, and look what happened to his miserable head. “I won’t make the same mistake-“ Avvitus cut him off, “You shouldn’t be making this mistake at all. Mark my words, “sirâ€, this will end in your beheading if you choose to follow this path.â€

Stalks-Deep-Waters Nightgate Inn Early afternoon Stalks opened the door to the inn. It was a rather traditional inn with a long hearth in the middle of the house and tables along the walls. The counter with the innkeeper was at the far end of the room. Not many people in the inn apart from the innkeeper. Stalks walked up to the hearth first and stretched out his hands to warm them up from the cold weather outside. After a minute of warming up his hands he approached the innkeeper. "Good day. I'm looking to trade and for some information." "Yer in luck then, lizard. Hadring can't keep his mouth shut to save his life." Or others... said, a Nord man in simple brown farmer's clothing said. "You hush that, Fultheim and keep a mug in your mouth! Ignore him. Now, what kind of info are you searching for, traveler?" Stalks gave the nord farmer a quick glance and then turned back to the innkeeper. "I'm looking for a bandit leader named Lilith, she's a dark elf." At the mention of that name, the innkeeper's face turned sallow as his cheery expression went haggard. It was clear the man knew of who he spoke. "I may have heard some rumors, but they're just that. I don't know where that devil is, but I know one thing. You'd best just go and ignore that one, Argonian. Especially you. She takes an interest in your kind especially from what I hear...I have heard rumors of why, but as I said, they're just rumors." While the Nord spoke, he quickly wrote on a small piece of paper and passed it to him under a mug. It said that her hideout was in Ironbind Barrow, and that every so often one of her men would come in strange armor they claimed was dragonscale armor of all things, and they threatened him with his life if he didn't help keep their whereabouts a secret. Some of them even sneaked into his room just to prove a point. He was risking his life helping him out with this task. It told him which direction to go as well to reach them, and if he cleared the weirdos out, he'd get a free night of drinks on him. "So, is there anything else I can help you with? Some spiced wine to warm the blood perhaps? Or some mead? I'm about to pull out another batch soon, aged since before the civil war." Slipping the note into one his many pockets he had on him, Stalks then hauled his backpack onto the counter. "I also want to trade. Got a lot of fresh wolf meat." The Nord gave him a deplorable look. "We Nords don't eat wolf meat, boy. Not since Lady Mara granted Sai the ability to take their form." "Got some salt for sale then? Got to keep the meat preserved." The Nord brought out five small pouches of salt and placed them on the counter. "Fifteen gold for all of them. Can't sell more, I need it for my own meats." "Fair enough." Stalks said and picked up and carefully counted fifteen coins that he then put on the counter. He then opened the backpack and started preparing the meat with the first pouch of salt. When he was done he still had two pouches of salt left that hanged by the belt among the other pouches and pockets and closed the backpack and put it back over the shoulder. "And about her." Stalks then lowered his voice and leaned a little closer. "Maybe you should report some of her crimes anonymously and get her a higher bounty. In case I fail, a higher bounty would attract more mercenaries." The Nord pondered that, though if it got out to Lilith that her bounty increased, he was sure she'd know. The man's nervous face turned stern as he said, "Got it. I'll get to it if you don't return here in a day's time." Better take it slow then. "I'll be going soon then." Stalks then turned around and took a few steps to the hearth to warm himself up fully before going out in the cold again. Afterwards, Hadring went back to his duties for a while. Eventually some more people came in, and started demanding more mead, so Hadring went down into the cellar and filled some more bottles from the keg. After he came back up, the thirsty Nords practically threw him their gold so they could hurry up and drink. This wasn't particularly unusual, and he didn't even bother to count the gold, knowing in a few moments, they'd be shelling out more coin and too drunk to stop. Stalks tried not to pay much attention to the nords and sat down on a bench, pulled off his boots from his somewhat strangely shaped legs and held the feet up to the fire. At first Stalks didn't pay much attention to his surroundings till he noticed that that farmer Fultheim was looking at his feet like he was some kind of freak. "Never seen an argonian's feet before?" And Stalks almost had to yell to not have his words drowned in the loud chatter of the drinking nords that had just come in. Fultheim was always somewhat tipsy, so while normally he'd no better than to stare, today he didn't really care. "Nope. Can't say I have," he said simply, not at all sure if he spoke loudly enough to be heard. The Nord's mug was empty, so he stood up now to get another bottle for it, though something he could notice even in his desensitized state stopped him from doing so. "What in the hell's wrong with you?" he asked another surly Nord nearby. The man's face looked like it was about to implode on itself as he held a shaky mug of mead to his face, then suddenly dropped it on the table. From the looks of it, the man didn't even drink a drop, and after the mead spilled, everyone knew why. "Gah, that mead smells like an Orc's ass!" Fultheim said. The man who almost drank it suddenly lost his stomach contents, unfortunately adding to the already rancid smell. Stalks chuckled at the event at how the nords couldn't hold their dear little mead. Then he stretched out his legs so they got a bit abnormally long and the three big and slightly curved front claws on his feet scrapped against the stone around the hearth. He then pulled them back before burning his feet off and started dragging the boots onto the feet. After a minute of trying to get leather boots, that was originally made for humans, on comfortably, he got up from the bench and started walking towards the door. "What's all the fuss about?" said Hadring. "No one insults my mead, damnit." By now, the Nords that just recently bought a bottle started to look at theirs as though it could blow up any second. One woman slowly opened hers and took a whiff, then quickly turned her nose away. "Give me that!" the innkeeper said angrily. After he took it away, he started looking around at the other Nords who were all waiting for him to try it himself. The whole tavern went quiet and watched as Hadring nodded his head and ruffled his lips beneath his beard, as if to say 'Now watch me.' But before Hadring could even take a sip, the smell threatened to knock him cold. His hesitation was enough for the other tavern dwellers, and they all started grumbling and rising from their seats. "Now hold on just a second! I-It's not so bad! Look!" Hadring forced himself to take a sip, and as soon as he did, his neck muscles tightened up as he retched himself on the stone floor. Stalks stopped as he was about to turn the handle on the door when the ruckus caused him to turn and look at the innkeeper. He lingered for a moment before deciding to go back or he'd never get those free stuffs and a possible raise on the bounty. He snatched a mug of mead from the counter and smelled it briefly before dipping his tongue in it and then quickly spitting it out on the floor. "Rot and bile." He said briefly and indifferently. "Either that or your supplier got some really weird spices. Hey, are you going survive?" Stalks tilted his head a little as he looked at the innkeeper. The Nord was still coughing up whatever was left in him when he gave Stalks-Deep-Waters a bewildered look. "Bollocks!" he said, though he didn't stay to argue, and instead ran towards the cellar door coughing the entire way down. A long time passed as the man disappeared into the cellar again. When he finally came back up, he looked even paler than before when the Argonian mentioned Lilith's name. He took a seat in front of the merc at one of the tables, then said, "She knows. I don't know how....but that sick bitch knows." "Knows what?" Stalks asked, sounding a bit confused at it all. "S-She must know, t-that I told you! She somehow r-replaced my mead with another holding the Orc's...all this time he was missing, and she had him....Damnit, I don't know! Get out! Get out of my inn and take your trouble with you!" Hadring said all he was going to say. After what he saw in the cellar, he wasn't going to have anything to do with the Argonian anymore. He had long since wondered where his Orc customer had disappeared to a few years back. To him, the reappearance of the orsimer in his mead keg could only be the work of that Lilith and her rumored insanity. He didn't know how, and he didn't care how. "Get out!" Stalks shrugged. "Sure, I'll go. But my only trouble is that I'm a bit short on gold. Lilith is actually your problem." He then turned around and started walking towards the door again. "Hmph! You think you can squeeze coin from me? Forget it! I've had enough of this. Threaten my life, that's one thing, but no one messes with my mead! If she wants to send me to Sovngarde, then so be it. I'll be waiting for her if you won't take care of it." Hadring stood from the table and walked over to where he kept his farmer's axe in a corner, then walked back down into the cellar to dispose of his ruined batch of mead. The coin better be worth it. Stalks then left the warmth of the inn and headed out in the cold weather. At least the wind was calm and the sun shone bright in the sky and gave of a little heat. He walked around the inn till he reached the main road and from there it was to head north for a while and then head off the beaten path up the mountain. It wasn't far till he reached the point he was heading up a dirt road dotted by piles of rocks that had a piece of cloth attached to the top. If the directions was right, he would at the end reach a cave entrance that would lead to the barrow. And true enough, at the end of the path was a ancient nordic wall with a gateway and behind it wastwo huge rocks leaning against each other among some nordic stone pillars and between the leaning rocks was the cave entrance. Going inside was an option but he didn't like the idea of walking into a trap. But figuring out a plan of action had to wait as his belly started to grumble. He gathered some firewood and picked out a spot a bit to the far left of the cave. While he wasn't hidden from anyone walking outside of the cave, he had a nice lookout over it and he would be able see anyone walking out before they would spot him. The wind wasn't blowing so lighting the fire wasn't much of a hassle and when the fire had shaped up he rolled up his backpack and put some of the meat on a sharp stick and started to roast it over the fire. He ate as much as he could as the meat was plentiful. Which was also a downside as he had only taken so much as he expected to trade it all off for something lighter. He moved some of the meat from the backpack to another smaller bag he kept alongside the backpack, the bag actually used to store food. As he sat there eating the meat he contemplated how to manage the logistics. When he was filled on the meat he still had some left that didn't fit into the food bag, and while having lots of food was nice in a way, it was also a burden to carry around. He then got an idea of what to do with the extra meat. He sharpened another stick and impaled the meat on it and the one he had just used. Put them over the fire and slowly started to roast them as he picked up his mortar and some herbs he had in his pocket. While it wouldn't be as potent as with an alchemy lab, he had learnt the skill to practice alchemy with the bare minimum of tools available. When the meat was done he poured the little concoction over it all. A nice little paralysis poison that while not freezing the victim completely, it would cause severe movement and speech problems. He leaned the stick against a rock near the fire and walked away and hid behind another rock further away. Bandit life was tough and free roasted meat was certainly something they wouldn't say no to. Now it was only to wait. But it could take a while so he tried to make comfortable where he now was crouching among the rocks. "No, let us go! Where are you taking us?" He heard coming from the cave some time later. "Shut it, lizard. That's the tenth time you've asked." "I told you we should have just killed them." "Go ahead and be my guest. I'm sure Lilith wouldn't mind. Go ahead, asshole!" said an Orc in scaly spiked armor. The attire sure enough looked like dragon scale armor, though the coloring wasn't all the same, and the patch work was lazy. The Nord alongside him was dragging a sniveling little argonian girl, maybe sixteen winters in the snow behind him by her shirt. "Bah, you know I'm just kidding. After what she did to Hamren..." "Shh! Don't talk about that. I've still got nightmares...to be honest, ever since that happened, I've been thinking about leaving this place. It's getting too crazy for me. But then...the gold..." the Orc looked down at his dragonscaled gauntlet in disgust. "This is far and beyond what I ever expected to be doing, but at least all we have to do is sell the armor. The people around these parts are so stupid, they'll believe anything! Though I have to admit, the armor is a good likeness. "Yea, and who cares anyway? These Argonians are no better than beasts themselves. If it gets me gold, and I don't have to see it, then so be it. Hey, is that a fire up ahead? We didn't post any scouts right?" "Not that I'm aware of. Be careful, could be some stupid adventurer not knowing we're here. Watch these two while I investigate," said the Orc bandit. He dropped his bound Argonian prisoner by the Nord, then drew a steel great sword, which he dragged on the ground behind him as he approached the camp with the cooking meat. "Hey, come here! Free food!" Stalks tried to stretch his legs as much as he could behind the rock while getting seen, he felt a bit stiff from having crouched for some time. He waited while the bandits began feasting on the wolf meat. Somehow he didn't blame them, he would have done the same if he found some cooked food right there for the taking. Fortunate for him at least was that he didn't need to worry that much about poisons, something the bandit's would fins themselves much more unfortunate about. A couple of minutes went by and when they began burping and throwing the sticks on the fire, he pulled his spear from his back and ran forth. As expected the bandits were slow to notice him and slower to react. The closest bandit, the nord, got the lower end of the spear through the throat and the orc had just gotten up when Stalks pounced him to the ground with the middle of the spear. Now crouching right above the orc, he pressed the middle of the spear against his throat while holding his head right above the orc's, opening the needle filled mouth and hissing lowly at the bandit. "Hello." Stalks then said a low and slightly amused voice. The Orc grew furious from his vicissitude, but from the spear pressed upon his throat, the Orcimer could not do much for the time being but look at the ugly Argonian's mug. Irony. "Screw you, lizard. Send me to Ashpit already. I've already killed plenty of your kind, hehehe." "Not just yet. You are going to tell me everything you know about what I am to expect inside that cave." "Ha! And risk Lilith's wrath? Nothing you do to me can be worse than what she'd do. If you're looking to take her down...good luck, lizard." "Well you wont have to worry about her. You tell me all I want to know and your passing will be quick." The Orc was about to tell him to **** off, but then he decided it would be best to lie instead. "Fine, what is it you want to know, lizard?" "Everything." The orc began slowly creeping his hand to a nearby rock as he spoke. "Okay, thanks for being specific. Well, there's bandits inside...lots of 'em further in, lightly guarded. You could probably just walk in without much trouble." Stalks put the foot down on the orc's hand, not for the rock but to cause pain. The only thing that kept his hand from getting impaled on the claws was the leather boot. "Layout. Numbers. Equipment. Supplies. Traps. That everything." After the Orc snarled, he started thinking about the things the Argonian was asking. Finally, being tired of the predicament and seeing no way out, the Orc let out an ear splitting cry, then he opened his mouth to reveal his large tusks fully before finally clenching down with them to bite at and eventually chew off his own tongue. "Gggllaahhh!" Gurgling in pain was all he could manage before he spat the end of the blood covered muscle at Stalks. Slightly annoyed by the outbreak, Stalks let go of the spear and put both his hand against the jugulars at the orc's throat and pressed. A few seconds later the orc had passed out and he tilted the orc so lied on the side so the blood and tongue wouldn't suffocate him. Standing up he drew a heavy sigh. He then began the routine procedure of checking the pockets and inspecting the armor. He found about twenty Septims in the pockets but nothing else. At a closer inspection of the armor, he noticed that the scaled were quite small for having belonged to a dragon. It took him a few seconds to realize who the scales actually belonged to, but that was mostly because the nature of these scales were slightly different from his. Then he suddenly remembered the argonian girl. He looked in the direction where she had been but she was gone. Stalks shrugged and dragged the unconscious orc towards the fire. Well there he first began with feeding the fire some more wood before undressing the orc down to only the pants and pulling out his tongue and washing away some blood. Then grabbed the nord's iron axe and the orc's iron dagger and placed them into the fire and sat down on the orc's chest. More waiting. The orc didn't take too long to wake up, which when he did, he was clearly disappointed, as he expected to be dead. And to add insult to injury, an Argonian was now sitting on his chest. Realizing that, the Orc tried biting at the Argonian's leg fruitlessly, thrashing around as he did. "Couldn't you have stayed asleep a little bit longer for the iron to heat up? Anyway, no tongue doesn't stop an interrogation. You can still nod and shake your head. So I'm simply going to rephrase my questions to yes or no. So..." He punched the the orc hard in the belly to get him to stop thrashing around. He then hauled up a vial from a pocket, uncorked it and held it up to the orc's nose and quickly pulled it back so he wouldn't fall asleep again. Now with the calmed orc he pulled off his boots. Turning around so he sat astride atop the orc he stomped his feet on the orc's hands so they got impaled on the claws. "Are the intial guard group more than two?" Stalks said as he pulled forth his dagger, contemplating on where to start. The Orc seemed to know what the Argonian was about to do. Though he didn't look that scared despite that. The Orc stayed silent having a thoughtful expression while he did. "Not going to answer?" Stalks put the against his chest with the flat side lying against the skin. Then stuck it under the skin and slowly started cut up an entry point for the actual skinning. He made the entry point a dozen inches long and ran diagonally towards the shoulder. Once the entry point was done he pulled back the dagger and held it visibly to the orc. "A bit ironic isn't it? You know what's coming if you don't answer. So answer my question. Are the first guard group into the cave more than two?" The Orc predictably bawled out from his harrowing torment, thrashing around even more before, but of course it was once again fruitless. Against his will, his head nodded violently, saying 'yes'. "Good. Now are there any traps activated by pressure plates or wires on the floor?" The Orc looked at him sternly and got another slightly thoughtful expression. After another moment the Orc kept his silence and closed his eyes, looking to be readying himself for the next cut. "Not going to answer?" He slid the tip under of the dagger under the skin and then pulled it back to clean off the blood and put it back in the sheath. Instead he reached for the iron dagger that had been lying in the fire. Holding the blade with the flat side almost touching the skin while the tip sunk deeper in under the skin has he started the flay the orc alive. When he removed the the dagger and put it back in the fire he had cut a triangle with one side still attached to the body. Stalks grabbed the corner near the middle of the chest and pulled it to the side so the piece of skin now hanged at the orc's side, with the scorched flesh underneath now exposed to the elements." Should I skin the rest of you and turn you into leather armor?" The orc's neck muscles were bulging out so much during the flaying from his violent clenching, that it looked as though he'd bust a blood vessel. During the torture, he made sure to shake his head to say no, so it seemed forced out of him as the truth to stop the torment. Stalks knew that barrows usually have quite a number of traps, so he had expected a nod. Maybe these were disarmed by the bandits but there were also a chance that the orc was lying. "Do you have much gold stored in the hideout?" The orc nodded eagerly, much more eagerly than he had been at answering any of the other questions. "Are there people more well armed than iron or steel weapons and your leather armor. Or should I say 'dragonscale armor'?" The Orc nodded his head anyway, with the look in his eyes like if that question bored him. "Are there any archers?" "Mmhmm!" said the Orc, shaking his head impatiently. Stalks now sat pondering what more he could ask but with the format of his questions being limited, he couldn't come up with anything. "Well then.." He said as he lifted his feet while shaking the hands off from the claws. Once he got up he put one foot on the open wound on the orc's chest while picking up the axe from the fire. "A quick death was it." He raised the axe but then he moved the foot from the chest to the leg. And the axe fell, cutting off the foot and the heat from the axe scorched the stump on the leg so there wouldn't be any bleeding from it. "But that was before you bit off your tongue and I knew what your armor was made from." The Orc predictably wailed out into the open air, almost howling from his senses being overwhelmed with white hot pain. He started to laugh hysterically even, and eventually he blacked out. Though before he did, he managed to get one last glimpse that gave him another reason to laugh at his predicament, and it came in the form of several archers nearby; bandits who overheard the screaming. Stalk also noticed the archers and cursed his clumsiness for not remembering to gag the orc. Quickly throwing the axe at the bandit to give them a distraction he then quickly grabbed a potion from his pockets that was reserved for emergency situations only. Drinking it he suddenly disappeared from sight as he became invisible. Drawing his spear he quickly walked in a half circle towards the bandit's as light footed as he could. "Hnh, maybe Bruggash wasn't an idiot after all, looks like whoever did him in was just clever, judging from that potion... form a circle! Swords out!" said a Dunmer bandit. It was evident that not all of them were as idiotic as the doltish green brute who lay unconscious on the ground. Stalks walked further to the side and barely managed to get outside the circle that was forming. Now with the bandit's trying to circle him in where he wasn't he decided to sneak around and towards the cave. Luckily he still had most of his belongings with him but the boots were still by the fire. And when he came into the cave he wished that he had managed to grab them before drinking the potion. The first part of the cave was a long stretch with ice covered walls and cold stone and dirt on the ground. When the cave entrance was almost out of sight when the potion wore off. He gave a quick glance over the shoulder before disappearing behind a corner. When the small passage ended he came into a much larger room. The barrow entrance was underground and the large building with two stairs separated by small wall in the middle and with two large enough to walk on the sides along the cave walls. And at the top of the stair was a massive arch typical for nordic barrows. There were no bandit's in sight but that might change soon when the bandits outside give up their search for him. He began ascending the stairs as fast as he could without scraping the claws against the stone. Once atop the stairs he saw the doorway leading into the barrow. Inside the doorway was a room with two empty sarcophagi but draugr corpses in sight. In the middle of the room was grate. He put on foot on it to see if it was a trap but it didn't open. Looking down the grate he could see the floor of what appeared to be another room about two stories down. Then a bandit, a nord male in a patchy argonian scale armor, appeared down there and he seemed to be quite drunk or ill as he stumbled forth. He reached high for something to grab as he began to fall and his hand gripped a large ring that was hanging by a chain at the edge of the pitfall. Right beneath where Stalks where now standing. The grate fell apart to the sides and Stalks how had been having most of his weight on the foot that had been on the grate, now found himself quickly losing balance. He quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to regain balance enough to prevent the fall but he did manage to begin turning around when he fell. Turning half a circle he let go of the spear with one hand and latched onto the the ledge with the other. But it wasn't a good grip and he was literally hanging by the claws. Looking down on the bandit to see if the bandit had noticed anything he saw that the nord was instead very busy with throwing up his belly's content on the floor. Feeling the grasp of the ledge fading quickly Stalks made the split second decision and let go while aiming to land on the nord. The nord was still bending over when Stalks landed on him with on foot on the shoulder and the other near the rear. When the nord was pressed to the ground he could both hear and feel the crack on the nords spine as it took most of the impact. And the nord's body wasn't something steady to land on either so soon after the spine broke on the nord, Stalks lost balance as well and fell to the ground. The joy of surviving the fall and not landing on his own spear was soon replaced by the fear of that someone might have heard it all. Standing with with the spear ready he listened carefully for any sound of footsteps, not even noticing that he had one foot in the pool of vomit. When he was certain that no one was coming he looked down on his foot in disgust as he lifted it up from the vomit. He scrapped off most of the filth on the dead nord's back and then moved on in what he hoped was the right direction. He soon came to another corridor and this one was broader and had finer walls. Passing through the nice corridor he found it leading into a room to the right. He peeked around the corner to see what and who was in there. The room turned out to be much larger than what one would have expected, given the size of the previous corridors of the occupied barrow. It was a very large stone area, with one big staircase leading down to the bottom level in the middle and two walkways on each side going alongside the walls up to a plateau were a curved wall with strange lettering on it, almost like a grandiose gravestone etched into the wall. That wasn't the most interesting thing in the room, however. What was, was the row of tables in the middle of the room, and the evidently new shackles on the walls and what they held rows and rows of deceased and flayed Argonian bodies. Males and females and even some hatchlings. Not all of them were fully skinned. Some were only partly excoriated, seemingly for patches of the darker scales they possessed. In the middle of this abhorrently lurid scene was something even more shocking than the carcasses that decorated it. The presence of a lone woman tearing into the corpse of what appeared to be one freshly killed victim with black tools, ancient in appearance. The woman was staring at the body intensely, but was otherwise calm. She had a woolen cloth around her mouth, presumably to protect her mouth from any juices that might squirt up in her face. She was very much a Dunmer from her appearance. Piercing red eyes graced her fiercely intense glare, and her long black hair draped over the side of her face, showing off the other shaven side, and her elven ear, pierced with a small golden forked ring at the upper tip. Her armor was also peculiar, as it was different from the ones worn by the bandits before. The scales for one were much larger, and the patchwork was masterful, and the scales shared a uniform bronze, almost golden color. The woman was a bit of a sight to behold. Attractive, by human standards. If not for the bodies strewn about, one would not guess what activities she got up to. Lilith was starting to pick up the intensity of her tearing, and now she even started humming as she worked. Suddenly, the body she was cutting into reared up from its position on the table, and the Argonian let out such a horrid wail, that even the draugr that once roamed this barrow may have been taken aback if they were still shifting about to hear it. Lilith continued to hum however and she forced the victim back down, then cast a paralysis spell through his body, forcing him into the rigid state he was once in before from shock. The more abrasively invasive cuts made it unlikely that he'd rear up again. After he had figured out what the armor the orc had been wearing was made of, half the things he saw didn't surprise him. Disgusted but not really surprised. He had heard stories of what some land-striders sometimes did to his kind, especially the dark elves of Morrowind. He leaned back from the doorway and sheathed his spear and took the bow from his back and drew a steel arrow. With the arrow readied and pointing down, he took a deep breath and took a step out into the doorway for a clear shot, took aim and let the arrow go. Lilith didn't move from the spot she was in at all, so the arrow hit its mark directly where her heart would be. Though when her body jerked back from the hit, all she did was stop her cutting. Dropping the tools she was so feverishly working with, Lilith looked up at where the arrow came from, then pulled down her woolen cloth. "You know, I've been waiting for a chance to really test out this armor... I've been trying to replicate the quality, but with no success. The Nords don't seem to mind however, or at least they don't know any better. With the rise of the dragons, they're willing to take just about anything that even looks dragon-like for the novelty of it." Lilith pulled the arrow out from the thick scaly hide, then shoved it into the throat of the Argonian on the table. She didn't seem surprised by her guest at all. "So, I saw you with my spell, and I saw the shape of a tail. Are you shadow-scale? Sent for me by the Dark Brotherhood? Do you serve Sithis? I serve the Madgod, so I have already won. Or have you come to volunteer for my pet project?" Stalks had already readied another arrow when he saw what had stopped the previous one. Aiming this time for her head. "Neither." He said in a calm voice when he let the arrow go. Lilith smirked, then picked up the corpse she was mutilating with a telekinesis spell to block the arrow. After that, she threw the body towards his face with it before drawing her ebony sword from her back, a one handed blade. Jumping to the side he managed to dodge the body and he drew a third arrow. He took aim while trying to predict her movement and sent his last ranged attempt at taking her down flying. The arrow was shot as she shot the body, so this time the arrow did wound her. It skidded along her outstretched arm, the scales actually aiding it in its journey, then it ricocheted off from her limb, and past her head, cutting part of her ear. In her adrenaline heightened state, she hadn't felt it and she continued to throw bodies in his direction. "There's something I want to show you... a gift from the madgod! I saw a vision...of his time in the Shivering Isles!" "I don't care about you visions or your Madgod." Stalks shouted back in annoyance as he dodged body after body, hoping her magicka would soon run out. "Are you sure? You'll like it! He showed me a vision of a room, just like this one! And a fighter brave, just like you...green! Just like you....though he was an Orc. And do you know what happened to that Orc?" She finally stopped casting her spells, though it was probably not for running low on magicka. "I'll show you. For the Madgod provides, and he provided me with the location of a most interesting piece of architecture..." Suddenly, the Dunmer raised her hands with her blade in the air, and they began to glow a bright blue. When she dropped her hands, the wave of magicka swept through the entire room, though at first, nothing happened. A few moments later, all of the bodies within the room began to shift with life once more, even the ones shackled to the walls. "Oh come on." He shouted and now he was really annoyed. He reached for an arrow but soon found that the quiver was empty. Cursing loudly in Jel he put the bow stowed the bow away and drew his spear instead. With the spear ready he charged the woman while trying to trample down any bodies that hadn't fully risen. Lilith pushed two nearby bodies in front of her, laughing as though possessed by a daedra, then she ran past the horde of shifting bodies, adult and younglings alike to a small room with an ascending wooden staircase. Before she could be pursued, she pulled a chain from inside that made a steel barred door fall and lock into place behind her. "Bye bye, my sweet lizard. Have fun feeding your kinsmen!" Seeing as the chain opening the door on his end was broken he immediately turned around to see the now fully risen and aware of their surroundings. The first undead to try to attack him was a short youth and Stalks made the crazy decision to run towards the horde of undead and jumped on the youth's head, burying the claws on the foot a little bit into the head to not slip on the footing. Then the next step landed on another taller undead argonian's head and he kept jumping from head to head for three more undead he trampled on till he made a last desperate jump to the plateau where the circled wall with the big strange text was. Letting go of the spear to free his hands he managed to grab the ledge barely but with the adrenaline pumping he quickly managed to pull himself up. Looking down he saw the undead horde making their way up the stairs and the bodies that had been thrown up the stairs were now making their way across the walkways on the sides. Seeing as the undead now came charging from the sides he also saw an opportunity. The middle was now clear and he waited till most of the flayed ones were just a feet from reaching him when jumped down, grabbed his spear and made a quick dash for the doorway he came in through. He ran all he could down the corridors and up some stairs and all the time the undead horde could be heard behind him. He met a couple of bandits in a room with a wooden staircase and a small stone bridge. The bandits were standing on the small bridge and they first drew their weapons and got ready to attack Stalks but when the horde appeared behind him they froze. Stalks didn't care and rushed up the stairs and pushed them down from the bridge to serve as a delay for the undead as ran across it. It bought him some seconds of time as the undead shifted focus to the bandits but as soon as they were dead they went back to chasing Stalks. When he reached the entrance of the barrow he rushed down the large stairs and as he did he saw the several bandits coming back through the icy cave. The dunmer that had ordered them before when Stalks had sneaked around them started yelling: "He's in here! Ready your arrows and take aim." The bandits managed to pull their arrows from their quivers when the horde came rushing out of the barrow. "Run! I mean fire! No run!" The dunmer shouted frantically. A few of the bandits managed to send an arrow flying into the horde before they were consumed by fear like the rest and started running. Stalks ducked a little as the arrows flew above his head and then joined the bandits' run for their lives. As they ran Stalks used his tail to trip a couple of bandit that ran besides so they could slow down the horde. As with the bandits on the stone bridge it bought a few seconds of time but they were still chasing them. When they reached the exit of the cave Stalks had proven to be a bit faster than all the other bandits who were all at least a few feet behind. Making a quick little detour to his campfire he picked up his boots in the haste and kept running down the dirt path with bandits and undead in tow. When he hit the the big road he saw a large band of Stormcloaks walking towards him in strict lines. Waving his arms in the air with the spear in one hand and the boots in the other must have been an odd sight, he had never felt so lucky in his entire life. "Bandits and undead! Bandits and undead!" He screamed for all his lungs worth as he ran towards them. The Stormcloaks suddenly drew their weapons, although they hadn't yet seen the threat. The captain leading them was about to question Stalks, thinking he was a bandit trying to pull the wool over their eyes, but that soon changed when they heard screaming from the barrow. At first, they froze and hesitated just like the bandits at the sight of scaleless and skinless Argonian undead, but as they got nearer, they readied their blue shields and formed up in a line. "Charge!" The female captain said. Though it was more like a careful march, given no one wanted to fall victim to the horde. The bandits who ran from the undead didn't even have time to think when the Stormcloaks came and cut them down along with the shifters behind them, though it was really a mercy granted to them. The horde fought fiercely, but without armor and weapons, they didn't stand much of a chance and were quickly reduced to piles of ash before too much longer. Once the last of the things were finally cut down, they all started to turn towards Stalks, their suspicion returning from before. The captain walked up to Stalks now and removed her full faced helmet, revealing a blonde freckled woman with a braided ponytail. "What in the hell was that about? You're not a necromancer, are you?" With the spear was sheathed and the boots lying on the ground he held his hands against the knees for support, breathing heavily as he was catching his breath. "Lilith the bandit... raised the undead. I'm just a bounty hunter." He reached into a pocket and pulled out the paper the steward had given him about Lilith's bounty and held it up to the captain, hoping that it would work as proof for what he had just said. The captain took the bounty from him angrily, then looked back at him, then to what was hordes of skinned Argonians. There were reports of Argonians specifically being attacked by her band. And they never could get them, they were too evasive. "What was she doing with them?" "Take a closer look on that bandit's armor." He pointed at a bandit corpse and then straightened up his back but his breathing was still heavy. She signaled with a nod for one of the men to go check. When the man took a look, she heard him groan with disgust. "It's not really dragonscale armor... It's Argonian scale armor..." "Gods... I was afraid he'd say that... my cousin came in with a suit of that a week ago. I knew it was fake, but... he paid almost four hundred gold coins for that. I'm guessing Lilith escaped?" asked the captain. "Aye. Once I've caught my breath, I think I'm going back up there to see if I can't get that door she escaped through opened." He picked up the boots began putting them on. "And if you don't mind. I would like if you reported this to the steward or the Jarl. See what you can do about the armors she sold. And get the bounty raised." "Maybe if I'm lucky I can get it raised throughout Skyrim. This shit should not be allowed to happen anywhere else. I'll have my men search the barrow myself, we'll handle it from here for now citizen." "Sure you will. But I'm still looking to collect." He adjusted the boots so they sat comfortably. "I will try to not get in the way." He then added, trying to be reassuring. "Mmm, fine. You found and uprooted her hideout, so you deserve that much. Lets go and be quick about it."

Aerin (BT), Boldir, Carlotta, Mila Riften Midday Aerin stood with Carlotta, across the market inspecting a clothes stand. The garments were poorly made, scratchy wool and cheap cotton that would fall apart just from one wash, but there was little else to look at in the town. Jewelry sure, but the prices were exorbitant. There were weapons, but Carlotta had little use for them and Aerin liked his shortsword perfectly fine. So, they tried not to look too disgusted when viewing the thick woolen sweater the toothless, archaic Nordic man sold, while his wife sat behind him knitting more. The colors were nice, a deep red and sharp green, but they were much too flamboyant for the sibling's liking. Aerin was about to politely decline the man's insistence he try the shirt on, when he noticed Boldir almost violently pull Mila aside. He couldn't blame the man, even with as cute as Mila was she could still be a brat, but the way he scolded her had Aerin perplexed, to say the least. He turned to his sister, accidentally ignoring the old peddler which caused his wife to mumble something about 'ungrateful foreigners'. "Carlotta, what is that about?" Carlotta shrugged. "I don't know." It was true that she didn't, but she had a good idea of what must have happened. There wasn't much Mila would do that could set Boldir off like that. Only one thing really came to mind. Mila's right arm felt like it was going numb after only seconds of being squeezed by Boldir's large hand. "What is it?!" she cried out, as he pulled her out of the market throngs and beside the wooden railing above the canal. She could see from his angry look that she had done something bad, but could not for the life of her tell what it was. "What have I told you repeatedly since we got here?" He sounded even angrier than he looked. Despite not knowing what she'd done, Mila already felt ashamed. Boldir rarely got mad at her, and usually didn't get this mad when he did. She must have done something really bad. "Uhh..." Mila racked her brain. He'd told her not to stray on several occasions, but she hadn't. He was right behind her when she began talking to friendly blacksmith, Balimund, about a pretty white coat of armor that he called 'mithril'. It had caught her eye and she'd asked him about it. That was all. "I don't know," she said. It embarrassed her that she could feel a little water in her eyes. "I really don't." Boldir took a slow breath, and eased his grip on her arm. "Gods Mila, I know I've said this many times. Do NOT give our names to strangers!" "I-" Mila paused. That's it? She had expected something worse. Back in Whiterun, everyone knew their names, and half of Riften's merchants knew them by their looks by now. Mila didn't even think of Balimund as a stranger anymore. He'd seen and spoken to them many days these past few weeks. "I didn't think he was a stranger," she said meekly. "Everyone not from home is a stranger." he responded quickly. "Other than me, your mother, your uncle Aerin, and... I suppose Vex as well. No one else needs to know who we are." "I'm sorry," she muttered, "I just didn't think about it. It didn't seem too important." "It is the most important rule we have. This is not a safe place. People will take advantage of us the moment they get the chance." Balimund didn't seem to Mila like the type to take advantage of anyone, except perhaps to squeeze a few more coins out of them than his products were really worth. Her expression must have given this away, because Boldir continued. "There are other blacksmiths in the city, but Balimund is the best. It is the wealthy who buy from him. Did you know that he forges for the Jarl's family, as well as the Black-Briars?" She'd heard the name 'Black-Briar' periodically over the last month, but never got a full explanation as to who they were. All she knew was that they were rich, and most people didn't seem to like them. "Why would he tell them our names?" she asked. "And why would they care anyway? We didn't do anything to them." Boldir sighed. "You don't have to here. You haven't seen much of it, but this is not a nice city. Not like Whiterun. There are people who could and would do a lot with our names." His frown faded, and he patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry I had to get stern with you. It won't happen again, will it?" "No." She rubbed her stinging eyes, still a little angry that she'd let herself tear up over this. "Good girl." Boldir smiled and, much to her discontent, roughed up her hair. "Let's get back to your mother and Aerin." Aerin couldn't help but crack a smile when Boldir ruffled his daughter's hair. He'd always wanted kids, but hadn't found the right girl. Contrary to town rumor, him and Mjoll were just friends, and while they'd experimented with expanding their relationship, it never came to fruition. She was too ambitious, even more so than Aerin, as she always talked about moving to another city, presumably to clear out thief problems, while he was content with saving Riften then planting some roots. Occasionally they still slept together, as neither could bother with a relationship while they fought the Thieves Guild, but it never amounted to more than a few rounds in the bed. He was so lost in his self contemplation he didn't realize Boldir and Mila were now standing in front of them. Mila's eyes glistened slightly as if she had started to cry, but the smile on her face said she was over the scolding, probably forgetting what it was even about. "So, did you see any other weapons you wanted? Like maybe a broadsword or a war hammer, or are you content with your dagger?" Aerin asked his niece playfully. Mila put on the most serious face she could manage. "Oh no, I like the great axes best. Momma won't let me have one though." "Ah, an axe person like your father...well, since mean ol' mommy won't get you one, maybe if you ask really nicely I will!" Aerin had lowered his voice when speaking about his sister, hoping a well deserved swift kick to the backside wasn't imminent. Mila couldn't keep her composure, and shortly after a smile cracked, it turned to full-on laughter, forgetting all about the ordeal about the names. "Uncle Aerin! I was kidding!" Aerin put on his best fake shocked expression, trying to looked completely surprised. "Wha-what?! You mean you don't actually want a battle axe? Why not, it's perfectly reasonable for a young girl to have one!" "I tried to hold Boldir's broken one once." Mila admitted, as the giggles died down, "but I could barely lift the handle." "I find that hard to believe, look at those muscles," Aerin squeezed Mila's biceps, "Wow, their huge! Larger than your dads even!" "Right!" she laughed, "and I've also got his beard!" she took the ends of her long hair and brought it under her nose, making a mock beard. "You know, in the right light-" Boldir started, earning an elbow from a chuckling Carlotta. "I think Carlotta could use a beard to hide that mug!" Aerin got a little more than an elbow, his bicep receiving a sharp knuckled fist. "Hey! I'm just kidding!" "Kid on someone who isn't your big sister." Carlotta said, putting extra emphasis on the word 'big'. It wasn't much of a threat, she knew, as she was without a doubt the physically weakest of the three siblings. "Ugh, Me big bad Carlotta, me punch arm and elbow ribs," Aerin imitated her, adding the troll-like inflection to his voice. She rolled her eyes and decided to move on, turning to Boldir, "So what are you thinking about for lunch?" Aerin was about to make a snarky comment to Carlotta when he saw Mjoll across the market, her left arm in a sling and a frown upon her face. "If you'll excuse me, I have something I need to take care of," Aerin said, briskly walking away before anyone could even reply. He practically ran across the marketplace, anxious something was seriously wrong with his friend. "Mjoll, what's going on?" he asked upon arrival, not even bothering with a greeting. "Aerin, there you are" His friend didn't look pained despite the fresh wound. "It's nothing serious. I'll buy a potion for it soon." She shook her head. "It was the damned Thieves Guild. One of them was just released from prison, but you know as well as I how little prison does for their lot. I saw him following a man this morning, had a dagger out and everything. In broad daylight! I almost got him, but another came out of nowhere and got my arm with his club. They were both gone by the time I got my sword out." "Mjoll, I already told you that we need to lay off the Thieves Guild, what if something happened to Boldir and Carlotta, or worst of all Mila? They would never forgive me," Aerin pleaded his friend, putting his hand lightly on her shoulder. "How could me stopping a mugging come back to hurt them?" Mjoll shook her head. "I'm sorry Aerin, but them being in town is no reason for me to allow these vermin to beat and rob people. It's not even related." "Apparently it is. I don't know the specifics, but I think the guild and Boldir have a history, so if they learn of his presence then there could be repercussions, on him and his family. Just hold off, please," Aerin was getting frustrated, as his friend just didn't understand what having a family member close to him meant to him. Mjoll could clearly see his frustration. "If he has a bad history with them, he should've agreed to help us when you offered. But that aside, I don't see what the problem is. Are you saying I should have let the man get mugged?" "Yes...no, I don't know. I'm just trying to placate Carlotta, and she and Boldir told me not to mess with them, so that's what I'm doing. Plus, you trying to stop them only got you hurt, and the men still got away! So hold off, just for a little while." "The man they were after got away unharmed. That's reason enough for me to know that I made the right move. I'm sorry Aerin, but I'm not holding off. Not as long as people like that thief continue in their ways. They're the entire reason I'm in Riften. If this Boldir has a problem with what I do, he and I can talk it out ourselves." "Fine. But know this, Mjoll, that of you do anything to endanger Boldir, Carlotta, or Mila, that'll be the end of my helping you." "End of your helping me?" Mjoll looked hurt. "Aerin, you are one of the only people here that has ever raised a finger to help make a difference." She frowned. "I'm going to talk to Boldir tonight. You said he was a skilled man, that he could help us deal with the Thieves Guild, as he did in Whiterun. Even if he won't, I will talk to him about his contagious "do nothing" philosophy." "Shhh, don't speak too loudly, you know as well as I do that anyone could hear us, and that includes the Thieves Guild," Aerin spoke with a lowered voice, much as he had the entire conversation. "Sorry." Mjoll lowered her voice to match his. "What I said stands. If your sister's husband wants us to allow crime to run unchecked, then perhaps it is time they left. I will say as much to him tonight." "Go ahead, but know who's side I stand on," Aerin left his warning in the air, walking past Mjoll and towards their house. *** Vex The Ragged Flagon "So you remember all those firs I got a few years back, thinkin' they was 'furs'? Well I finally found a buyer..." Delvin looked confident. "Three threes." Vex almost laughed, but that wouldn't do in front of the younger members, instead she managed a mocking chuckle as she peered under her overturned wooden cup, the carved whale bone dice beneath read two fives and two twos. "Two fives... You can't mean that you kept those all this time? It was an entire caravan." "Five fives." The young, muscular Nord, Garthar, looked between the two of them, his eyes alight with humor. "You mean to tell me that you hit a caravan of wood thinking it'd be fur?" He laughed louder than was necessary, as Nords often did. "Oh that's rich!" "Seven fives." Said a chuckling Rune. "Yeah, well it's payin' off now. Got two thousand shiny septims for the lot of it. Oh," Delvin looked at Rune, "and you're a liar." Everyone lifted their cups. Vex saw that Garthar had two fives, Delvin had none, and Rune sat with three, Vex's two left the total at exactly seven. The look on Delvin's face was near priceless. "How in the blazes d'you do that?" Rune's toothy grin was not an uncommon sight, but even Vex wasn't accustomed to seeing it spread so wide. The young Imperial pushed back his long brown hair and shrugged. "It's a good thing you managed to sale all those firs, because something tells me you will be glad for the extra cash when this is over." Delvin grumbled and cast out his die. He was down to his last one. Garthar still had two, and Vex four. Somehow though, Rune held on to all five of his own. They all scooped them up and dropped them into their cups. "So..." Rune spoke as they shook up the dice, "did any of you hear about Molgrom? He's finally out, and the first thing he did was go after some man in broad daylight." This was news to Vex. Molgrom Twice-Killed was an old friend, and a clever thief. Daylight robbery wasn't something she would have expected from him. The guards mostly worked for the same people they did, but even so, they couldn't play stupid to blatant crime in the streets. "No, I didn't hear. What happened?" "It didn't go well." They all brought their cups down to the table. Vex peered beneath. Three threes and a two. Rune continued. "That Lioness woman showed up and nearly split his skull. Lucky for him that Thrynn was keeping an eye on her. He clipped her in the arm and the pair of them took off. The man never got touched. My turn? Three threes." "I'll be damned." Delvin shook his head. "Four twos... Where are they now?" "The pair of them are back in the Cistern now. Molgrom has calmed down since. Says the man had a hand in his arrest." "Five threes." Vex wagered. "It'll be good to have Molgrom back, so long as he can keep that damn knife of his sheathed. He brought in a good bit of gold." "Seven threes." Garthar continued. The Nord was more interested in the game than in old members he'd never met. "Well I think-" "Hey!" Rune was interrupted by a woman's voice. Vex recognized it immediately as belonging to Sapphire, a jewel thief and one of their youngest, yet most skilled members. She pushed past the lookout, Dirge, and approached the table. "Where's Brynjolf?" "He's topside." Vex answered. "He'll be back later tonight. What's the hurry?" "I heard something that he needs to know. It was my turn to follow the Lioness woman." The whole table groaned. Will that bitch not let up? wondered Vex, If Aerin doesn't want her to get killed, he needs to control her. "What is it that she did this time?" "It's not what she did, it's what she said. It was in the market, so I didn't hear perfectly, but she was talking to that Imperial fool out by the market. The one she's usually with, and she spoke of getting outside help from someone named Boldir. She said something along the lines of him striking against the guild here, and that he's already done something similar in Whiterun." Boldir?! Vex barely managed to hide her surprise. This didn't make any sense. He came here with Carlotta and Mila. There is no way that he would be doing something so stupidly dangerous. "That's ridiculous. One man couldn't bring us down, no matter how dangerous." "Now hold on a minute, Vex." said Delvin, "This actually explains what happened in Whiterun. Battle-Born called off our deal, and we haven't had a job pulled off in there in months. What else did she say, Sapphire?" "Well it was mostly whispered, and she only got loud for a bit near the end. That's when I got closer to hear better. She said that, and she said something about seeing him tonight. I didn't catch much else." "Then we've got some time. Good job Sapphire. Having that woman watched turned out to be a good idea after all." Delvin shrugged. "Best move we can make now is have someone follow her to the meeting and see what this Boldir fella is about." Vex realized this was her best chance to fix whatever was going on here. "I'll do it." "That's reassuring." Delvin stood up. "Now I had better take this news to Bryn." "Oh no you don't." Rune grabbed his arm, still grinning as though nothing was amiss. "Vex is dealing with it, and Brynjolf is busy. He can hear the news when he gets back. You've still got a die on the table." "You're a damn grubber, you know that?." Delvin sat back down, while Vex stood. "Take over for me, Sapphire. Win and I'll give you half. Lose to anyone but Rune and I'll bust your lip. I'm going to find the Nord woman now while we know where she is." "Alright. Good luck Vex." Sapphire took her seat. She could hear Delvin cursing and Rune laughing as she headed back through the hidden back door to the Cistern. The main headquarters of the Thieves Guild was as busy as ever. The light cast from the well above fell down the center in a solid stream, and illuminated the large round sanctuary for her extended family of thugs and ruffians. Members everywhere talked and trained and gambled and planned. A few years ago, they had been but a shadow, a handful of old, unlucky thieves who clung to the hope that their fortunes would turn and the guild would prosper. Now, they numbered so greatly, even she had a hard time remembering all the new names. Wealth and jobs had become abundant, and they had contacts in every city save Whiterun. Whiterun. If Boldir had anything to do with that, I'll... Vex wasn't really sure what she would do, but that was nothing compared to the second accusation. If he truly was plotting against them here in Riften, and dragging her sister into it as well, then there was going to be hell to pay. Once she was topside, Vex headed for the market. Despite the dense crowds, Mjoll the Lioness wasn't hard to spot. Even if she didn't wear a full suit of iron armor, carry a sword plus battle axe, and stand half a head over everyone, she would still stand out. The woman resided in Riften, but she stood apart from the locals. She carried herself tall and proud, but rarely seemed to interact with anyone, and was always just a little outside of whatever crowds are formed up. Except when she's with my brother. Mjoll's affiliation with Aerin bugged Vex. It had nothing to do with care for her brother of course, but it made her uneasy. There wasn't a man or woman in the city that knew they were siblings save for Mjoll and a few harmless old-timers, and that was thanks to Aerin. What if she were to let that bit of information slip, and the guild were to learn that one of their opponents was directly kin to her? Then they would assume that she had been protecting, or even siding with him. Situations like that could lead anywhere. Vex found a comfortable bench on the other side of the market and took a seat. It turned out that Mjoll was a dreadfully dull person. The Nord eventually found a seat of her own and remained there for the next few hours. Even her humorless, deadpan expression was boring. When the sun fell behind the walls and darkness finally began to take hold, she finally stirred. Most of the market stalls were not yet ready to close, and so the crowds remained, albeit smaller, and so it was not difficult for Vex to go unnoticed. Mjoll headed into the Bee and Barb, and so Vex followed. The tavern was almost always busy, and Vex found tonight to be no exception. She spotted Mjoll heading for the counter, to an empty seat beside a huge dark-haired Nord who dwarfed even the Lioness. All three of them stay here. With that in mind, Vex pulled up her black hood to hide her face and light blonde hair. It would be to her eternal shame if Carlotta's daughter were to come tugging on her sleeve with a question as she eavesdropped on her stepdad. There were no empty seats close to the pair of them, so Vex simply crossed the room and leaned on the wall nearby, making sure that her hood blocked Boldir's view of her face were he to turn and look. If she didn't draw any attention, the density of people in the room should allow her to go unnoticed. Boldir's voice was low, but not a whisper. He most likely made the common mistake of assuming the noisy room made their conversation private. Vex had learned long ago that it was not so. She noticed that he sounded far from happy. "-to know, who is it that told you my name?" Vex strained to listen, but could not make out what Mjoll said in response. The woman sat too far and the room too loud. She would have to piece it together from Boldir's end of the conversation alone. ... "I didn't want that getting out. You're the only person he told?" ... ... "Good. That is reassuring to hear. What is it you are here for then?" ... ... "Is that so? Well you have me wrong. I said 'no' because I'm here with my family. I have no interest in putting them at risk by joining the two of you in your futile crusade." ... Vex breathed a sigh of relief. The idea that Boldir could have been planning against the guild was not one she relished in. If an anxious thief didn't slit his throat in an alleyway first, the Black-Briars would have him, Carlotta, and probably even Mila arrested. Vex knew that people who get caught crossing the Black-Briars, or even those under their protection, are rarely seen again. She was not particularly worried about Boldir, but the thought of her sister or niece being harmed on his account had infuriated her almost as much as the nonexistent plan would have. ... "Yes, it is futile, and suicidal as well. However, I think you're right. We have spent many weeks in this city now. I am not going to fight you on this. Give me two days longer with my family, two days in which you don't do anything stupid, and I promise, we will all be gone." ... ... "Don't be sorry, I may think what you're doing is foolish, but I won't pretend it's not commendable. I respect it, and you can tell Aerin as much." ... ..."You misunderstand. That didn't mean I approve. I wish he'd quit for good rather than just while we are here. He is my family now, after all. I do not wish to see his life ended early." Vex had heard enough. She slipped out of the building drawing as little attention as when she'd entered. So Sis's leaving in a couple of days... For a moment, Vex considered 'obtaining' a going away gift for them, but then decided against it. That would just make her and the big guy mad. She passed through town without drawing a glance, and would soon be back in the Flagon, where she could expose the whole matter as the misunderstanding it was. Crisis averted. Good job, Vex. *** Maul (Colonel) Black-Briar Manor Maul was in a particularly pleasant mood, not that you could tell from his face. He just got his hands on an old drunkard who thought it would be funny to piss on Maven Black-Briar's estate. Needless to say, he wouldn't be making that mistake again, and he may even give up drinking to make sure he didn't. After that business was done, he made his way back inside the manor, where Maven apparently wanted his hulking presence. He was her right hand man, but his time serving as such was rarely at her side, but in the streets where he more comfortably worked. If she wanted him in attendance to something, she was either having a meeting with someone that needed more convincing, be it by intimidation of his presence or by how he got his namesake, or she had a job for him. Either way, tonight may prove to be interesting. Talos knows he could use some interesting, not that he gave a flying **** about Talos. In Riften, Maven was the only god worth taking note of. A few clicks from the door from Maul's key to the manor announced his arrival, though the only person surprised after the door opened was Maul when he saw who was inside. "Brynjolf?" he said. That scam artist almost never came around here, as Maven didn't want to openly be seen associating with the thieves guild, though not everyone knew Brynjolf was in it. They knew he was a scam artist, but he was a poor one. A good cover up to throw off the suspicion of being a master thief. At any rate, his presence here meant that whatever Maven had planned for him must be important. "Maul." The thief returned the greeting curtly. He was sitting at the far end of the dining room table, just in view of the front door. The rest of the table was not visible from where he stood. "Maul's here?" It was the voice of Maven's grandson, Sibbi. "Hurry up and get back here! We need you!" Maul was lucky that his facial expression hardly ever changed except to go from mean to meaner, as any time he saw Sibbi, his disgust for the man filled his mind. Even the name did. He was nothing like his grandmother and he never would be. Maven knew this plain, though Maul was smart enough not to express the same feelings with her. The only thing he expressed was a will to obey, unless told otherwise, which is what he did now as he moved into the room and stood at Maven's side before taking his seat. Maven respected that in him and granted him the mercy of not having to kiss her ass in front of the others, so he was silent as he sat, waiting to see things unfold. "Brynjolf," Maven's voice was sharp like a dagger. It betrayed no emotion, but always came off as more commanding than any Jarl. It was the voice of a person who was always in charge, and knew it. "Repeat to Maul what you've just told us." Like any scam artist, Brynjolf usually wore his own masks well, but Maul could see in him a hint of confusion. Emotions and thoughts are difficult to hide in front of Maven. "One of our thieves returned today. She had been tailing a vigilante named Mjoll. People call her 'The Lioness'. You have probably heard of her plenty. She has acted against us before, and so we decided to keep tabs on her, to keep her from further hurting any of our own. While she tailed, she overheard Mjoll talking to a man named Aerin. Never did know the man's last name, he didn't take an interest in us until a few years back, but he's mostly been harmless. The conversation wasn't entirely clear, but she did overhear the Lioness talking about making a move against the guild. She admits that it could've been a mistake, as they spoke low, in large crowds. She said it sounded like they were getting outside help from a man named Boldir, and that she was meeting him tonight. My best thief went out to listen in on that meeting. That way we can confirm one way or the other if this is for real or not. Odds are she can tell me everything by the time I get back. I'll come straight to you with the news." Hemming Black-Briar, Maven's son and Sibbi's father, was the only one in the room to wear a smile, unless you count the smug grin that was ever-present on his own son. "When this thief of yours has told you where this Boldir is and who he is with, we will deal with all of them accordingly." "Like I said," Brynjolf started, "we don't know for certain that there is a plan at all. The hearing was very vague, and-" "You need not worry yourself with that part." interrupted Sibbi. "We have questions of our own for this man. Just find him for us, and any others." Brynjolf nodded. "Of course." Maybe Brynjolf didn't understand, though Maul was sure he did, which was why he tried to protest, but Maul was starting to get the picture of things perfectly well. Whether or not this Boldir was involved with them or not, Mjoll the Lioness was a rather annoying pain in the ass. If the Thieves Guild and Maven got to this man, it would give Mjoll something to think about next time she tried to start trouble. And that went for anyone else in the city that got any fanciful ideas. Though, if this Boldir man was someone Mjoll thought she could go to, perhaps it would be better if he dug a little to find a little info himself. "Maven, if you don't mind, after Vex gets back with this information, I'd like to do a little info searching of my own around the city." Maul looked to Brynjolf and gave him a meaningful look of recognition. Everyone knew Vex was the best thief in the thieves guild aside from Brynjolf himself. "Anyone Mjoll thinks she can go to has to be someone we should know about. And as you know, knowing is my thing." "All that I need to know, is this man's location." Maven said flatly. "Once we have that, I want you to bring him here to me. If he has any allies, gather some help and bring them as well. I care little for Mjoll unless she actually has a plan. When this business is over, you can look into that." Maul nodded to her, then stayed silent. He wasn't worried, since no matter who this man was, it was unlikely that he had the connections or power Maven had. Whoever he was before, they'd find out soon enough, and it can only be an advantage for Maven by then. Maven coughed, it sounded like a choking cough, but stopped far too abruptly. For the briefest of moments, so fast that Maul was sure that only he had seen it, a flash of annoyance crossed her face. "Sibbi, go to that alchemy shop and fetch your sister." Sibbi got up left the room without a word. When he was gone, Brynjolf spoke again. "So I'm good to go then? I'm sure we're all anxious to find out what..." he cast an involuntary glance at Maul. It was brief, but the look was one of a man who'd been beaten. "... Vex discovered." Maven waved her hand, "Yes, go. And be quick about it. I would have this all dealt with tonight." And with that, Brynjolf took his leave as well. He didn't make a sound as he exited the manor. After a moment, Maven looked back to Maul. "I want you to remain here until he returns." "Of course, Maven. What are you thinking?" he asked, curious since the flash of annoyance what was on her mind. Why she wanted Ingun made him wonder as well. Sometimes her talent with elixirs was put to good use. "I am thinking that you are paid to obey. Not ask questions." Maven stood, and abruptly headed toward the door that went upstairs. Leaving only Hemming with him. Maul gave a rare smirk that faded when he looked at Hemming. Classic Maven. Vex better hurry it up so I can get this business over with. I'm curious as to why something like this would attract Maven's attention. Mjoll is an annoying bitch, but she's never been able to do anything with Maven. They haven't even spoken. So why the interest in her now? *** Vex, Boldir, Carlotta, Mila Riften Vex felt better than she had in a long time. After disproving to those who knew of the matter that Boldir intended to harm them, she went into the Cistern and paid Rune for the lost dice game. From there she went on to win her money back in two more (games not involving Rune, of course), and then some in an arm wrestling match with Viper the Fleet. It was nearly midnight, and most of the others had either left or found places to sleep in the hideout when Brynjolf finally returned. By then, Vex was propped up on one of the beds set up for senior members, reading her copy of 'I'm My Own Grandpa'. She noticed his shadow rounding the corner from the brazier-lit entryway before he was actually visible. This being where she usually waited late at night, he immediately headed in her direction. "So did you get what we needed, lass?" Vex hated it when he called her 'lass', but she knew it to be a reflex of his, and he meant nothing by it. "Your lass got everything we needed. That Boldir guy doesn't want anything to do with us. It was all just wishful thinking from the Lioness. In fact, he'll be gone in a couple days." "That's good to hear, but do you know where he is?" Vex closed her book and laid it aside. "What does it matter where he is? He's got nothing on us." "Maven wants to know. She doesn't seem to care much about the plan we thought he had. She seems more interested in the arrest. I'm guessing she wants to sort out the deal herself. That bruiser of hers, Maul, is gonna be rounding up him and anyone with him, but I take it he's alone, considering he never was part of a scheme after all. Oh, and they want a description." "So she just wants to snatch him up without a reason? What happens then? She tortures him?" "What Maven does is her own business. Since when did you start growing a heart for strangers?" Vex knew she had to keep it up, for her sister's sake, that she knew and cared little about the man at the inn. "I didn't. What she does to him doesn't matter to me. It just seemed... wasteful, is all." "Wasteful?" Brynjolf paused for a moment, confused, then his eyes widened. "You aren't taking that kind of an interest in targets now, are you?" "Shut up!" Vex sounded angry and embarrassed, exactly as she intended. "I don't care about him. He's staying at the Bee and Barb, alone. He's a big guy with black hair and a beard. There, happy?" "Sorry about this, lass." he chuckled as he headed off, towards the hidden exit that came out beneath the chapel. "Next time, fall for a wealthy target." She waited until she could hear him climbing the ladder, then quickly slipped off the bed and made for the sewer exit. The Flagon was empty save for a few newer members gambling and drunkenly milling about. None of them said a word as she raced past them and into the Ratway sewer system. The route was longer than the one Brynjolf took, and farther from where she headed, but her running could make up for some of that time, and Maven's goons would no doubt take a few minutes to organize before heading out. She had to reach Boldir before they did. The sewers felt long, even with the guild shortcuts she took, and the dark twists and turns made that stretch seem all the longer. Finally, when she was out the sewer gate, she continued her flight under the moons and stars, bounding through the shadows like a ghost, seen only briefly by the occasional passer-by, then lost again in the dark patterns cast by the the clouds. Not a soul could have recognized her until she entered the perpetually crowded Bee and Barb inn, where no one could make a scene and go unnoticed. She slipped upstairs and made for the first room in a row that she knew to be large enough for a family of three. The lock was child's play, and as luck would have it, all three Iron-Brows laid asleep inside. Vex wasn't religious, but she whispered 'thanks' to whatever force blessed her luck tonight. "Pssst! Wake up!" Boldir stirred. He'd been dreaming of giants, of all things. He watched as a group of them slaughtered Thalmor and Imperials alike, in the plains of Whiterun. "No," he called out to the beasts, "There were no Imperials here. It was only elves." The giants didn't seem to care, and neither did he, he realized. Just as he raised his large battle axe to help, a giant's club appeared and smashed the end to bits. "Why did you do that?" he asked it. The giant looked him dead in the eyes, and spoke with a woman's voice. "HEY! Wake up!" "What the-?" His eyes opened, and a hooded shadow stood at the foot of the bed. Someone's in the room! Boldir rolled from under the sheets and to the floor, landing at a crouch. He grabbed his Nordic war axe from the mantle and spun around. "Carlotta, get behind me! Mila! Your dagger!" The shadowed figure cursed and disappeared through the door. Mila sat up in her bed, right behind where the woman had been. Her face was invisible in this darkness, but the moonlight through the window lit her dagger up a bright white. She already had it up. Good girl. "Will you stop it?!" Carlotta's cry was frantic. "That was Vex, not some killer!" "Yeah, no shit!" Vex's voice came from the other side of the door. "Now are you gonna let me come in without chopping my face off?" Boldir took a few breaths to steady himself, and set aside his axe. Abrupt wakings were not something he took well. "Come in. You better have a good explanation for-" "Saving your lives isn't good enough?" Asshole. Vex entered again and glanced at Mila's still raised dagger. "Is that thing glowing?" Her thieving instincts went crazy. The dagger had to be worth a fortune. Not now! "Nevermind. Put it up. It'll draw attention." She looked back to Boldir and Carlotta. "We have to go, NOW. They'll be here in minutes, maybe less." Nobody moved. "Who will be here?" Boldir asked wearily. What's wrong with these people?! Do they not see how rushed I am?! "The gods damned Black-Briars, that's who! Maven's gonna be sending her favorite dog Maul, and a team of others. Believe me big guy, more than even you can handle." The Black-Briars? Boldir shared a brief glance with his wife and the two of them were up. Carlotta began stuffing things frantically into a bag, while he put on a shirt, boots, and a belt. "Hang on. The Black-Briars?" Mila was confused. "What do they want?" "I'll explain later, I promise." said Boldir as he lifted the heavy chest containing his Nordic Carved armor. "Just get together what you can. He'll explain later? What's he got to explain? Vex eyed him as he hefted that rattly chest of his. That won't do at all. "Leave the chest! We need to be quick, quiet, and discreet. We can't be any of those with that thing." Boldir hated it, but Vex was right. He dropped the chest in the corner and threw on a deer fur cloak. "How long do we have?" "We don't have any time at all." Vex said. "That's enough, let's go! Now!" She turned and headed for the exit. Carlotta followed close with an overstuffed pack on her back. Mila was close behind her, carrying nothing but her dagger and small travel bag. Boldir took the rear, opting to be where he could keep an eye on all of them. In the tavern below, Vex peeked out the marketside door and saw none other than Maven's large pet himself, Maul, wearing full steel armor and with a mace at his side. He was flanked by about ten other thugs, some in guard uniform, and some not. They were approaching through the market, not twenty meters away. She quickly snapped her head back in. "Out the other door. Hurry!" They wasted no time in obeying. The four of them made their way to the opposite end of the tavern and were out the door not a moment too soon. It wasn't over yet. Vex figured that they had perhaps a minute before Maul realized Boldir wasn't upstairs. She rushed them to a nearby alley at the other side of the canal. She noticed as they passed that the gate was closed, and two guards stood by it. Could I convince them to open it? She peered around the corner of the house they hid behind. There's no way Maven would have alerted them for this, is there? She didn't have time to decide. One of Maul's men bounded from the inn and past the alley, straight to the gate, where he stood talking to the guards, no doubt telling them to keep the gate closed. Shit! Vex knew what had to happen. She would have to take the them to her house. "This way." she hissed, and lead them through the shadows of the city. Through alleys, over canals, under porches, and around streets they ran, stopping periodically to time their sprints around any patrols. By now, Maul would have his thugs searching the streets, and getting help from every guard they meet. But this was a big city, and she knew it better than anyone. Soon enough, they were behind her house. Vex lead the way into the back door, and promptly locked it behind them. Hearing that latch click was one of the most satisfying things in the world. She turned and looked at the trio. All three looked confused, and the girls looked scared to boot. Mila was breathing heavy, and her skin was pale. Vex patted her on the shoulder. "You did good." She looked up at her sister. "Eventful night, huh?" "Eventful night?!" Carlotta felt like screaming, and only managed to control herself because Boldir and Mila watched. "Do you mind telling us what is going on?!" Vex glanced at Boldir. "You said you'd explain later." she said with a fake, 'knowing' attitude. It was probably an asshole move to put this on him, but she didn't much care, especially after saving his life. Plus, she was genuinely curious of what his answer would be. He wasn't supposed to know anything. "Why don't you tell her for me?" Boldir scowled. "I already told my wife everything there is... Or at least was. Why don't you explain to me why Maven Black-Briar knows I'm here?! In fact, how do you know what's going on?" "What is going on?" Mila shouted. "None of you are making any sense!" "I'll be honest," Vex looked at Mila. "I'm starting to feel about as lost as you are." "How are you lost?" Carlotta said, perplexed, "you're the one who knew what was happening!" "Yeah, and then big guy here said he'd explain, insinuating that he knew something on his own, and now just confirmed it." She jabbed a thumb in Boldir's direction. "You've met Maven before, haven't you?" Boldir glared at Vex. She was more clever than he'd originally figured. And much more conniving. She'd been pretending that she knew more than she did this whole time. She'd been waiting to put him on the spot for this ever since the moment he'd uttered those brief words to Mila, and only to sate her own curiosity. I'll explain later... Damn. He would have to explain the Black-Briar situation, to Vex and to Mila. But that could wait. Vex knew something he didn't as well, and that was how they learned that he was in their city. "I'll tell you everything, I promise. But first, tell me what lead up to you saving us from the thugs, and what brought them our way." "Fine." Vex relented. "One of our thieves was in the market today-" "Oh gods!" Mila interrupted. Water was forming up in her eyes. "It was the blacksmith wasn't it? It's because I told him our names!" Tears began to freely roll down her cheeks, and she turned to Boldir and burried her face in his cloak. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't know-" What in the world? "No," Vex said, "stop that! You didn't have anything to do with it." She let the girl wipe her eyes and continued, telling them all about Sapphire and what she'd heard. How she, out of strictly love, had personally volunteered to eavesdrop on Boldir's meeting with Mjoll, and went back to the guild telling everyone that it was all a misunderstanding. She told them of Brynjolf's return, and how he had told him that Boldir was alone. "So why didn't you give a fake location?" Interrupted Carlotta. "Because, sweet sister, they would get there and realize I had lied. Unlike with the inn, where there is plenty of evidence that you were actually there. And then, they would've been after me as well. Believe it or not, I actually want to get through all of this unscathed. It was already too late for you three. The best I could do was reach you before Maul, which I did... So yeah, I've basically been busting my butt for you three all day. You're welcome." Boldir hesitated, then extended a hand. "I never thought I'd say this to a thief like you, but... thank you." Vex glanced at his hand, but didn't take it. "What is this? Court? I told you my end. Now it's your turn." Boldir sighed. He wasn't sure how to break this to Mila, or how she would respond. "Can we find a place to sit first?" Vex lead them to her kitchen. The dinning table could seat six, so Boldir sat at the end, Carlotta and Mila sat on one side of him, and Vex, the other. "Alright." Boldir looked at Carlotta. She nodded, with him always. "I was young when I had my first run-in with the Black-Briars. Back then they were lead by Maven's older brother, a man named Torven. This was when I was in the Legion, stationed at Fort Greenwall north of the city. We collaborated with the family on some matters, and along with a few others, I was eventually moved to work for the Black-Briars personally. To skip over most of the details, a friend of mine brought into light just how bad our new bosses really were, and so we brought the news to the Jarl. When he sent me and a group of others to arrest Torven, it got ugly, and I ended up killing him. What happened after that doesn't matter, but it lead me leaving the Legion for good. Since then, I've always used my devotion to Talos as a cover for why I had to leave, to keep what happened in Riften under wraps." The room was silent for a good few seconds. Vex was shocked. She remembered when Torven had died. It was notable because that same day, Jarl Karsten, Layla's father, was murdered, and the following days had been chaotic. This explains why Maven wanted him caught with or without a crime. Just hearing the name Boldir was enough. "So... You killed Maven's brother?" "Yes, and she tried to kill me soon after." "And all this happened, what, over twenty years ago? You survived, got away from Maven and lost her for good. Became a family man, had a good life, and then saw fit to bring your family back here, to a place run by people wanting to KILL YOU?!" Vex scowled. "And here I thought I was helping someone with common sense! I should throw you out now! Let her have you before you drag the rest of us down too!" "He isn't the only one who knew!" Carlotta retorted. "We discussed this before coming to Riften. I agreed that we should come. He looks completely different now, and only through near impossible misfortune could we have gotten caught." "Then the gods are ******* funny. Because that's exactly what happened." Vex shook her head, muttering, "Parents dragging their kid into a death trap. You know, Ma and Pa may not have loved me like they do you or Aerin, but I actually am starting to appreciate them now." Carlotta gasped. "Aerin! We forgot about Aerin! They know Mjoll is related, and they'll come for him next." "It's alright. None of them know he has sisters. We can't do anything for him now, so you can try praying, if that's still your thing." She got up and headed for the stairs. "I've done some stuff to conceal the attic room upstairs. You three can stay in it until we figure out how to get you out of this city. The sooner the better. Knowing Maven, she'll take drastic measures once you've been hidden for too long. I can hide you from Maul. But don't expect me to be much help if a Dark Brotherhood assassin comes searching." "Mila?" Boldir looked the girl's way. She was avoiding looking at him, he could tell. "I'm sorry that I haven't been telling you... everything. We- I thought it best if you didn't know. So you could come here and enjoy the trip." Mila turned around in her chair. "You lied to me." she said quietly. "You told me that they didn't need a reason to be bad, but they had one. That's why you didn't want me saying our names." She finally turned and faced him, teary eyed and angry. "You yelled at me for putting us in danger, but you put us all in danger!" "Mila, it's not-" "No! I don't want to listen to you! You're a liar!" She threw back her chair and stormed out the room the way Vex had gone. Carlotta scooted closer and put an arm around Boldir. "She'll come around." "Did you see her face, Carlotta? She hates me for this. What kind of kid looks up to a father that lies to them?" He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so broken. "I brought us here for her... This was all for her. I just wanted," he cursed as he felt a slight bit of water forming in his own eyes. He blinked it away. "I just wanted her to see her family, to see the places we came from. To give her what any decent father would!" But no. Thrice damned Maven and the thrice damned guild had to ruin that! He leaned low and held onto Carlotta, leaving his head on her shoulder. "And now we're stuck here... What do I do?" Mila sat at the bottom of the stairs, just on the other side of the wall. Her face was buried in her hands as she sobbed. A hand on her shoulder spun her around. "You shouldn't be eavesdropping on your parents." said Vex. "Come on up. I'll show you your new room." *** Maul It was late when Maul finally returned, but nobody slept. Every Black-Briar had remained up, each undoubtedly with different thoughts on what was to happen next. Not that any of those thoughts mattered save Maven's own. Even Ingun was up, standing close behind Maven in the entryway. Hemming and Sibbi could be heard talking in a back room. "So," said Maven, glaring at Maul with a hard-to-read expression that hinted at something bordering between anger and disappointment, "I presume you failed?" Maul knew better than to make excuses, so he gave it to her plain. "Yes, I failed. He wasn't there. At least, he wasn't when I got there. Others saw him in the inn along with a woman and a child, but they were gone by the time me and my men got there. I alerted the guards by the gates, so he must still be in the city. I think someone tipped him off." "If he's still here, then it's only a matter of time. I want you to insure that we have someone loyal at the gates at all times, and nobody leaves the city without being checked and without us hearing of it. After you are sure the gates are secure, get some rest. Tomorrow, I want the guard force notified, and the streets more heavily patrolled. Brynjolf says that he is a large man. He can not go unnoticed for long. When all this is done, you are to meet with my grandson and begin your search for this person you believe tipped him off." "As you say, Maven. Shouldn't be too hard. I already know where to start..." Mjoll. She was last seen talking with him according to Vex. She'll know. And if she won't talk, I bet I can get that shrimp that follows her around like a lost puppy to sing for me. It's time they learn whose city this is. "Good. And Maul, when you find him, I want him captured, not killed, along with the woman and child seen with him. I would recommend bringing help to avoid any case in which he he proves more than your match. Be quick in this. Take too long, and you give him more time to figure out a way to escape, and I will have no choice but to resort to measures I would prefer to avoid." "Got it." Maul was about to leave it at that and head through the door, though one final thought came to his mind... "Maven, one more thing. I'm sure by now you know what I'm planning and who I plan on visiting. Do I have the same restrictions with them as well?" "Mjoll lives." Maven said plainly. "The Jarl is obsessed with her, and she is useful in her own right. As for her friend, you may do what you will." Maul gave another one of his rare smirks, then sank back into the darkness of the city. That darkness not being completely literal. Mjoll wasn't likely to give him anything anyway. He knew that. Not on her own. But the bitch who followed her? If he didn't talk, he could make her talk whether he wanted her to or not. One way or another, someone would talk. They always did. And if they didn't, well... At least he could have a little fun while he was at it.

Dales Motierre Imperial Palace Night Dales sat in her desk, along. It was far past the eve of Twilight, and the darkness crept around her, with only small candlelight to light the way. She was writing in her log book, recording the events of the day. She had a particularly heated discussion with the merchant guild on taxes, so she was looking forward to the abyss of sleep. She half heartily glanced at her undone bed, which covers were messily laid about. A small tinge of Nostalgia hit her inside, as she imagined not just two months ago, Miku cuddled up in the bedcovers, snoring loudly, She always looked so cute while she dreamnt. Nothing but phantom pain now. A wiry Breton, a peasant but incredibly comfortable in a fancy setting such as a palace, walked briskly through the hall that ended in Dales' room. A single spoken word, "Messenger," revealed his purpose to visit such a grand place. The guards on either side frisked him over, then allowed him admittance to the Empress' personal chambers. "Empress, I have a message from King Theodore Adrard of High Rock, marked with the utmost urgency." "Your majesty." She said correcting him with a slightly cold, yet polite voice. Her eyes looked over to him worry, unknown to the man, Dales readied the hidden black steel dagger in her dress. "From King Theodore? I heard that he ascended to the throne quite recently, I trust the coronation went smoothly?" "Apologies, we couriers are usually in a hurry, going from one delivery to the next. I tend to forget my manners, ma'am, er, your majesty. As for the coronation, last I 'eard he executed his brother-in-law before gettin' the crown, so I suppose that's smooth. Although, supposedly the wife of the King-for-a-day escaped. Sorry again, that's just what people have taken to calling Aleron Rolston, who King Theo executed," the Breton man rambled a bit, but nevertheless he managed to get out his point. She got out of her chair, and gently moved to the pitcher of water near her bedside, "Very good. May I offer you some refreshments, must have been a tough road." "I would take kindly to some of that water, Empress, but I doubt I can stay long, a courier's life is spent on the road," the man said with a smile. She gently poured a glass for the courier, and handed it to him. She asked him , "May I have the letter?" He blushed visibly, accepting the glass in exchange for the letter. "Sorry again your majesty, I thought I already delivered it." Dales opened the sealed document, and quickly read it in her head. Dear Empress Dales, How go things back in the Imperial capital? I have good news from High Rock, and also some sad news. Unfortunately, my wife's father passed away, and my wife's sister's husband took the throne. He then attempted to assassinate me, with poison, and a hearing found him guilty. I was forced to execute him, but now I've take the throne. It seems all will not end well, however. My wife's sister escaped, and is probably recruiting the noble families loyal to her, with a plan to put her on the throne. I've called my allies, and we will soon depart to crush this rebellion, and hopefully unite High Rock not only under my rule, but under the Empire's as well. It is because of that point I ask you permission to utilize the Imperial troops stationed here. Though they aren't numerous, their professional and orderly manner of conducting war will be essential to turning the tide. I've heard a few troubling things from Cyrodiil, most notably the execution of General Tullius, in part because of a rebellion. A sad day, but I think you have a very capable replacement in General Ceno, or whoever you choose for that matter. I also heard you are due to be married to your court mage, and I congratulate you both and wish you a happy marriage. Please do not think that I am angry, or that I feel slighted by your not choosing my son. I understand the politics behind it, and know this to be the best and most reasonable choice. I wish you a happy marriage, and I hope that you can steer the Empire towards prosperous days. Please remember my request, and consider it with due diligence. I also would appreciate a quick reply, as I will send this with the utmost haste. Sincerely, King Theodore Adrard Wasting no time, Dales drew a page of parchment and began to hastily scribble on it, Your Majesty Theodore Adrard, I will waste no time with pleasantries. You have my full support. Show my seal to the legionary officer in-charge, and you'll have full access to the imperial legion forces stationed in High Rock, along with any resources I can allocate. Crush these rebel scum in the name of the Dragon, King Adrard. Your Empress Dales Motierre, She decided to add some humor to the letter, King Theodore seemed like a man who appreciated it. She added, PS. when I visit you next time, make sure you have a selection of maids and maidens for me to browse, I hear there's some mighty fine ladies in High Rock. She rolled up the parchment, and sealed it with a golden dragon wax seal. She handed the letter to the messenger, and told him, with a cold voice, "Take your time before leaving, if you want anything to eat, just go to the pantry, i'm sure the servants would fix you up some food." "Much obliged Empress. I may grab some salted meats for the road, those always travel well. G'day to you, your majesty," the courier bowed as he left, then swiveled on his heel and walked quickly through the door. Dales let out a sigh. At least three more hours of work before sleep. She sat back down on her desk, and worked into the night. ** Theodore Adrard Camlorn Mid morning, several days later The newly crowned king of High Rock sat at the same desk he'd used as a lowly lord, scanning over his letters. Ones meant to be sent sat on the left, ones incoming on the right. The most prominent of the outgoing were letters to High King Ulfric Stormcloak, Governor Jeleen of Sentinel, one addressed to the Crowns leader as well, and one destined for the ash wastes of Morrowind. All held roughly the same message, with a few tweaks to personalize them, that King Theodore was now in charge in High Rock, and he planned to stay that way. In his hands was the brief message from Empress Dales, his pudgy fingers twiddling the golden Dragon seal before using a small blade to pop the wax. The contents were incredibly light on details, all business and no play. Hmph, seems our Empress is a little busy to trade pleasantries with the fat Breton. No matter. Hehe, the part about the maids is light hearted, but disturbing as well. Time to call upon the Legion it seems, then off to war! The fleeting foray into thought aside, Theodore penned a quick letter addressed to Legate Montrose, explaining that his request for Imperial aid had been a resounding success. The king slid the wax seal inside the envelope as well, ensuring the authenticity of his words. Passing it off to a messenger, the letter was gone in a heartbeat. All that was needed now was patience, which Theodore was thankfully blessed with. Message sent, the King of High Rock waddled his way down the Castle Camlorn's lavishly decorated hallways, passing by rows of tapestries depicting countless battles, weddings, beddings, and funerals, all of some significance to the city of Camlorn. Several showed House Adrard's rise to power, Theodore's five greats-grandfather being the first Adrard to sit the cities throne. He had come by it not using patience, but by usurpation, using his army of peasants and common folk fed up with the previous Lord's rule to overthrow him. The Baron Theoden Adrard became Lord, and so began the line. The bull emblem gracing countless castle banners had also been his invention, as his men called him the Bull-Headed Baron for his fondness of wearing a helmet set with a pair of bull's horns. Theodore still had that helmet, keeping it refurbished and occasionally wearing it for commemorative occasions. The hallways eventually twisted and turned until Theodore arrived at his destination, the war room of the castle. Inside his son leaned against the back wall, knowing his place was not in the center of discussion. Already huddled around the table, eyes squinted and backs hunched, were Captain Alix Vette, Theodore's guard captain, Lord Derric Estermont of Shornhelm, and four dukes. One stood taller than the others, equal height to the giant that was Estermont. He was Duke Jhared Mon, more politician than fighter. His money laundering was well known, and he bore his families insignia of a white owl on a green field. His gray hair slid neatly across his balding head in combover fashion, a rather unsettlingly sight for the older man. Next to him was Alix's older brother, one of three, of which Alix was the youngest. Duke Edwistyr Vette wore his emblem, a mottled feather falling towards the ground, which was appropriate as he and his men were regarded as the best shots in High Rock. His hands calloused from bow work, his black shaggy hair and sharp features matched Theodore's guard captain's perfectly. Across the table from Vette and Mon were Dukes Paul Gondwyn and Irbran Theirry. Gondwyn was a stark contrast to the peregrine sigil on his vest, one that was almost totally covered by the monstrosity that was his beard. Braided as it was, even accented with golden bands, the stocky, short man still had the chocolate brown bush rather unkempt. Known as the Dwarf of the South, more on stature than on any likeness to the Dwemer, he owned that title, wearing it as a badge of honor. "If ya don't let it bother ya, than it only drives them crazier," he always said, usually added with a hearty, booming roll of laughter. Duke Irbran Theirry was the youngest man in the room, barely more than a pre-teen. His blonde hair was perfectly fixed, and his face fair as a maiden. He was a stranger to battle, but it would slight his family, renowned sailors boasting a sinking ship emblem, so he was allowed to meet in the war room. Edwistyr Vette and Irbran Theirry both swore fealty to Camlorn, while Paul Gondwyn and Jhared Mon kneeled to Daggerfall. Lord Estermont's men had traveled onward, attempting to bolster their forces in anticipation of the upcoming war. It was that war that brought Theo into this room, and he took his place at the head of the map filled table. The chair groaned from his size as he sat, but no one commented and they pretended not to notice. "King Theodore," they said in unison, with the young Theirry's voice cracking as teenage boy's voices was like to do. "Gentlemen. What information have you, Lord Estermont?" Theodore asked the most experienced war leader in the room. His land bordering the Wrothgarians, he constantly fell under the threat of roving Orcish bandits, and this was more experienced than anyone else in the room as battles and war. "It would seem that Wayrest has bowed to Evermor, along with Jehanna. Farrun is loyal to you, but extremely isolated. Some factions of Evermor, such as Baron Farr, are loyal to you, but they have little hope of showing outward resistance, lest they be completely wiped out," Derric Estermont spoke confidently when it came to war, breaking off his speech to take a swig of malt beer that left traces of foam in his medium length black an gray beard. "What of Northpoint? Any news from them?" Edwistyr Vette asked, fingering the family ring on his hand as he did. "Nothin' I heard. Last I knew they seemed like to remain neutral. Bugger them I say. They'll come around once we whoop the traitors," Paul Gondwyn said, voice deep and loud. "No. Northpoint joining our cause adds the legitimacy that will persuade some minor nobles to loose themselves from the she witch Lielle's grasp. As of now, the table is evenly set, and I'm sure she's calling herself queen and asking for help. So, if we can take the line neutral piece, it'll all but ensure our victory," Theodore spoke in a commanding tone, asserting his dominance per the men. None of them minded, even as independent as Lord Estermont was the concession made to him and his honorably nature were enough to keep him truly loyal. All Theodore had had to do was promise him a commanding role in the upcoming conflict against Lielle Rolston and the Thalmor and he came over quite easily. Things would get much trickier when bartering with The Lord of Northpoint however. "Next order of business, what plan have you drawn up?" the king asked. "Two prongs of attack. One will march south to besiege Wayrest, while the other sails north to assist Farrun," Estermont said, tracing the large with his fingers on the map. "Let me add to that," Theo said, smiling a sly smile. "You, Derric, will take a force of green boys and old men through the mountains. Their scouts will catch wind no doubt, and seeing as you are the obvious choice to command will think that the main force. We will keep the northern assistance to Farrun the same, although that relies on more Northpoint help than I'd like. The southern assault will change. I think that once they figure out that you are coming, they'll be blind to another sea born attack from Daggerfall. Their armies will have left Wayrest defenseless, and open to us for the taking." Lord Estermont smiled a wide grin, shaking his head in mocking fashion. "This might actually work, as I'm the only one crazy enough to do it. So it seems settled, one fleet sail north from Camlorn, one south from Daggerfall, and a third marches through the mountains." "I'll have to treat with Northpoint for this to work, so I leave on the morrow. Duke Mon, what is the financial situation? And have my ships from Leland arrived?" Theodore asked the hunched, older man. "I've received word that the major shipping companies will provide us with provisions, which are already on their way. As for your ships, they arrived an hour or so ago, crewed by the men you left," Jhared Mon said, rubbing his hands together a he spoke. "Good, we'll have them sail for Farrun, while my ships will sail south to meet the Daggerfall fleet. I plan to sail with my men to Wayrest, along with Duke Mon and Gondwyn's men, while you, Estermont, will take and split your force between the Farrun fleet and the mountain force. When Northpoint joins, they'll sail for Farrun as well. Now, take and send out orders for the men to prepare to leave upon my return from Northpoint. I want us at full battle readiness as soon as Northpoint agrees to join us," Theodore ordered his noblemen, the leaving as they began to pen orders to their troops. The king meanwhile went straight for his room, where his son and wife were waiting with supper on the table. "Everything settled?" Elayne Adrard asked, beginning to help herself to the food. "Yes, the war plan is in place while I have received permission to utilize the legion forces. They'll never know what hit them, when all is said and done," Theo responded with a smile. "Well, I'm glad that all straightened out. Wouldn't want to have to do things the hard way. You'll be happy to hear that I'm late," Elayne said without missing a beat. Both Theodore and Roland began coughing, as if they were chocking on food from the lack of subtly the mom/wife had used. Theo coughed a little longer, finally whiling away the dribble on his lips. Roland, who'd waited on his father to stop coughing before speaking, said, "Gods mother, you just enjoy ruining dinner don't you? And now I have to deal with a little sibling running amok." "Don't be rude Roland, this is great news, if a little ill timed. This is what we'd been trying for after all, and I'm glad to see my seed is still strong as ever, harhar!" Theodore said, deciding to increase his sons level of discomfort. "Shut up!" Roland yelled out, putting his hands over his ears. "I'd rather not hear about your sex life while I eat." "Oh please, it's not like we don't hear about yours all the time," Elayne said slyly. "Half the maids and serving girls in this castle believe you're going to make them a very pretty Lady someday. Leading them on like that isn't very nice." "It's not my fault they think they can rise above their station just because I allow them to share my bed," Roland started eating again, glad the topic was his night life and not his parents. "You'll be happy to hear, Roland, that we decided to let you join the war. Wasn't too hard to convince your mother, even as protective as she is. I was thinking you could sail to Farrun, accompanying Duke Vette and his men. I want someone I trust watching the Northpoint men in case something happens, and sending both of you and some of Estermont's men will ensure they'll match up with at least even number if they betray us. Which, I doubt they will. Also, you may want to have your armor shined, as I suspect a wedding is in your future," Theodore said, enjoying himself as it was his wife's turn to be surprised. "Excuse me, what do you mean, honey?" she asked, the word 'honey' sounding almost venomous. "Dear, he is almost 18, and if we wait any longer he'll never marry. I also believe that will be a concession Northpoint will be adamant about, some kind of marriage to seal our alliance. Frankly, it isn't a bad idea, but I thought you had better know before Roland and I left tomorrow," Theodore said calmly, while devouring his food decidedly not calmly. "Fine. But that doesn't mean I have to like the harlot," Elayne spat out. "You haven't even met the poor girl yet and you already hate her. This will make family gatherings awful," Roland said, all game for the idea. He longed for a companion, which is why he filled that void with numerous amounts of maids. "Although, I can think of a dozen or so people who may be jealous." "Right you are, we'll have to keep a sharp eye out for poisonous soup," Theo said with a chuckle. They family finished their dinner, then ran off to bed in anticipation of the long ride ahead of two of its members.

Rebec, Baldur Alik'r Desert Day Rebec stirred, coughed, then gasped for breath as the sand in her throat made her feel like she was choking. Dimly she heard voices and felt hands pulling on her, dragging her up from the sand that partially buried her. Remembering the battle suddenly, Rebec panicked and began to fight whoever was pulling on her, but she calmed when she heard Suri’s voice. They poured water over her eyes, which were swollen shut, and let her drink a little. Stinging pain cut through her back and shoulders. Clutching at Suri, she gasped, “Baldur. Baldur...†“He’s gone, Aunt Rebec,†Suri answered sadly. “I’m so sorry.†“Dead?†“Just gone. Kematu is out scouting, maybe he can tell us something soon.†Suri’s voice sounded dubious. “Come over here, sit down and let us tend your wounds.†Rebec hardly felt anything as Suri removed her armor and began cleaning the cuts and bruises. As moisture let her eyesight return, she saw that the sky was now a brilliant blue, the sandstorm gone as quickly as it had come on, the landscape a clean white as if scoured. Scattered provisions and dead bodies were gradually revealed as the wind cleared the grains away. Others were digging out and being tended to, both Necro Nords and redguard. Two of the bakyaka huddled nearby, and soon Rebec saw a Nord leading one of the horses back to their smashed caravan. Seeing Kematu appear, Rebec jumped up and over Suri’s protests, ran over to him. “What did you see? Where have they taken Baldur?†Before the mercenary could speak, from behind Rebec a woman’s voice intoned, “There is nothing you can do. Your mate and his companion are offerings to Tava now.†Rebec whirled. It was the female guide who had been watching her the night before. The admiral stabbed a finger into the woman's chest. “Someone else is going to be an offering for your bird god! We’re going after them.†The woman brushed Rebec’s hand away and gave Kematu a withering look, as if to say you deal with them, if you like Nords so much. Kematu's stare was hard, but it was through Rebec, not at her. This was the last thing he needed right now, the very last. Whatever reason he lost so many of his men to his second, those two were somehow related. But now he only had one, and he was slighted by his enemy again for the second time. But it couldn't be helped. "We need to move on. Nothing's changed. You're the High Admiral of Skyrim, so now you alone speak for Ulfric. You still have a mission to finish, and my enemies still want you." Rebec turned back, her eyes wild. "We're going to find Baldur. There is no discussion about this. They flew off..." She paused and looked around, trying to get her bearings, but she had none. Desperation clawed her along with frustration, but she forced both down with a will. "Where were they headed? That's where we're going. Do you know where these creatures nest? You must know something about them." "We don't know anything about where they went, Nord. They don't nest, not in any one spot for long, anyway. They move around, hunting in the desert. Just as we do. Nothing in the desert stays in the same place for long, like the sand in the wind. Wherever they're taking your husband, it's their temporary meeting spot to feed together. Like a pack." A Necro Nord came up to the pair and said, "Admiral, the Queen's second is gone too. We found his staff in the sand and the General's axes." The soldier handed the two's belongings over, then said, "What's our next move?" "We keep going," said Kematu forcibly. "We search for them," Rebec said almost in unison with Kematu, and with equal force. From behind them, Suri spoke. She was gazing at her compass. "The storm came out of the north. The creatures were flying parallel to the front. They went east." She paused, then pointed out towards the horizon. "That direction... I think." "That's good enough for me." Rebec took Baldur's axes and Menel's staff, and took them over towards a bakyaka. "Gather what you can, men, but all we really need is food and water. We have to have speed now." "Damn it, you stubborn Nords! We don't have time to delay ourselves any further, I need to deal with these upstarts, you need to talk to the Crowns. The Oasis invitation was clearly a trap, but my men are there, waiting, probably with no idea we were attacked. If those ambushers get back and they think I'm dead, my men will be dead and the power struggle in the Alik'r will continue. You don't want that, you need our numbers for the war. Now I'm sorry that your friends are d-" Kematu paused, when he realized his mistake and silently cursed. "We have to move." Falgrum stepped forward now, as did some of the other soldiers with hands going for weapons as if Kematu just admitted to killing the two himself. "Watch your ******* mouth, Redguard." "Or you'll what? I'll say it again, they're dead," said Kematu, letting anger get to him, which wasn't like him. But his Alik'r warrior band was at stake. "And if they're not, they'll make their way to the meeting point, just like us." Rebec turned around. "We're going to look for them, with or without you. Baldur is one half of this diplomatic mission and we're not just going to abandon him and Menel- our queen's second, in case you got sand in your ears- without even trying to rescue them. And if we all die, then it will be known that you abandoned diplomats under your protection and your enemies succeeded. How will that look for your men?" "You realize what a waste of time searching for him is, right? You're assuming the harpies didn't change direction, and that they're traveling in a straight line. We waste more time and my men get attacked, then your diplomatic mission in the Alik'r is over. That happens, and the Crowns and Forebear won't have the confidence to make any negotiations with you. We're a lot more important to this region than you realize, Nord." Falgrum stepped forward now, then said, "Then let's get moving. I'll follow you to the meeting while the High Admiral searches." "Who the hell are you, exactly?" Kematu said. "I need the High Admiral with me. I don't know who you are, and neither will they. They want her and I have her. She's the only bargaining piece I have." "That isn't true, I'm the Necro Nord Commander, which means I'm in charge. General Brund may outrank me in the Stormcloaks, but among us, I outrank him, which means I have say over these men, and when High General Red-Snow's gone, I serve in his stead. So that means I can speak for Skyrim until the Admiral returns. With or without him. So I'm promoting myself to High General. Now move your ass and let's go if you're in such a hurry. And if they don't like me, then they'll have no choice but to wait on her anyway," said Falgrum. "They'd just kill us if that was the case. You better be ri-" "I am," the Nord Commander said, cutting Kematu off. It wasn't true what he said about speaking for Baldur. Unless Rebec died too, he was still just a body guard, and he couldn't promote himself to High General either. But there wasn't any other way to resolve the issue at the moment, so Falgrum was going to have to play diplomat in the mean time. Looking at Rebec, he winked with his good eye when Kematu wasn't looking. Rebec's hand had tightened its grip on her axe hilt as the Alik'r talked about "having" her, but she relaxed it when a deal had been struck. She wanted Falgrum and Kematu with her, all the better to find Baldur, but if they came to blows then she would be no closer to helping him. "That's settled then. The guides will come with me, since you know where you're going. One bakyaka apiece." The female guide spoke up. "We can go faster without a beast. Carry water on our backs." That sounded like suicide, but when Rebec looked at Suri, the young woman nodded. "Speed. We'll take some provisions on the horse." "Alright then, it's settled." Rebec wasted no more time talking, though there was some discussion among the Necro Nords about how many would go with her. Most of them felt responsible for her and Baldur, but she directed half to accompany Falgrum. If there was a trap waiting for him up ahead, they would not go down easily. Still, as she looked back at Falgrum and Kematu, Rebec thought it was far more likely that they would get out of it alive than she would. Kematu didn't waste time with goodbyes, and Falgrum knew time was of the essence, so he headed off quickly with Kematu and the eight other Necro Nords ordered to follow him. Rebec got nine others, as two were killed in the ambush. Which made eighteen of them left, not counting Baldur. "Nords. Foolish. This is why you don't marry high ranking officers and have them lead armies. Now your blasted High Admiral's off chasing her dead husband and I'm stuck with y-" Kematu was cut off by the sudden appearance of a Nordic Carved Greatsword in his face the length of a child. Kematu stared at the point, but his expression was the same. Falgrum's was not. The other Nords stood by, waiting to see how it would play out. "Say it. Say it one more time, desert rat, and your brains will paint the sand." Kematu nodded with his head below him, and Falgrum could see the Redguard had his sword out as well, pointing to his gut, as well as a glowing green hand. "You've got reach. I've got a paralysis spell. I wonder who's faster, Nord. You don't want to find out. We'll both end up dead," said Kematu. "I'm a Grim One. I'm already dead. Now move, asshole." Kematu sheathed his blade, as did Falgrum, then they continued on their journey silently for the remainder of the trip. *** As they walked along, Rebec tried to keep her fear at bay. It would only cloud her judgment, and she needed all her wits if she were to get Suri and herself out of this alive, let alone rescue her husband and Menel. Suri came up alongside. “Aunt Rebec...†“I don’t want to talk about it, Suri. Let’s just keep concentrating on the way ahead. Look for any traces, something they might have dropped as clues of where they were taken, feathers...†It was implausible that the desert wind would have left anything like that. Even as they spoke, it was raking across the sands, erasing tracks. But then the guide did see something. She pointed at a dark stain on the sand. “Their leavings.†Rebec bent down to examine the stain, then wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Harpy scat smells worse than troll. Well, we know we’re on the right trail.†As evening drew in, they came to the ruins of an abandoned town built partially into some red cliff walls. Mud huts extended outward, most of them crumbled in. Rebec didn’t want to stop, but the guide convinced her that they should rest until the moons were high and could allow them to continue on. She lay on her bedroll, acutely aware that the warm body she had grown accustomed to sleeping next to wasn’t there. Hold on, Baldur. You survived the war and Thalmor torture, you can survive this. When they started moving again, the guide insisted they turn south. “The warrior, he told you half the truth,†she said. “He didn’t want you to know so that you would follow him instead. We know a place Tava’s children like. Bad place. I hope you can hear the drums of your ancestors calling you. You will need their guidance to the Far Shores today, I think.†“Guess she hasn’t heard of Sovngarde,†one of the Nords grumbled. As they came up over a dune later that day, the guide pointed towards a line of ridges, blood red with streaks of mineral green and blue. “Bad place.†The admiral took out her spyglass and searched the cliffs. There was no movement, but she thought she saw piles of brush grass and wood that looked like bird nests. That made her heart race with hope. “Let’s go.†As the group reached the first line of hills, there was a screech and the flap of large wings. What appeared over the ridge wasn’t a harpy, however. The creature had the body of a sleek sabre cat, a serpentine face with a row of fangs, compact wings that let it hop short distances and pounce, and on the back was a curved stinger like a scorpion’s, only much larger. The redguard guides shouted in dismay, “MANTAKYA-KAUR!†Rebec didn’t stand around to gawk at the fearsome-looking beast. She had her crossbow out and firing at it before the long name was off the redguards’ lips. The Necro Nords’ discipline also showed, and they formed a defensive circle around Rebec and Suri, swords and axes ready. The monster swerved when it saw the defenders. Rebec’s bolt stuck in its foreleg, though it hardly seemed to notice. Flying across to the ridge behind them, the manticore paced, snarling down at them. Rebec loaded another bolt and fired it towards the creature’s neck. Hissing as it struck, the beast batted at the bolt with one clawed foot, but kept pacing. They didn’t hear the other manticore until one of the Nords gave a yell and went rigid, his eyes bulging from the poison of the creature’s sting. The man’s neighbor gave a battle cry that made the creature pause, but as the Nord rushed it, the manticore stood up on its hind legs and grasped him as if in a deadly embrace, its fangs snapping at his neck. Blood shot out from the man’s headless neck as the manticore tossed the man’s head aside, still helmeted. The creature then turned its eyes on Rebec, exposed by the gap in the line. In the meantime the first manticore had leapt down on the defenders from the other side and was thrashing around as sword and axe tried to make cuts in its tough hide, the fighters always having to dodge the stinger. “Aunt Rebec!†Suri saw the second manticore preparing to charge her aunt. Rebec had dropped her crossbow and drawn her axes. Out of instinct more than planning, Suri shouted at the creature and waved her arms. “Hey you! Hey! Over here!†The manticore stopped and turned its eyes on Suri, now seemingly undecided about which target to go after. It started forward slowly, leonine, but even the beast stopped when something else came over the ridge. It looked like sand devils, but these made straight for the warrior group, and sometimes there appeared to be a woman’s body with glowing eyes amidst the swirling grains of sand. They were sand wraiths, attracted to the sound of battle, and they swept into the valley, attacking man and manticore alike. Rebec cursed and shouted over at Suri. “Let’s finish this one. When it charges, you go right and I go left. Then let me handle it. Grab your bow and let loose.†The manticore paced, appearing to consider retreating, but its mate was in the thick of battle and its own rage got the better of it. With a growl it began to run, and took a leap towards Suri, who sprung aside and had to roll to miss the stinger that came over the beast’s head and tried to pin her. Rebec advanced quickly and brought both axes down in unison, slashing the manticore’s hind quarter. The beast roared and buckled, turning around to look for its tormentor. In that moment, Suri got to her feet and lifted her sword, ready to plunge it into the beast’s head, but the manticore saw the motion and reacted with a swipe of its powerful clawed hand that knocked the redguard aside like a doll. Rebec dislodged her axes and struck again, this time at the stinger, burying Kyne’s Talon so deeply that the stinger lopped sideways on its own weight. The manticore stumbled and shrieked, but with a growl it clawed forward, eyes intent on Suri. The girl was on the ground, scrambling back. “Aunt Rebec!†Suri’s voice was panicky. There was more reason to panic than she knew. Behind them, a sand wraith was coming towards them, drinking up the blood that congealed on the sand. Rebec saw it and knew they had little time. Her niece had little time. Desperate, Rebec remembered a weapon she possessed that in the right circumstance was even more powerful than an axe- but would it work? Turning Jodun’s ring around on her hand, Rebec slammed her palm down on the manticore’s flank. The serpent stone on the ring glowed as its power was engaged. Shuddering, the manticore stumbled sideways and fell. It was still growling and the stinger moved lazily, so it was not paralyzed completely, but incapacitated for now. Rebec ran to meet the wraith. How do you fight sand? Damn quickly, that’s how. Rebec used one arm to shield her face while she slashed back and forth at the center of the whirling mass. Burning hot sand blistered her skin. The wraith didn’t bleed, but it jerked at every blow and seemed to weaken. Suri had found her bow and was shooting arrows into its center as well. Finally the sand cyclone dissipated in a yellow flash as the demon in it was sent back to Oblivion. Rebec turned, and her mouth fell open in horror. “SURI! WATCH OUT!†Behind the redguard, the manticore had struggled to its feet. Its stinger reached forward and prodded Suri’s back, then the manticore opened its maw, sunk its fangs into her, and flung its head, tossing Suri through the air and into a cliff face. Her body hit the rock with a thud and crumpled to the ground, motionless. The admiral screamed, stood rooted a moment, then her horror turned to rage. Baldur was probably dead, and now this overgrown lizard lion was hoping to turn her family into a meal. Sheathing her axes, Rebec drew her rope, swung the lasso, and aimed it towards the beast’s head. The loop closed over the manticore’s neck, and before it could react, Rebec ran forward, wrapped the other end around the creature’s stinger, and knotted it quickly to hobble the creature’s movement. If it were at full strength, the manticore could no doubt snap the rope, but already injured and still suffering effects from the ring’s paralysis power, it tried to turn towards Rebec and stumbled. It was enough that Rebec could draw her axes and hack at the stinger until it fell aside, useless. She then came around and buried her axes again and again into the creature’s skull until its head was a bloody mess, the jaws snapping ineffectually. Suri was unconscious, her own blood pooling beneath her. Her body was so rigid that Rebec was reminded of the stiffness of the dead bodies she had buried in the war, but Suri’s skin was still warm. She was paralyzed from the manticore’s poison, not dead. The other manticore lay dead, as well, and the survivors began going around helping their comrades. The redguard guide came over to where Rebec struggled to get Suri’s armor off. The guide bent down and pulled Suri’s eyelids back. Her pupils were as big as saucers. Frowning, the guide said, “We must go quickly. Cannot stay here. Others will come. I know a place.†At Rebec’s hesitation, the woman said, “Your mate may be dead, but this woman will also die if we stay.†Rebec looked past her at the decimated group of Nords and redguard, many bleeding from injuries and marked with burns. They were in no shape to fight anything right now. She looked back at Suri. The girl’s face was ashen. “Hang on, Suri,†Rebec whispered. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.†The horse was nearby, trembling like a leaf but unhurt. They made a litter and laid Suri and other injured on it. The dead they would have to leave behind. Rebec was numb as they walked. She had known this trip was dangerous, but the desert was grinding them down one by one. If it left her alive and took the others... No. I’m going to save them both. It was twilight when they saw a structure made of dark blue stone, square with towers at the corners, set up on a plateau. It appeared deserted, but when they knocked on the high door, it eventually opened. The guide spoke dialect with someone within, and they were admitted. “What is this place?†Rebec asked her. “It is a holy place. One of the last like it. They revere the Ebon Arm.†Rebec paused, staring after her. Suri revered Ebonarm and considered him her patron. This had to be a good omen... didn’t it? The inner courts were echoing and cool, though they occasionally saw dark-robed figures. There were only a few sconces burning, but moonslight shown through the windows in the room where Rebec and Suri were installed. Two indigo-robed female healers came in to check their wounds. “Her first.†Rebec pointed at where Suri lay on the bed, still unconscious. The faces of the women were grave as they examined the girl, though when one turned to Rebec, she smiled and nodded once at being asked how Suri was doing. “You must rest,†the healer said as she bathed and dressed Rebec’s wounds. “This one is infected.†It was one of the older tears from the harpy claws. Still, Rebec fought sleep, sitting in a chair by Suri’s bed, and trying not to think of Baldur. Sometime during the night, a wiry old redguard man appeared at the door. He was robed, but wore an ebony sword at his side. He nodded once at Rebec. “My name is Asafu. I am Ansei here.†“Rebec Red-Snow, High Admiral of Skyrim. Thank you for helping us.†The Ebonarm priest nodded, then folded his hands and regarded Suri for a long moment. Gesturing, he said finally, “I wonder, does she go to the Far Shores or to Sovngarde?†Bristling, Rebec sat up. “She’s not going to either one.†“She is already there.†Rebec turned to look at Suri, her heart thumping. “No, you’re wrong.†As she took the girl’s hand, however, she found it still stiff, and this time cold. From the door the Ansei said, “The poison of the mantakya-kaur, it lodges in the heart, weakens it. Sometimes the heart cannot recover. You did not reach us in time. I am sorry.†“No. No, no.†Rebec brushed her hand over Suri’s forehead and willed the girl’s eyes to open. No, no, no, no, not Suri. Not Baldur. Rebec climbed into the bed and curled up against Suri’s lifeless form, arm thrown over her protectively. She felt like she was falling from a great height. She hadn’t reached the bottom before sleep overtook her. *** Earlier just after the storm A great gust of wind passed by. And then another. And another, but this time stronger. All around it was dark, but Baldur could feel air pressing against his face. He opened his eyes now, and when he did, Skyrim's fair blankets covering the ground greeted his sight below his feet, very far away. The confusion of the sight passed when the shrieking cry of a mighty bird of prey called up above him. His neck was stiff from looking down so long as he slept, but he willed himself to look up. Greeting his vision was the sight of a beautiful and very large hawk-like creature, which was holding him between its powerful claws, wrapped around his body. Feeling him stir, the bird looked down at him and seemed to be smiling, even though that was not possible. It was more of a feeling than anything else. He at first was terrified of being so high, but strangely, the higher the bird soared, the safer he felt. It was almost nostalgic, the view of the sky before him. As if he was once up here before. Wearily, he said, "Where are we going?" The bird let out another striking cry, this one so loud that Baldur's ears reverberated from the sound. But he had a sense that the thing said home. He smiled at that and nestled in her talons. Feeling once again safe in her embrace. Suddenly, Baldur heard a loud hiss from below him, which sent chills down his spine, and he could sense that the bird holding him felt the same feeling. Below him was the form of a grey and hideous giant snake, baring its fangs at the mighty bird and Baldur as well. It was covered in a cloud of ash, so he couldn't quite make out its full size, but it was large. Very large. The more it hissed, the more Baldur thought he could understand what it was saying. "Home is with me! You know it well. Come down here and stay with me. You're mine." The great snake shot up at them with a velocity that seemed impossible for anything that large. When he did, it released from its sides what looked like a sort of hood within its skin that made its body look larger, and there was a large cavity in the middle of the thing's body. A hole missing from it. Instinctively Baldur knew it was the thing's heart, but he got the feeling this particular snake's real missing heart wasn't something he could see. The sight of it made him melancholic, as if he remembered the thing that took it from him. The thing's face then changed, and for a second Baldur thought it stole his face away, as it looked just like him. No, it wasn't him. Someone else, someone different, someone bad. Strangely enough, a part of him wanted to go with the snake. But the presence of the bird made him want to stay much more. But he wasn't sure that would be up to him. As large as the snake was, it couldn't raise up quite high enough to get to him, but when it opened its mouth, it shot out two large streams of venom so great in size, that they looked like green rivers rushing towards them. The bird skillfully dodged what it could, but there was just so much. The bird was struck in its wings, and the venom ate away at it like a corroding acid. It gave another powerful shriek, but in its pain, it let go of Baldur, causing him to fall at great velocity towards the head of the snake. The thing hissed again, as if it was laughing, then said, "Soon, you'll be home!" Baldur looked away back to the skies, watching as the great bird dived towards him to try and reach him. and he reached out towards her with his hand, but he just got further and further away.... The great bird shrieked again, but this time its call sounded closer, but not as mighty. It was an ugly screech that filled him with dread. A sharp pain went off immediately after that on the tip of his head, as if the thing pecked him, but it was too far away for that. Another peck struck him in his skull again, then.... "Ahhh! ****!" Baldur suddenly snapped out of his dream, but for a second, he wondered if he was still dreaming. He felt the same air, but this time it was much hotter. And there was something in his eye stinging him. Some liquid that he could feel on his head falling over his face. Blood. He saw it drip down on his chest, from the sharp pain in his head. Then far below his feet, he could see not the welcoming sight of snow, but the harsh blazing bright light coming from the tan sand of Hammerfell's deserts as he soared high above them. Then the memory of what happened hit him like a tidal wave. The pain in his shoulders from talons lodged deep into him also confirmed where he was. A black mass above his head flapping in the air filled in the rest. The last thing he remembered was seeing Rebec grow smaller and smaller as he went higher and higher into the air, carried away by the abhorrent monsters of his nightmares. Seeing that, he let out a panicked cry of fear and disgust from the close proximity. He could see its grotesque looking bosom flapping in the air as well, and blood was dripping down from his shoulder while he struggled. "I must have blacked out from the pain. Or blood-loss. You ******* bird! Let me go! Wait, on second thought, don't let me go!" he said, realizing just how high they were. Looking around in a panic, Baldur could make out the shapes of other harpies nearby, looking back at him from the noise he made. One of them had a round looking figure under it, being carried in the same manner as he was. The blood in his eye prevented him from seeing clearly, but he was sure it was another person. "Hey! Who's there?" he said, squinting at the person in the air with his left eye in vain. The round lump under the other bird stirred and groaned. Menel had had no visions or dreams during his flight across the Alik'r. He blacked out from fright and lack of oxygen early on. Now that he was somewhat conscious, he wished he'd never woken up at all. Spitting feathers out of his mouth, he glanced over, saw Baldur, then realized how far they were off the ground and nearly passed out again. "Oh, I'm not here, this isn't happening," he moaned. "I'm near a warm fire and the meat's almost done..." Baldur's eyes squinted from the familiar voice, then he said, "Menel? I should have known that voluptuous body was yours! You okay?" Baldur still couldn't see, and tried to move his arms, but he realized he couldn't feel them at the moment. Perhaps it was the pain shooting down from his shoulders that made them numb, or the blood-loss, but whatever it was, they felt as if they were missing. But he found that with concentration he could make them move still, albeit stiffly. Using his hands to wipe away the blood, he could finally clearly see the Bosmer wizard beside him a little ways off. "Are you making a pass at me, Red-Snow? This is hardly the time." The elf shifted, testing the harpy's grip, but it only caused the bird to lodge her talons more firmly around his shoulders. Anyway, it was a long way down. He strained to look over at Baldur and shouted over, "I hope you have a plan, General. I don't want to get wherever they're going." Baldur looked below his feet dangling in the air, then around at the creatures by him, and back to Menel. Now that he could move his arms, the feeling was slowly starting to come back, but not quickly enough for his liking. He lifted them slowly up to look at his shaking hands, and then brought them to fists in anger. He had no plan. "We're fucked." Baldur took a look at his wedding ring, and the blue eyed snake made him think on his dream. No, I don't want to go just yet. I've got to get back to my family. Baldur lifted his arms a bit higher, but the more he did, the more pain shot up from his shoulders to throughout his arms. "Gah, damnit!" Baldur took another look at his wedding ring, then finally knew what he had to do. "I've got a plan, but you're not gonna like it. How much can you move your arms?" Menel flapped his arms a bit, looking like a sick bird himself. "A little. When you say I won't like it, I hope you're being dramatic." "Don't worry, you have magic. This may be easier for you. And really, anything we do can't be any worse than being eaten by these ******* things right?" "Oh, I see, it's all up to me, is it?" The truth was that casting spells required mental discipline. Meanwhile, Menel was about to piss his fancy redguard armor. "Not quite, but your magic sure would help right about now," Baldur yelled, sounding annoyed. "Well, I can't really get you to help me, but you can help yourself. When I say go, I want you to cast a calm spell on the thing holding you. Make sure you're grabbing the thing's leg first! It may loosen it's grip when you do so. Then climb up on its back. After that...you gotta persuade it to land. Force it any way you can. As for me, I'll improvise. You ready?" "Are you serious?! That's your big plan?" Grumbling, Menel paused to collect his thoughts. He had known a Calm spell, once, before his life started flashing before his eyes. Taking a deep breath to concentrate didn't help, as he just swallowed a feather and started choking. "Oh gods," he said when he could breathe again, his tone miserable. "We're going to die." "Shut it, you're a Stormcloak remember! That talk is for milkdrinkers, and I know you're not. At least this way we got a chance to fight these things. Don't kill it, just torment it. We should be able to make these things flop d- Ahh!" The harpie carrying Baldur apparently didn't like all the chatter going on between the two, and pecked him right on the open wound on the top of his skull. "Damnit that's it! We're going now." Baldur thought back to what he said to Suri about liking to fight, and how that had changed. He didn't care before if he died because there was nothing to hold on to. But now..."Uh, Menel. In case I do die...tell Rebec..." Looking down below his feet and at the blood trickling from his arm, he realized just how screwed they both really were. This may be the last moments of his life after all. The realization of it just hit him at that moment, and the thought of Rebec being alone, maybe even remarrying one day made him sick in his stomach. He didn't really think she would, but with time, who really knew? Maybe to some captain, like that Bel Aksim guy... "No, **** that! We're getting out of this right now. No more talk, on my count, Menel..." "Oh, why do I always end up in spots like this. It's always me." Menel fought back the nausea and panic, thinking about Baldur's mention of his wife. He didn't have any such reasons to get out of this mess, but the Nord did, and he himself wasn't ready to die. Not in such humiliating fashion. "Alright, alright. Calm spell in three, two..." The Bosmer cut off to mumble the spell's incantation, and painfully reached his right hand up and back, hoping it was aimed at the harpy and not empty air or his own head. Baldur saw the aura of green light surround the creature, and immediately began to work. "It hit! Grab its leg before it lets go!" Baldur raised his right arm quickly, ignoring the pain of the creature's dagger like talons going deeper into his flesh as he reached up. Yelling out from the pain as he grabbed its leg, Baldur reached over with his left hand at the same leg and pulled his head closer to it, causing tears to come into his eyes before he was finally close enough to clench his teeth into the now madly squawking harpy's leg. Hang on- that was the part Menel forgot. It was always something. The relaxed, happy harpy slowed her flapping and loosened her grip, forgetting what she had intended to do with the rotund elf in the first place. Then it was Menel's turn to claw, kick and scramble to hold on to her leg. "Aaaaaagghhhh!" His grip was loosening when the harpy, sick of all the nonsense and just wanting to go home, shook her leg violently to try to loose its burden. Fortunately for Menel, she had the most force on the upswing, and instead of dropping like a rock, he was flung upward towards the harpy's side. The Bosmer grabbed one, then another feather that simply came loose in his hand. "Oh Yffre! Oh ancestors!" Menel wailed, and the harpy squawked, not liking this circumstance anymore than he. She dipped and turned, stretching out her wings to glide, hoping it would shake the noisome bug off. Menel lay prone, stretched out on the harpy's outstretched wing, afraid to move. They were careening towards some mineral-painted mountains, and he guessed they were nearing the eyrie. Sheer survival instinct made him crawl painfully, slowly, up the harpy's wing towards its back. Once there, he buried his hands in feathers and hung on. Now what? He looked back to try and catch a glimpse of the general. Baldur's ordeal hadn't gone as smoothly as planned. The bird was attacking him as if frenzied, and while beating at him with her wings to get him off her leg, the two started to rise up higher, before eventually the bird abandoned trying to hit him all together and instead soared up very quickly, then down to try and throw him up and away from her. At one point, Baldur actually lost his grip completely, but he managed to grab a wing at the very last second, which he now hanged on to for dear life. He was being swung around like a ragdoll, flapping around along with her wing, while she tried taking out his eyes with her beak. Baldur could see the other harpies coming after him now, five total. He was running out of time. Baldur losing all options repeatedly punched at the harpie's head with his right hand while the left one hanged on to a wing. Every time she came in to peck, Baldur connected with a swing. It didn't always hit her; sometimes he'd hit a beak instead, and now his fist was bleeding as well, and all the shaking of the wings made him throw up. But he kept on punching and punching, until finally one connected hard enough. Perhaps too hard. The bird lost all its senses and fell from the sky like a rock at an alarming rate. Baldur screamed as the two interlocked foes flew straight between the crowd of harpies coming at them. The harpy Baldur was holding on to collided in a explosion of feathers with another harpy in mid air. Baldur had the wind knocked out of him, as did the creature, but they soon recovered, and the second harpy flew around the now unconscious one, beating it off of her with her wings before finally straightening up, and descending to reach the harpy Menel was on. It hadn't noticed the extra weight at first, due to having been dazed from the impact, but Baldur was clinging to its back, and holding onto its feathers for dear life. The bird did some aerial maneuvers, flying around in a spiral, but the Nord grabbed its neck and was going nowhere. Baldur's eyes were closed while it flipped, but he felt like throwing up again all the same. Stealing a glance at his wedding ring one last time, Baldur knew what he had to do. He wouldn't like it, but it was time he made this freak land. "Birds don't always beat snakes, bitch!" After pulling his head back, Baldur let out a long battlecry, then slammed his open mouth onto the neck of the bird before sinking his teeth into her flesh enough to taste its blood. It was disgusting, a sickly sweet taste that was unexpected, but it only made him angry and sink his teeth deeper. His arms and legs did not remain idle. They both squeezed around the bird's body for all that the Nord was worth, like a boa constrictor. The effect was immediate. The Nord and the bird started falling down, but at an angle, which let Baldur know the creature had enough control to slow down. Otherwise, it would have fallen straight down like the other harpy did. It was trying to scare him, and it started squawking and flapping around madly when Baldur decided to squeeze and bite even harder. The other harpies were in pursuit as the Nord general descended towards the sand of the Alik'r desert. Menel's eyes fixed not on Baldur, but on the other harpies who had come to fight their sisters over the prizes. Eyes widening, the Bosmer realized that time really was growing short for this adventure to end. "Um, alright.... let's see..." Still clinging to the harpy's back, he began to riffle through his mental bag of magic tricks. He was interrupted once when the harpy squawked angrily, a sign that the Calm spell had worn off. Menel cast the spell again, putting the harpy back into blissful apathy, then decided on an experiment. His mastery of alteration was chancy at best, but he had studied paralysis on some hapless apprentices. Waiting until the harpy was in glide mode again, he tried the spell. It had the effect he hoped- the harpy was frozen into her gliding stance. Menel shifted forward carefully to adjust the weight, and both harpy and elf began to dip towards the ground. It required several more castings until the harpy was so close to the ground that Menel could safely tumble off her back- but then, he found himself paralyzed, not by magic but by fear. The thought of bones cracking and being impaled on sharp stones kept him on the harpy's back. She started to climb again. Finally, desperate, Menel cast the paralysis spell once more, spied a dune he hoped would give him a soft landing, and jumped, screaming all the way down until he hit the ground with a thud and started rolling down the slope. Baldur's ride wasn't quite as smooth, but the descent was steady. One of the other harpies caught up to the pair however, and was trying to get a grip on Baldur, but his shield was still on his back, preventing any grabbing from his behind. It tried to desperately grip at the furiously flapping cape fabric from under the shield, but he was going too fast, and the harpy's claws tore straight through the cape's bottom. The two soared over the rocks Menel glided over, and the bird desperately tried scraping Baldur off on them by flying upside down, but the shield once again prevailed, making loud scraping noises as the two surfaces collided. Baldur once again clenched his teeth, causing the harpy to straighten up, although Baldur still had the problem of the other harpy in pursuit. He couldn't hear the squawks of the other ones however, meaning they either gave up or went after Menel. He didn't have time to think on that now though, as the other harpy finally caught up, and was inching closer to Baldur's right side, ready to peck his eyes out. The creature got even closer now, so close that Baldur could smell the thing's breath. He had to pull back as it struck out towards his face, and when it tried again, Baldur made it fall back by quickly punching it between the eyes. When it recovered and tried catching up, Baldur threw his weight to the right hard, causing his harpy ride to veer off to the side so hard that when he stuck his foot out, it connected with the second bird and caused it to fall face first into the rocks, where it stayed and did not get up. Seeing that made him nervous, as landing time was coming soon. Maybe sooner then he thought, as the harpy seemed to be losing too much blood, and its flapping got weaker. Baldur let its neck go and tried holding onto the wound, but it was too late. The bird was falling now, flapping as much as it could manage, but the approach was still way too fast for Baldur's liking. All he could manage to do was brace for impact as the harpy fell hard into the reddish soil before they could reach the dunes Menel got to. He managed to echo a quick prayer to Kyne just before the impact, and before the General was knocked out. Menel had just started to think that the rolling, rolling, rolling down the slope of the dune had a curiously calming effect. He had started to form the thesis of a new illusion spell based on the sensation when he hit the bottom of the dune and came to a halt, staring up at the sun. This, too, was comforting in its own way, and anyway when he tried to move, his bruised and scratched-up body complained. So he decided to lay there a while and ponder the mortal condition. Vaguely, the Bosmer heard Baldur yelling, and tried to ignore it. Not like he could do anything about it anyway. What he could not ignore was the squawk of several harpies who had crested the dune and were looking down at him, a fat little worm that would make a nice meal for one or three of them. As two of the harpies began running towards him in their comically awkward gait, and the other took flight and started circling around to cut off his retreat, Menel leaped up. "Oh no you don't! I'm not falling for that trick again!" Shouting a battle cry, he lobbed a fireball at the two harpies and then turned his attention on the one in flight, and aimed several lightning bolts at it. The fire spell proved especially effective, catching the unlucky harpies' feathers like kindling. Squawking in pain and rolling wildly, they managed to put out the flames in the sand, but Menel hit them with another fireball just as they were recovering from the first. The harpy in flight took longer to manage, but eventually she came tumbling out of the air, too, feathers smoking, and only twitched a little on the sand. Satisfied, Menel started running as fast as he could waddle towards where he had heard Baldur's voice. Now his battle rage was up, and though it might take them a while to get there, you didn't want to be around a Bosmer when he got really mad. When Baldur finally arose from his slumber, the first thing that greeted his sight was the rosy and purple colors of the darkening sky. He laid in his fallen position for a while until his senses came to him, which unfortunately meant he could feel pain again. He screamed out from his body's agony, and when he could feel something stabbing into his arm and leg. He managed to lean up and see two pieces of harpy rib piercing him just above his knee on the side and into his upper bicep. He could move his leg, but his left arm was numb, and felt almost useless. The harpie itself had a broken wing as well as a ribcage from Baldur's weight, and of course an open neck wound. The thing's leg was snapped back as well, which gave Baldur an idea. He stood up slowly and painfully, acutely aware of all the cuts and scrapes, as well as the bone stuck in him as he limped over to the harpy body. His right pant leg was torn, completely revealing his lower right leg while the rest of the cloth hanged over his foot. He remembered dropping his axes back at the storm, and knew he'd need some form of weaponry, so he made do by stomping on the harpy leg and tearing the bottom half off. He then tore the bone off from the foot by stomping on it and ripping the bone out with his right hand, then gripped it between his fingers. He would use the talons as daggers if he encountered anyone or anything else. Satisfied that he was no longer defenseless, he made his way to the dunes where he last saw Menel. Slowly. As that was all he could manage with his injured leg. But at least he was alive, for now. Menel came charging up over a dune, his eyes wild and a fire spell primed in both hands, but there were no more harpies to char, just a wounded Baldur limping towards him. "General! I..." The Bosmer was about to say something, when the adrenaline eased, and pain, exhaustion and dehydration took its place. Crumpling to his knees, he looked wearily up at Baldur and said, "I don't know about you, but I've felt better." Baldur wanted to collapse as well, but his desire to get back with the others made him stay where he was. "I feel like I've just been shitted. But..we've got to keep moving. Especially now while it's cool." Baldur wearily turned around and took a knee on his good leg. "There's a pouch of water under my shield. Remove it and drink. I need you to be strong enough to heal my wounds and pull out these bones." At mention of pulling out bones, Menel's eyes fell to the harpy bones protruding from Baldur's leg and arm, and he made a face. "Ugh. I've seen some injuries in my time, but that... that takes the cake." Mmm, cake... Wearily Menel got to his feet and retrieved the skin from under the general's shield. He drank and then handed it back. "Wish we had something stiffer. You know I can't heal you before those things are out. All of them. If I cast a heal spell on you, the flesh will just close over those bones and they'll do even more damage coming out. In absence of drink, then..." The Bosmer cast a calm spell on Baldur, then unceremoniously yanked the harpy bone from his bicep. He had used this one-two combination to treat trauma before, but sometimes the patient took a swing at him just out of reflex. He waited, ready to duck, before he went on to remove the other bones. Baldur couldn't feel his left arm much, so he didn't react much from the initial yank. However when Menel yanked out the second one from his leg, his muscles just collapsed, causing him to keel over in the dirt. Baldur growled out at Menel and kicked at him from instinctive anger caused by the pain. "Sorry about that. I guess I should have mentioned the shield is magic resistant. Take that off before you start healing." "Oh...oh yes, you might have mentioned that." He went around and gingerly unloosed the shield's straps, tossing it aside. "So you withstood that without the calm spell? Nords, stoic, I see." Menel cast it again for good measure before yanking out the other harpy bone, and quickly following it up with a healing spell. "Healing spells aren't automatic, you know," he said, as if to an apprentice. "They work by accelerating the body's natural processes. If something is interfering with those, it won't take well. Something like exhaustion..." The Bosmer was getting around to suggesting they find a safe place- if there was such a thing in this gods-cursed desert- to bed down for the night. He had a sneaking suspicion the general would be bent on finding his wife. Baldur allowed himself to relax so that the calm spell could take as much of an effect on him as possible. It helped a great deal when it came to ignoring the pain, but his anxiousness to see Rebec and Suri again was too great. "We can rest once we've found the others, Menel. It'll only be harder in the morning with the sun up. You want to rest, then that would be the time to do it." He tried looking around to find the moons, but he couldn't see it from this angle. "Tell me, are the moons out tonight? And please say one of them is a crest." Grumbling, Menel stood and looked out over the horizon. Reluctantly he said, "I suppose they are." "Follow the line from the bottom of the crest to the top of the one with light on its right. That's North. Those things took us east. I can tell from where the sun was when we were taken out of the storm. We'll backtrack west until we reach where we were, then North to the Oasis where the others should be." Baldur learned that trick from his father a long time ago. It was something all legion commanders knew, as well as Stormcloak commanders and practically every sailor. Menel squinted. "The line from the bottom of the... Oh, blast it, let me help you up. You'd better do the navigating." Grumpily the Bosmer thought how it would soon be so hot you could cook a sausage just by setting it out on a stone. If you had a sausage, which he didn't. More was the pity. There was nothing for it but to trudge on. *** Even though she didn’t want to sleep, grief and the effects of her own wounds drew Rebec into a few hours of deep rest. When she awoke, there was soft rose light coming in from the courtyard outside her room. Rebec sat up on her hand and regarded Suri mournfully. She appeared so peaceful, lying there, her hair spread out on the pillow. Images flashed before Rebec’s eyes, of Vilnur with a bundle on his arm so tiny that he was afraid to hold her; then a little girl with braids following Rebec around and wanting to hold her axe and saying that she was going to be a sailor just like her. That fascination had ended early. Later on, she grew more serious, studious, always polite. Rebec thought it was down to the teasing Suri endured for being half Nord. It made her turn inward, to look to her intellect instead of social affirmation, and made her always check her behavior to do what was proper, so that no one could say she wasn’t a true redguard. Tears swam in Rebec’s eyes, and instinctively she reached for Suri’s hand. “It’s not fair, Su. You would have been thrilled to end up in a place like this. Said Ebonarm guided us to it. Only he’s deader than you are, that's plain. You were too young to end up like this.†She sniffed and brushed the free hand over her nose. “I’ve got to go now, Suri, but I’ll be back for you. Baldur needs me now. I couldn’t save you, but maybe I can still save him. Or else we’ll all go to Sovngarde today. If that's where you ended up.†Rebec forced herself to get up, releasing Suri’s hand. Then she stopped. Had she just seen the girl's fingers move? She watched, ready to chalk it up to her imagination or the tears swimming in her eyes, but then it happened again. Gasping in surprise, Rebec leaned her face down in front of Suri’s mouth. A moment later, she sat up, elated, and shouted out for the healers to come. There had been a breath; very faint, but it was there. The two healers came running in a moment later, still in their night robes. One of them began checking Suri’s neck for a pulse, while the other drew Rebec away and back to her chair. The one examining Suri looked up, and said reverently, “Lord Ebonarm has sent her back from the Far Shores. He was not yet ready to receive her service there.†Laughing, and crying, Rebec held on to the healer’s arm. “I knew it. I knew it couldn’t be true.†“She is still very ill,†the healer continued. “We must watch her carefully over the next days and practice all our arts. Masri will show you to a different room, Admiral. We need the space, and you must get your own rest. Such exertions of spirit are not good for the baby.†Absently Rebec asked, “What baby?†She met the healer's eyes as comprehension dawned in both of them. “You didn’t know? I’m sorry, it is a routine test for all female patients... But of course, it is still early days, I should have realized.†The healer fell silent then. The Nord woman's husband was missing, so what would normally be happy news would likely be a shock. Too much was happening at once, and Rebec’s head was spinning. She couldn't take it all in, and went along docile as a child as the healer led her off to a different room. Crossing the foyer above the entrance hall, she saw the great doors being opened. A cluster of desert warriors entered. The man she had seen that night, the Ansei, approached and talked to them. When he turned and noticed Rebec, he nodded greeting and came up the stairs to meet her. Briefly the healer told him about Suri’s recovery. Asafu’s thin eyebrows raised, though he did not seem all that surprised. “A welcome development. I’m afraid I don’t have any other good news, Admiral. The patrol we sent out last night found no trace of the rest of your party or of the harpies. We aren't giving up, however. Another patrol will leave momentarily.†“I’m going with them.†Rebec spoke automatically, and after she had said it, she paused. With what she had just learned, caution dictated that she should stay behind and let others do the searching. As soon that thought crossed her mind, however, she rejected it. If Baldur was out there, hurt and needing her help, then she would use her last breath to find him. They were in it together or not at all... all three of the Red-Snows, now. The Ansei and healer made some protests, but after five minutes of arguing, they gave up and went off to get her some provisions for the search. *** Baldur was trudging along through the desert with almost no energy left, having already drank all the water he had left. Of course, the Bosmer had done a good job helping with that. He was already to the point where he no longer sweated, but his wounds had started to feel somewhat better, at least, though he still couldn't move his left arm much. He needed to rest; they both did. But he couldn't, not until they found the others. He wasn't even looking in front of himself at this point. His face was covered by his hair due to his head being slouched over, as if he had to watch his feet in concentration as he walked. "Faster, Menel. We're almost there, I'm sure of it," he said monotonously, half hearing himself say it. Menel eventually had gotten so tired and dehydrated that he couldn't even mumble anymore. At Baldur's words he nodded slowly. There ought to be a spell he could cast- something for stamina- but in his mind the spells swam uselessly. Once he thought he saw smudges on the horizon. They looked like dancing sausages, and he laughed at that notion, which came out as a thin croak. The smudges grew nearer, more distinct. They weren't dancing sausages, but people. People meant real sausages! Menel straightened, pointing triumphantly. They were saved! A moment later, an arrow flew past his ear, shocking the Bosmer out of his relief. The "rescuers" were more hunters, and he and Baldur the prey. Baldur didn't notice the arrow, but he didn't hear Menel's footsteps anymore. Looking up from the ground to see where he was, he finally saw what his holdup was. Between his dirty and sweat filled hair, he could see what looked to be about fifteen armed Alik'r warriors coming straight for them over the dune, two of them on horseback. At the sight, Baldur's stomach dropped so hard he thought he'd see it on the ground if he looked. Turning around to walk away as if uninterested, Baldur said, "Run." While hobbling, Baldur could hear the oncoming footsteps from the approaching horsemen. When the galloping got too close, he ducked, but not quick enough. The Alik'r sword from the warrior hit him at full impact, but it missed his head and hit his shield, hitting him in the back and knocking him down face first. When the horse came back around, Baldur took his shield off and threw it at the warrior. While he was distracted, Baldur ran the harpie claw across the horse's side, causing it to rear up and knock the warrior off of its back. The horse ran off, bleeding and startled. But the Alik'r warrior was up on his feet, ready to take out the insolent Nord. Baldur hobbled over to him with the bloodied talons in hand, but it was clear to the warrior he was easy pickings. The general on approach even stumbled as he came near him. The warrior swung his sword around left and right in a skillful display, then charged his easy future kill. But to his dismay, when he struck at the man, he quickly side pivoted around the swing, and before he could recover, Baldur buried the talons in his throat, and ripped the soft flesh from it, leaving him gurgling his blood face first in the sand. "Oh no, no, no." Menel's dread rooted him in place. Would this desert never be done with them? For some reason he heard Veleda Fire-Hand's voice in his mind then, how she had forbidden him to die when searing cold took his fingers and will to live both, during their trial to join the Stormcloaks. If Fire-Hand were here, she would berate him mercilessly for giving up because of a bunch of smelly redguard. "You bastards!" The Bosmer tried to yell but his voice was too dry for sound to come out. So he let loose with the first spell that came to mind, hoping it wasn't Charm or something equally useless. It was a fury spell. Those worked best when the target didn't see where it came from and was left with only its allies to turn on. As it was, only two of the redguard stopped to fight each other. The others came on, charging Menel, now angrier than ever. Oh shit. Reaching quickly for something else in his repertoire, Menel cast a chain lightning spell that stopped both redguard in their tracks, paralyzed and shaking with electric shock. Meanwhile the Bosmer had fallen to one knee. He was spent. Out of mana, out of energy, out of time. Dimly he heard shouting and thought that must be the Nord. Menel had gotten used to the idea that he would die next to Nords, but he hadn't expected it to be in the middle of a desert. Turning his head, the Bosmer looked blearily as more warriors rushed them. This was really the end, then. He would die a warrior after all. Hope you're happy, Fire-Hand. You really got me into it now. Baldur couldn't believe his luck. He and Menel escaped the clutches of harpies, survived falling from the sky, being wounded, dehydrated and exhausted, only to be taken down by more Alik'r warriors later. Baldur remembered how lucky he felt with Rebec not to long ago, and how she told him he thought he was too good to be true. He always remembered stories about Sai taking something away if one was blessed with too much luck. Perhaps that's what the gods were doing now. And now he'd never be able to see his wife again, until she came to Sovngarde. Hopefully still his. And it would be long before he ever saw Boldir again, being a family man now. Although he was glad that the Nord would live a long happy life with a wife and child, unlike him. Angry and feeling betrayed by the ones he so revered, Baldur lost his senses at that moment, and ran straight at the oncoming soldiers with the bloodied talon in hand, no longer caring that he was outnumbered, now that death was assured. He'd have tears in his eyes if he wasn't too dehydrated to shed them. *** Rebec's patrol heard the sound of battle before they saw it. She recognized Baldur immediately as one of the two figures the attackers were bearing down on- his shield gave him away, even if his sweat-soaked hair looked as dark as hers. She spurred her horse and hung on as the little desert mount cleared a valley and came down on the next dune, scrambling a little to find its footing before dashing on with breath-taking speed. The Ebonarm devotees were nearly as fleet, and a good thing, since after seeing two of their men be hewn down by this new rider, the rest of the Alik'r turned to mass her, pulling her down from the horse. The admiral disappeared into their midst, but after a moment, one of the desert warriors went flying- on the end of Rebec's boot. She came upright and turned, Kyne's Talon already blooded, flashing in an arc towards the rest of her attackers. Most of them were able to jump back in time, but one caught a swipe across an arm and his chest that hurt him though not fatally. "Baldur! Baldur, are you alright?" she shouted. "A little help here, yes?!" He thought he was imagining her at first, but when the other Alik'r didn't attack him and instead faced their enemy, Baldur ran over, his adrenaline making him ignore his pained leg, and was quickly at her back. Baldur ran over and side stepped a weak sword thrust before sticking the talons into the Redguard's eyes that Rebec injured, then he picked up his sword, ready to defend her with his last breath. The Ebonarm men reached them by now and fended off the attackers by Menel, cutting them down before they overran him. The last of the attackers fought desperately to not fail again in their attempt to kill the Nords, but they had long lost their chance for that. Baldur and Rebec rotated clockwise back to back, cutting down anyone that got too close. It wasn't long before the ambush was thoroughly countered, and two of the last ambushers decided to try and route. As he was running away, Baldur borrowed Rebec's ebony axe and chucked it furiously at the back of the Alik'r's leg, causing him to collapse, injured but not dead. "Don't kill that one!" Baldur said as an Ebonarm follower charged after the pair on horseback. It wasn't long before he trotted past the downed man, and decapitated the other that almost got away. Exhausted physically as well as mentally from near death, Baldur finally collapsed to the ground, albeit with a slight smile on his face, daring to think it was finally over. Still in battle stance, Rebec swiveled back and forth, her axe held ready. There were no more attackers, however. Then she turned and saw Baldur's little smile. Laughing and crying again for the second time that morning, she fell to her knees in front of him and took his face in her hands, kissing him. Pulling back, she said, "You smell like harpy, my love." Then she laughed and kissed him again. He smelled worse than harpy, actually, but it was still the sweetest stench. Baldur started laughing between kisses and smiled mischievously, wondering if he should tell her how he had to bite one of the thing's neck. But he decided against it, figuring he'd have a good laugh about it later. Leaning forward, Baldur fought his weakened state to hold Rebec as tightly as he could, as if more harpies could come and take him away all over again. In her ear, he whispered and said, "Rebec...there's something I want to say to you so badly right now." She closed her eyes and held him tightly in return. Whatever happened next, they had a few more minutes together. "I'm a captive audience," she said at his ear, refusing to let him go even to see his face. Smiling, he simply said, "Water," laughing a little afterwards. That got her to let go and she stood, laughing, and retrieved her skin from the horse's saddle. Across the saddle she saw several redguard trying to get Menel up. He had fallen face-first and lay there like a lump, though he didn't appear dead. Returning, Rebec handed Baldur the water and helped hold the skin for him as he drank. He coughed a little from drinking too fast, but he recovered easily and drank his fill. Now that he had some liquids in him and he wasn't threatened with death, he noticed all the tears and breaks in Rebec's armor, but she seemed to be fine. He figured she found a healer. He put his arms around her again and rested his forehead against hers, taking in the blue of her eyes for a moment before speaking. "How are you? Where's Kematu and the other men? And Suri?" She was too emotional to speak at first, but finally said, "There's a monastery near here. Followers of Ebonarm. Suri... I think she'll live now, but it was a close thing. We had split up, Falgrum going with Kematu to the oasis, Suri and I with some of the others and the guides to look for you. Got attacked by these... things, I don't know. Come on. I can tell you the rest later, after we're safe and you've had some food and rest." She stood and reached for Baldur's arm to help him. Baldur was all too happy to accept her help, long abandoning being stoic around her. Seeing her come to his rescue reminded him on Boldir's words in Whiterun on how she was stronger than he thought, and how he underestimated her. He didn't think he did, but he realized all the worrying he did for her life in battle was doing just that. He always said she was his equal, but maybe before he didn't believe it as much as he should. It was very apparent now though, which brought him great comfort, although he'd always worry about her regardless. Hearing about Suri being close to death alarmed him, but she was apparently fine now. Everything was fine except the business with Kematu. But that could wait. Falgrum could handle things for a while. His whole attitude currently was docile like that and it hadn't changed by the time they got to the monastery, except when it was time to see Suri, and the healers insisted she still needed to be left alone. "What exactly happened anyway?" Rebec gently but firmly moved the healer aside, just so they could look in and see Suri. She was still far too pale, and hadn't woken up yet, but even from the doorway, Rebec could see her chest rising and falling in short, labored breaths. That was much better than nothing. "It was a manticore," she answered, whispering. "I guess that's what it called in Tamrielic. Half lion, half scorpion, with some snake in there somewhere- and huge buggers. There were sand wraiths, too, and when we were fighting one of those, that's when the manticore stung Suri. The poison almost did for her." Baldur remembered a sketch from the bestiary, and would have asked if she was joking if his niece wasn't so near death. He swallowed hard, thinking on what Vilnur and Raesa would say. "Damnit, that wouldn't have happened if I...nevermind. It couldn't be helped. I don't know what I'd do if she died. How do you tell someone their child..." Baldur stopped again for the second time, remembering the sore subject with Rebec. "I sure hope Falgrum can get the others at the oasis to wait. We're not leaving this place until I know Suri will recover for sure. But when we do leave, Kematu's rebel leader will pay dearly." Baldur walked off from Suri's room and took a seat at a table, trying to put these worries out of his mind, at least for today. He waited for Rebec to follow, and signaled for her to sit in his lap. Rebec followed, though after a hesitation during which she thought about her secret. It still didn't seem real, and maybe the healers didn't know what they were talking about anyway. It had happened so fast, before they'd even had their "honeymoon," though since they got started pretty early anyway... It was better to wait until she knew for sure to tell Baldur, Rebec decided as she walked over to him and took her place on his lap. "So what happened with the bird things? I take it this one didn't want to marry you." She grinned a little. He sighed from the comfort of her cushion on him, then laid against her shoulder and rested his eyes. He and Menel didn't sleep at all, and it was just starting to catch up to him finally. "Menel and I forced the things to land. Well, Menel landed. I crashed. I got juggled from one of them to a second one after I hit mine too hard and it fell to the ground, then I bit into the other one's neck and squeezed with my arms and legs and held on for dear life. The marriage ring was the inspiration. In short, it was a nightmare. One I'm sure I'll be revisiting in my sleep, unfortunately. Had a strange dream before all that too. A big hawk was carrying me, and a giant snake with a hole in its chest that looked like me shot venom at it and tried to eat me. At first I thought it Kyne and Shor, but I think the snake was my father trying to kill me, and you were the hawk. Basically my mind knowing you'd come for me." Rebec gave a strained smile, thinking how close she had come to not finding him in time. The attendants brought a bowl of soup, so she moved aside a little to let Baldur eat. Menel arrived just then, practically being carried by two young female assistants- no doubt playing up his "injuries" for the attention. He sat across from Baldur and when soup was brought, fell on it like it was the most succulent meat. The admiral glanced at him, then said to Baldur, "You bit that thing? Hope you don't get any strange diseases." Menel mumbled something which was muffled by soup, and at Rebec's question he repeated, "Panacea spell. Learned it in some moldy books we found in the Grey Quarter." He paused to shovel more soup into his mouth, then added, "Might not take care of anything too strange." "You need to get over to Suri's room when you're up to it," Rebec said. "She could use all the Panacea she can get. I don't think these healers have any magic." The elf nodded, then concentrated on his soup. Rebec was going to leave him to it, but spoke up again. "Thank you, Menel, for helping Baldur." "I washn't mush hep." "Still. I'm glad he wasn't all alone." She glanced at her husband and leaned in to kiss his forehead, even filthy as it still was. Baldur blushed a little from the attention and smiled with a mouthful of soup. Between eating, he said, "Menel's of course being modest. He killed some of the things while I was knocked out from the crash apparently, as I saw them heading to him before I did. And he healed my wounds a bit. I had harpy bone stuck in my arm and leg. I think the mer's earned a bit of Baldurbrau, don't you think? I could sure use some now. Menel, have one of my men bring my things. I assume you guys brought my weapons and pack?" "There's no Baldurbrau here, Baldur," Rebec said, breaking the news. "We had to use speed so I sent the bakyakas on to the oasis. I've got your weapons in my things, though. It's a miracle I found them. Stuff was scattered to Oblivion and back after that storm." She hailed the attendant and asked about mead, but got a frown in reply, and when the woman came back, she had a flask of sujamma. Rebec sniffed it, recognizing the bottle from the Dunmer shops. "Well, not close enough, but this is the closest we're going to get." She poured cups for Baldur, Menel and herself. Baldur finished his soup, then downed the sujamma, remember being given the drink once when walking through Windhelm. His mind was more at ease now, but it wouldn't be completely until Suri was awake. And there was one other matter as well, something he'd need to ask Menel, but now wasn't the time. He had a plan for dealing with Kematu's enemy, but it would be a lot easier to pull off if Menel could help him. "Where are they keeping the captive at? Tomorrow we need to see about interrogating him. We may be late to the meeting, but at least when we get there, we'll have more information going in." Rebec brought her cup to her lips but stopped herself, and lowered it back again. A twinge of guilt about Jala flitted through her mind, but she pushed it away. Leaving the liquid untouched, she stood up and pulled on Baldur's hand. "Army talk can wait til after you've had a bath and rest. Admiral's orders. You too, Menel. We need your sparklefingers rested and ready." Baldur didn't complain, he was too tired to anyway. Before he got up though, he took Rebec's cup and downed it, since she didn't drink it herself. He didn't think it odd; after all, it wasn't mead. He could use a bath, though he wished he could take a real bath and not a sand one. When he hobbled over, he said, "What are we going to do with Suri when she wakes up? Pretend like she didn't just almost get killed and not tell your brother?" "Let's take first things first," Rebec answered. "Vilnur knew the risks and so did Suri. You remember what she said, about being responsible for herself." There was a real bath in store for him, after all, since the monastery had a hamam. When they were done, one of the healers came and checked their wounds again and gave them potions. One of these was to help them sleep, so sleep they did. It was well past dawn the next day before either of them woke up. When they went to Suri's room, they found a welcome sight. She was still in bed and her breaths were shallow, but her eyes were open. The healers told Rebec and Baldur sternly that they were to only stay with her a few minutes. She sounded almost guilty as she said, her voice practically a whisper, "I'm sorry, Uncle, that I wasn't more help in finding you. I'm glad to see you're alright." "From the sound of things, your distraction probably saved your aunt's life, so you did plenty. And look where you ended up, with followers of Ebon Arm. So everything turned out just fine, Suri. It's a good thing Ra Gada aren't fragile." Baldur placed his fingers along side her cheeks to test her temperature. She was rather clammy, but she looked better than before. "You may need to stay here a while, but we'll remain here until you're fit to travel again." Suri gave a pained smile. "I talked with the Ansei a bit this morning. I think this is why I was supposed to accompany you. To come here." From her other side, Rebec said quietly, "You aren't leaving." The girl looked from her aunt back to Baldur. "I would only slow you down now, so I can't help you on your mission. After I recover... if... the Ansei said I could become an initiate." Rebec spoke up again. "Hold on now. You're going to stay here- forever?" Pausing, Suri replied carefully, "When you fight the Thalmor again, I will join you, if I can. By staying here, I will be a much greater aid to the cause then." Her eyes shifted to Baldur. "Please understand, Uncle. You and Aunt Rebec are the greatest warriors I know. You and Boldir and Jodun and the rest, you have shown me what it meant to be a warrior. But I have wanted to do something like this all my life." "Going your own way is something Rebec and I both understand. It's just...different now that we see what it's like on the other foot. It's the second time I'll be leaving a niece behind, but it's hard to deny this place is perfect for you. I'll leave something behind for you to remember us by before we leave, okay? I'll have the Ansei place it on your bed while you sleep." Baldur gave a forced smile, then walked from the room to leave Rebec with her niece for a while. Truth was he had wanted her to stay partly, for her safety. Or at least that's what he told himself he wanted, but now that it was actually happening, it was different. Rebec came out a few minutes later, fighting tears and doing a poor job of it. "Well doesn't that beat all. It seems wrong to leave her behind. She's not a kid anymore, I can't order her." It's obvious that she wished she could. Baldur played around with the idea of doing just that with Sentinel's backing, but quickly pushed the idea out of the way. If he himself could stay out of all this, he would. He tried hiding his sadness for Rebec's sake and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, you did the same thing with Vigge and you didn't leave him forever. We'll see her again. And when we do, she'll have a whole book of Ebon Arm quotes to tell us. We'll have to do this all over again ourselves some day, you know. Same conversations about safety and everything. Who knows, by the time we next see her, she'll probably be such a good swordsman, that she can split Thalmor nethers off without us seeing her draw a blade!" Rebec tried to smile but it didn't carry very well. "She said she thought her work with poisons might have helped her survive the attack. Said she experimented on herself with cardiac poisons before. I don't guess I'll be telling Vilnur and Raesa that. Anyway, Menel came by this morning. Argued with the healers, belly butted one of them out of his way so he could get in to spell Suri. Sounds like he's feeling better. If you're feeling up to it, I guess we can head out today. I want to get to that oasis. Falgrum's surrounded by worse snakes than those manticores or the one in your dream." "Alright, we can do that. I'll have one of my men leave Suri one of our extra Nordic Carved swords. That should make her happy, I think. We'll have to use Kematu to translate what that prisoner says." Baldur wished they could stay longer, but if they did, Kematu may assume they were dead. Baldur had to lose the armor, as it was too torn and damaged, so the Ansei gave him a simple white robe with a white kufiya and a gold colored agal. The Necro Nords that survived the attack with Rebec were about to set off when one of the Ansei came over with what Baldur thought was yet another desert monster trying to eat them. http://tamriel-rebui...ardedit_104.jpg "What the hell is that, a giant argonian?" Baldur said, one hand on an axe. "This is a pack lizard." said the Ansei who brought it over. "A gift. From the healers." "A gift for what?" asked Baldur. Asafu rested one hand on his sword hilt, and with the other gestured up towards Suri's room. "You have brought us an initiate, one touched by Lord Ebon Arm. The mantakya-kaur is rarely seen. We fear them, but that is because they are the consummate warriors. Here is one who tasted their poison and lived. By her own words she sought the lord's guidance in coming here. This visitation has been a great blessing to us all. We are often forgotten out here, few seek us out any longer, and it can be easy to despair that what we do has no meaning. You all have helped remind us of our purpose." He paused, then added, "And we were not untouched by the yellow elves whose steps fouled our deserts. They do not deal in just conquest, but in trickery and deceit and foul magics. If your mission is to oppose them, then I would help you in your task." Baldur nodded in recognition of what he said, then with fixated wide eyes approached the animal slowly. It regularly flickered its tongue, tasting their scents in the air, as if judging them based on that alone. The Ansei watched the Nord amusingly, and handed him the reins he used to guide the animal to them. Baldur slowly ran his hand alongside the apparently friendly and domesticated monster lizard, and the lizard blinked, seemingly puzzled by this behavior, and once again flickered its tongue, which got a taste of Baldur's cheek. Whether it actually meant to or not wasn't clear, though in Baldur's poetic mind, it did. At that moment, the Nord was instantly hooked. Asafu chuckled to himself, then said, "You'll want to give it a mark so others know it is owned. We have brands that w-" "No brands!" Baldur yelled. "Sorry, I've had my own experience with that. You, Arnbjorn. Bring me my pack," Baldur said to a Necro Nord. The soldier brought his things over along with his axes, then Baldur took out his face paint container, then carefully applied the swirl mark he wore himself onto the beast's cheek, and trailing off to its neck with another secondary swirl. "Rebec, come over here!" Rebec could respect what the priest had said, even if half of it sounded like mumbo jumbo, but she wasn't happy at all about having an unpredictable desert beast in their camp. The bakyakas were bad enough. Reluctantly she approached, whispering to Baldur, "We got to take it with us or offend the guy, but we're selling this thing once we get to the oasis." "What? No way!" Baldur looked around and smiled at the Ansei, and then whispered to Rebec, saying, "This thing is amazing, Rebec! He seems well mannered enough, look how he took to us. I'm naming him Fafnir," said Baldur. "Faf is right. Faffing around with shady creatures is apparently your favorite pasttime." Behind them the Ansei asked, "Is there a problem?" Rebec turned and lifted a hand. "No, no. It's a lovely... lizard. Thank you, Ansei. We'll gather our things and be on our way while we still have daylight." Menel appeared then, looking rosy-cheeked but in bad temper. Being bathed by redguard women had its charms, and going out into the desert again did not. He brightened when he saw Rebec retrieve something from the packs. "My staff! Oh, how I have missed you darling." He kissed the scruffy, rune-engraved piece of wood. "Have I told you about how I took this off a fryse hag?" "Half a dozen times by my count," Rebec replied. "Load your pack on the lizard and let's get a move on." "Heh, you're one to talk, troll wrangler. Vigge told me all about that. Hand it here, Menel. I could use something to lay my back on while I ride on Fafnir," Baldur said while petting their new companion. "Come on, Rebec. There's plenty of room on this big boy." "Ohhh no. I'll take one of those desert ponies or nothing." Baldur sighed, then crossed his arms. "Rebec, I let you drag me through the sea on a piece of wood that made me sick for the majority of the trip. You can sit on a lizard. This is our honeymoon, and yet the only thing we've managed to do is get poked and prodded, sliced and diced, chewed and finally spit out by this damn desert. Relax and just go with it; it'll be fun!" "Guilt, now, is that it?" Rebec regarded him skeptically, though she had a little smile she was trying to hide. "Fine. But if that thing pitches us off into a ravine, I'm cursing you out but good on the way down." Baldur noticed the smile regardless, then ceased his pouting. Now looking as giddy as a child, he turned back and regarded Fafnir, wondering how he'd get on. Happy that the Nords seemed to like their gift, the Ansei while the two were talking already came over with a leather saddle like seat with a back rest, which they attached onto Fafnir's back. After it was secure, the one that brought it over said, "Rub your hand over his nose and say 'TANG!' Then turn around. It means help." Baldur looked puzzled, but did as he was told. When he rubbed the nose and repeated the word, Fafnir dipped his head and lifted Baldur up between his legs, causing him to roll over its head and land perfectly in place against the seat. "Well, that's certainly new. Your turn Rebec. Like I said, fun, hehe." Rebec's eyes widened at this method of mounting. Grumbling all the while, she hesitantly followed suit, and was pitched straight into Baldur's lap, laughing in spite of herself. Baldur caught her with his hands around her waist, and immediately grinned from his cozy spot between the seat and her. The Ansei threw Rebec the reins, then Baldur thanked them again for the gift. Baldur slapped the side of the lizard to get him going in the direction of the oasis, with the Ra Gada guides in the front, and the Necro Nords trailing behind. Nuzzling her, he said, "See? More cozy then being on horseback right? You can fall asleep up here. Which I definitely plan on doing." Rebec grumbled something non-committal and kept casting nervous glances at the ground, as if expecting to be pitched off or rolled on at any moment. The surviving Nords and redguard guides were joined by a few of the Ebonarm initiates, who were being sent to help guard them and to observe the meeting. As the caravan moved out into the desert, Rebec looked back towards the monastery, wistful about leaving her niece behind. Baldur was hoping this would cheer Rebec up about Suri, but he knew it wasn't to be. He just avoided death, so he wanted to enjoy things from then on before it was time to deal with more Ra Gada, but with Suri being gone, it was hard to, her presence being hard not to notice missing. Sighing from being depressed about Suri and a little disappointed Rebec didn't enjoy Fafnir as much as he did, he sat back in the seat and closed his eyes to try and sleep. At Baldur's sigh, Rebec looked back and saw him settled into the saddle with his eyes closed. She studied his face, worried that his injuries might have taken more out of him than she had thought, and that they were pushing things too much. But on the other hand, she wanted nothing more than to be out of this desert and headed back home, and knew he felt the same. Settling down into the saddle, she put her head on his shoulder and closed her own eyes. At first she felt restless, and kept opening her eyes to scan the horizon. The lizard's swaying gait was calming, however, like a cradle, and so was the sensation of having Baldur near. Soon she fell into a light, alert doze, the way she slept while at sea. At one point, one of the Ebonarm initiates called up to her, and pointed towards something on the saddle, a carved button. Cautiously Rebec pushed it, and a fabric canopy came out of the saddle and settled over them, shading out the brutal sun. Now this, this she could get used to. Baldur stirred a little, enough to notice that the heat was no longer beating down on him as intensely before. Opening an eye more fully now, Baldur smirked and said, "No way, this is great! Wish we had this on our way into Alik'r. This is how diplomats should travel." The initiate smirked after hearing that, knowing this was probably all more than either of them expected. What Asafu had said was true, but what he didn't say was the healers insisted the Nord woman travel comfortably due to her pregnancy. They also insisted they not tell the husband, believing that to be a woman's prerogative. Baldur was put in a better mood from the shade, although he felt a little bad about his men, but that didn't last long. Whispering, he said, "I'm sorry about Suri. If you want, we can always come back after this business in the oasis is done. We don't have to go off to the Crowns immediately after, and I was thinking we'd take a break anyway first." "Well, maybe. She might take that as us checking up on her, though. Suri is a strong girl. What most worries me is that I'll have to tell her parents how ill she was- still is, really. I can't imagine how hard that would be, to let a child go like that, knowing they're off in the world somewhere." Rebec reflexively put an arm over her stomach, though she was trying not think about the baby. Looking to cheer them both up, she said, "Now all we need is someone to come up here and fan us. Maybe Menel can do it." Baldur smiled and placed an arm around her again, then said, "I bet if we offered him some sausages, he would. Only, if things get any more luxurious, we'll have to start drinking milk. And so what if we're checking on her? We're her family. She'll have years to be on her own now, so she'll get over it. Who knows, maybe she'll want us to. Tell you what, we'll take that break anyway, but we'll visit her after we're done, to give her some time on her own. That way we can at least see if she got better for her parents." "I guess we can do that. I'm not looking forward to coming back to this desert, but with the lizard..." Obviously Rebec had warmed up to the idea of having Fafnir along, after all. Baldur chuckled at that, and said, "So you do like him?" "He's useful. If a strange beast can make himself useful, I've got nothing against it, I suppose. Same for elves." As if on cue, Menel appeared by the side of their mount, looking up longingly at the shaded dais. Noticing him, Rebec grinned and said, "Come on then, wizard. But you got to get on him the same way we did." The negotiation between the lizard and its plump new passenger was delicate, but the up-ending onto its back was anything but. Menel crashed into Rebec, who crashed into Baldur, and they were all there in a heap until they managed to untangle themselves. It then took a little while for them to get comfortable again, and Rebec had a fit when Menel started stripping down to bare feet. Still, smelly feet were far from the worst they had endured in the Alik'r, and the only trial they suffered on their first travel day out of the monastery. In the desert, "uneventful" was a very good thing.

Lorgar Grim-Maw/Saladin Fury-Eye Fort Dunstad, Mid-day Knowing the terrible path of my destiny that was laid before me, and with absolute clarity of mind, I walked that path paved with the corpses of my enemies and friends alike with relis- "Colonel, sir." Lorgar dropped his ink pen in annoyance, as he turned his head. A Blood Wolf Commando, in full uniform was waiting by the door into his office. He was dressed in the standard dark leather longcoat of first company, and was wearing a silk scarf that covered his lower face. Beside his Bloodwolf service badge, was his rank insignia, which showed him to be a staff sergeant. Lorgar raised his eyebrow under the painted balaclava he wore. "Yes sergeant?" The non-commissioned officer straightened his back out, and gave him a crisp saluted, "Miss Homunal wishes to speak to you." With a sigh, Lorgar dropped the book he was writing in, and marked his last page, with "Sundas, 12th, Hearthfire." He gently closed the book, and said to the commando, "Tell her I’ll be with her in a moment." Nodding, the soldier turned around, and headed to the Thalmor agent's office. Lorgar himself got out of his chair, and followed out of the doorway moments later. He passed by the mess hall, and the barracks. Soldiers in his way made sure to remove themselves, and salute as he walked passed. He reached into his coat pocket, taking out a cigarette. He took out a match, and lit it gently. Putting it in his mouth, he opened the door leading to Miss Homunal’s office. As the Bloodwolves official dominion handler, she had final say in matters, and was usually very busy with paperwork. As Lorgar entered her office, he glanced at her. Lorgar still wondered in amazement the striking similarities she had to him in terms of appearance, with her pale white hair, along with her deep blue eyes. She was naturally short, but her occupation as an assassin should have afforded her a more built body. To Lorgar’s knowledge, her lack of muscle was due to her having very powerful alternation magic done to her, to make herself more appealing to Dales Moitre during her failed assassination operation. Her breasts were noticeably small, but firm, and her skin was eerily pale. She was twenty eight, but she looked no more than fourteen or fifteen. Lorgar even heard she had worn Akavari styled Kimonos to seem more exotic to her target, Dales certainly has…very strange tastes in women… Clearing his throat, he said, “You requested my presence, ma’am.†Not bothering to avert her eyes from the document she was reading, she said in her usual emotionless tone, “The Dominion Intelligence report came in.†She gently threw Lorgar a replica of the file she was reading. Lorgar caught it with his right hand, before scanning the pages for information. Most of it was useless reports, but one thing caught his eye. He snorted, “So, were providing funding for Khajiit terrorist cells, are we?†Homunal chuckled dryly, “Most likely for quite some time now. They just haven’t bothered telling us grunts until recently.†Lorgar continued reading; his facial expression was invisible underneath the balaclava. “Very effective terror tactics, torching the mansions, slaughtering the men, raping the women. Sure to send chills up the spines of the imperial nobility. Incredibly sloppy though, could have simply cut their throats out under the cover of shadow, and be away much quicker.†“Less dramatic. Less effective.†“True, I suppose.†Continuing, Lorgar kept reading. Nothing else was really interesting though. Gently putting it back on Homunal’s desk, Lorgar asked the dominion agent, “Was the… interrogation successful?†Homunal’s blue eyes filled with annoyance, and she said in a bitter tone, “As masterful as Commander Fair-face is in her…art, no. The prisoner’s refusing to break. I highly doubt she appreciates us after we exterminated her resistance cell.†Saladin’s voice was tinged with curiosity in response, “What did she exactly endure?†Homunal eyebrows raised, and she said in a deadpan tone, “You want to know the grisly details?†Saladin nodded. Homunal stretched her small arms, before saying, “Four advanced physical sessions, along with four advanced physiological.†Saladin’s head tilted, and the room filled with brief silence. A minute later, Saladin broke it, before turning around, “How unfortunate. She is no doubt a waste of space, since if she’s remained unbroken through that, I doubt we’ll crack her. I’ll arrange to terminate her immediately.†Homunal raised her hand, stopping him from leaving the room. “Hold it, that can wait. If you don’t know, I summoned you for a reason.†She put her tiny hands onto her desk, and said rather professionally, “Southeast of here is a small town, Alderwood. The local garrison if having extreme difficulties with a…Bosmer rebel cell.†“So? Let the army boys handle it. I doubt this op is vital enough to allocate Bloodwolf resources and personnel." “Problem is, that “cell†I mentioned is composed of single resistance fighter.†Lorgar’s turned around in suprise and interest, “A lone wolf operative?†“Yes. Hit and run attacks from the forest. All kills have been from the bow. So far thirty soldiers have been killed. I want you to handle it personally; I owe the garrison commander a favor.†Saladin let out a growl, “Fine, I’ll handle it then.†“Right away?†"Fine.â€

Stalks-Deep-Waters Windhelm Noon The trip to Windhelm may have been more fruitful than he had hoped. After leaving Whiterun due to all of the jobs with good pay was handed to the Companions, he continued eastward in hope of more jobs. On the border to Eastmarch he was attacked by three bandits on the road, a small band in bad shape and one of them had been recently injured in the left arm. They were probably fleeing from something, whether it was from the Companions in Whiterun to Eastmarch or from the Stormcloaks in Eastmarch to Whiterun, he did not care. The man that acted as their leader was bald and a great red haired mustache that reached below the chin, but the most distinct feature was that half the nose was missing and that injury looked really old. He looted the corpses and cut off the head of the mustached leader and put in the sack he used for that purpose when bounty hunting, hoping the man might have a bounty in Eastmarch. It was a slim chance but he was running low on gold. When he arrived at the gates of Windhelm he was greeted by the usual warm hospitality guards used to give him, suspicious glances and one or two muttering the slur lizard. He didn't pay them much attention and walked through the city to the palace. When he walked into the palace he got more suspicious glances that bordered more to starring. The only man that didn't look like a guard in the large hall was a nord sitting and eating at the long table at the far end near the throne. This nord also had a big mustache which almost got Stalks to think he had just killed that man's brother or cousin. He walked up to the man while trying to ignore the guards. "Are you the steward?" He asked the nord. The nord looked up from his plate of lamb he was enjoying to the unusual guest before him with curious, and somewhat wary eyes. He took off hat lined with thick white fur, then said, "Aye, I'm Jorlief, steward to High King Ulfric Stormcloak. What can I do for you? If this is about a house, I'm sorry, but I can't help you." "No I'm wondering if you got a bounty on a bald man with a large red haired mustache, kinda like yours, and have half the nose missing?" Jorleif paused for a moment, reflecting on what he could remember, but not being able to recall exactly. Sighing as he reached behind his back, he pulled out a scroll roll of papers and sifted through a list of unclaimed bounties. "Lets see...There's... Jorund Draugr-Face? Hmm, yea he seems to match the description. I suppose the nose thing explains the name. That's a really old bounty, for twenty five gold. For...horse thieving, and....." Jorlief pulled away from the paper in disgust and looked to the Argonian and said, "Bestiality. Ulundil will be happy, I'm sure. You have proof of the deed?" He reached for the sack hanging by the belt at his side, thankful for the oils that covered the inside and kept the stench and rot contained. He pulled out the head and held it up rather close to the human so he could get a good look. "Here he is." Jorleif quickly slid his food aside, then examined the head. The smell was palpable, but he was used to merc types shoving heads in his face. He was careful to examine the wound on the nose, making sure it wasn't fresh, and that the Argonian didn't just cut off some guy's nose with a mustache. It checked out. "Here, gold well earned. Windhelm thanks you, Argonian. You can take that with you. Was there anything else?" "You sure you don't want the head? The skull could make a fine totem." He said a little jokingly as he put the head back in the sack before receiving the gold. "Well, you got any more bounties? Something actually worth hunting down." "Always. The Stormcloaks are better patrolling the lands now, especially Eastmarch now that it's the capital, but bandits will always rear their ugly heads. Good practice for the boys, eh?" Jorleif said to a palace royal guard, which were now the Necro Nords. The man had his bear helmet on and was leaning on the back wall with a claymore in his hands, resting it's point on the floor. He said, "Aye, when they stick around to fight, anyway. Even the green recruits are proving too much for them lately. There's that one band though, the ones attacking caravans. They're proving to be a big nuisance. They hit and run, never stick around for too long, and they know better than to challenge us. Makes it hard to get at them." Jorleif looked puzzled at the moment, as he couldn't recall such a bounty. Looking through the stacks, though, he found what the Necro Nord was talking about pretty quickly. "Ah, I see. Here, think you can handle this bounty?" It read: "By order of High King Ulfric Stormcloak To all able bodied men and women of Windhelm. There have been bandits harassing caravans at a fever pitch, despite heightened troop numbers around. They attack quickly, and then run off, never sticking around for long. However, we do know that the bandit leader's name is Lilith R'is, a female Dunmer warrior that once resided in the Grey Quarter. She has long black hair, shaven on one side, and a scar over her nose. She was noted for being rather unstable. She fights with an ebony blade, magic, and wears what appears to be actual dragonscale armor. Very illusive, unpredictable. Her men look like typical common rabble, but they specifically target argonian caravans that go to and from Riften. Her hideout is unknown, but she was last reported being seen near Ironbind barrow and Silverdrift lair, past Nightgate Inn. A reward will be offered to anyone who kills their leader and brings her head. Jorleif, Windhelm Steward." After reading the the note he put it down in one of the many pockets at the belt. "Dragonscales? If the few stories I've heard about dragons are true, then that armor must be quite the patchwork. And how much is the bounty on?" "It's on the back of the note. Two hundred gold coins. As for the armor...that's what the reports say...but I've never even seen dragonscale armor before, so I wouldn't know how accurate that claim is. Should fetch a pretty Septim if it's real, though, eh?" "Well if they're not, at least the ebony will be nice. Anyway, know where the general store is in this city? Mr Draugr here had some things I want to sell off." He patted the bag with the head. "You'll want to go into the Gray-Quarter for that. Place called Sadri's Used Wares to your left outside the palace. If you see a man there shouting at any Dunmer, do yourself a favor and ignore him. I won't bad mouth him because he's Galmar Stonefist's brother, but he's not worth you wasting your time on him, believe me. He usually sticks to the Cornerclub, though." "They rarely are." And with that he walked down the hall and out of the palace. He took the left gate out of the courtyard and it wasn't long till the streets turned dirty and and the houses was in quite bad shape compared to the rest of the city. Most of the people he passed by was dunmer and most of them gave him not only suspicious glances but some bordered to spiteful stares. It made the reception he got on the way to the palace feel like a heartwarming welcome in comparison. Not before long he saw another nord wearing scaled armor with the head of a goat strapped to the shoulder pad. This man was bald but had an enormous grey beard. "Hello." He said to the man as he was the only one nearby who appeared at least not hostile to the argonian. "You one of those 'Skyrim for the nords' type?" The question caught Stalks off guard and left him silent for a few second before he thought of a response. "Yes, outsiders like me don't belong here." He said with a sarcastic tone. "That's just what Ulfric wants you to think. If that's what you really believe, then you're a fool. Never had much patience for fools, myself." The nord said, apparently not noticing the sarcasm and then he walked past Stalks with a grumpy "Hmph". Stalks stood there and watched the nord walk away for a few seconds, wondering what had just happened. Probably have bugs in his ears or something. He thought and dismissed it all as some crazy nonsense and walked on till he saw torn and dirty red banners, with gold triangles pointing down from the top of the banner and a gold dot inside each triangle, hanging from the facade on a building that lied in the corner of the street. As he walked past what he assumed was the Cornerclub he saw a nord commoner in brown and beige clothes standing with a bottle of mead in one hand and waving the other as threateningly as he could at some dunmer woman while yelling what he assumed were racist slurs, but the man sounded so drunk it was almost impossible to make out what he was actually saying. When the nord noticed Stalks he yelled "Slyzart!" and then some more gibberish at him before going back to harassing some dark elf woman. The general store Sadri's Used Wares wasn't too far from the Cornerclub. Stalks opened the door and hoped that whatever dark elf that owned this shop would be nicer than those out on the streets. As Stalks opened the door, Revyn the shop owner could hear the intoxicated nord's drunken harassment pour in. "Hmph. Damn Nords. Even with my people's contribution to the army, they still allow that loudmouth to harass anyone he wants! That Red-Snow is all talk. He wants to honor the mer that died in his command? Well start here! Um, sorry. Uh, what can I get for you? All goods here are legitimate, I promise you." "I'm looking to sell mostly." Stalks walked up to the counter and took off the backpack, which was little more than a roll of leather tied up at both ends, untied the ends and rolled it up. On the leather lied two iron axes and a steel mace, a small necklace with a small iron medallion shaped like a horse head, an iron dagger, a fur hat and two pairs of a bit dirty but still functional fur boots. "What will you give me for all of this?" "Ah, more iron junk. You adventurers always shovel that stuff in. The iron goods and the fur boots will ring in fifteen gold." The Dunmer picked up the necklace now, then inspected it, holding it up towards a torch on the wall behind him, then placing it down back on the counter before inspecting the steel mace and it's edges. The steel mace I'll give you twenty five gold for, and the iron medallion's really only as good as the amount of metal used to make it, which isn't much. You may as well keep it. But...If you do me a favor, I'll throw in an extra ten gold coins." "You keep the medallion. And what favor are we talking about?" The Dunmer smirked, then ducked under the counter for a while, shifting and pushing past goods he kept hidden for being the most expensive. When he came back up, he produced an ordinary looking mead bottle with no label on it. "This is a typical Nord mead, mixed with a little Ash Creep Cluster and Bonemeal. We Dunmer back on the mainland used to play a prank when another mer was courting a woman we had eyes on as well. Sneak a little bit of this in, and it'll drain a man's energy enough so that they can't get an erection for an entire day! Sneak more in, and it relaxes the bowels so much that they defecate themselves. Sneak even more in....and well, anything more potent than that and you could apply it to blades as a poison to sap stamina, but I just put in enough for the bowel movements. Give this to that drunken asshole outside, and we can see just how much like an asshole he really is!" "Sounds simple enough. If you give me my forty Septims and take all this. I'll grab the bottle and trick the drunkard." The Dunmer smirked, and laughed with glee, then said, "Good! You're an adventurer, so your face isn't known around here. You can do it and no one will be able to say who did it. Not that those Nords could tell the difference. They probably say we all look the same. Within our own races, that is. Come back when it's done. I'll have the extra gold waiting for you. Here's the forty septims for the goods you gave me." "Good." He put the gold in the pouch, moved all the stuff from the leather roll onto the counter before wrapping it up and putting it back over the shoulder. Grabbing the bottle of mead he left the store and walked back onto the street. The man was still rambling, only interrupted his yelling when the took a swig of mead. Holding the bottle like he himself was about to drink from it, Stalks walked up to the man. "Five Septims you can't drink this whole bottle." he said calmly. "Oh yelny? Feyll kjive nee aht!" The drunk said and grabbed the bottle and started gulping it down rather fast without taking much of a breath. Very soon the bottle was empty and the drunk smashed the bottle into wall. "Shive Scheplims." The drunk sounded quite triumphant. Stalks didn't reply and instead put his hand on the nord's chest and pushed. And he didn't put much force into the push but it was still enough to cause the man to lose what little balance he had and fall back on his butt into the dirt. The drunk rambled some more and tried in vain to get up. He eventually managed to get on all four and by then the poison had done it's work as the dark brown spot on the pants testified. Chuckling, Stalks walked back to the general store before the smell got too intense. As he opened the door the curses, or what he assumed were curses, followed him into the store till he closed the door and the drunk's yelling got so muffled it was almost silent. The Dunmer didn't need any words from the Argonian to know that the deed was done, he could already hear it when he came in. "Well done! Here, take it. Now I'm gone, I've got to see this!" Revyn took off like an excited boy and opened the door and ran into the cold of the bleak alleyway. In the distance, Stalks could make him out saying, "Hey! Everyone come look, Rolff shat himself!" Putting the additional gold the dunmer almost threw at him into the pouch, Stalks looked around around if he could find something the store owner wouldn't miss much. Consumables were his choice of things to steal and of things the owner already had more than a few of. He grabbed one nirnroot, an apple, a couple of Septims that lied under the counter in some half forgotten corner, some Imp Stools and Swamp Fungal Pods. Then there wasn't much to it that he felt confident enough to get away with and walked out and closed the door behind him. In the distance he could see a dunmer crowd gathering around what must have been the drunkard Rolff. Though he couldn't see due to all the dunmer standing around laughing. Giving the entire event one more chuckle he walked in the opposite direction and when he was far away enough, he hauled the apple out and started eating.

Rebec, Baldur (Celan, Colonelkillabee) Moving into the Alik'r Desert Morning Baldur was very reluctant to lose his armor, but eventually the Ra Gada, and Rebec, convinced him that it was better for comfort if he dressed in their way. He picked his Ancient Nordic refurbished armor especially for the trip, but when the Ra Gada described the feeling of sandstorms scratching at the skin, and the number it could put on someone with no facial protection, or in Baldur's case, no nether regions protection, he was much more willing to accept their fashion tips. The governor already had their equipment lined out for them, including Rebec, and the Necro Nords. Baldur was given a noble's desert warrior outfit fortified with leather and steel, and a leather strap over his chest and back with a medallion depicting the Stormcloak bear on it in steel. Obviously Jeleen had expected all of this some time ago. Baldur was given a dark tan general's cape to go with it as well, with the Stormcloak bear symbol on it in white, which was covered by his shield with their family crest as usual. The Necro Nords were similarly outfitted, minus a cape. They took with them four Bakyakas, shaggy looking creatures with long curved necks that had thick fur almost like a mane on their front part of their bodies, mainly the neck and front legs on the upper sections. Baldur at first wondered how something with such thick fur lived in the desert, but when they told him the two huge humps in it's back stored water...he got the picture. The creatures looked comical, like someone mated a cow from Skyrim with some a horse. It's front furred side was also blessed with strong thick legs for climbing up sandy dunes, and the fur only served to keep the creature even better protected from the sand of the Alik'r. It's forehead also had a thick set of fur on it, that connected to the fur on the back of it's head as well. The creatures carried the water, food and other things that the men didn't carry. Baldur and Rebec's things were on the horses that they were given to travel on. As they were the High Admiral and General, it was good for appearances to see them traveling on horseback like nobles. Suri was also traveling on horseback as well. They traveled light, taking what they needed only, so as not to overburden the beasts. The majority of their stores were water, though the Alik'r guides who met them in Sentinel said they should make comfortable time to Zelik'ma, the oasis which frequently served as a gathering place for tribal leaders or inter-tribal weddings. While Baldur and the Necro Nords prepared for their journey, she and Suri had spent several days drilling on horseback, Rebec using her rope and crossbow and Suri a Ra Gada shortbow. After trying on the armor that had been laid out for them, Rebec decided that the steel was hindrance she didn't need. Jeleen came through with suits of finely made lamellar, the deep red scales woven together with turquoise rope and decorated with beads. The women wore this with loose-fitting cloth pants and wrapped themselves in cloak and cowl that would serve to protect both from sand and the cold of desert nights. Riding alongside Baldur, Rebec scanned the horizon. It was just after dawn and they had been riding for several hours, trying to get some distance before the sun rose high. The sands were streaked in purple and rose and blue, almost like an ocean, but there was already a hint of the heat to come, more of a smell than sensation. If they had been able to smell anything but beast. "So who runs out on first, leaving us to die- the bakyakas or their masters?" she joked, keeping her voice low. The guides kept to themselves, talking in a dialect that not even Suri understood, and Rebec had immediately distrusted them. Considering the past history the two had, such as with Samuel, Baldur learned to trust Rebec's instincts when she didn't trust someone. Granted, that seemed to be most strangers, but that was likely for the best; especially in foreign lands. "Those stubborn beasts? I bet if either of them do, it's the guides over those...things. I tried to pull one earlier to pack it, and the damn thing spat in my face..." "Maybe that was their way of saying hello." Rebec took out her canteen and sipped at it. Even in the relative cool of the morning, the dryness of the desert sucked the moisture out of eyes and mouths. It would be worse the further they got from the ocean's humidity. "Keep your eyes open. There are beasts with worse greetings than that." They had made the mistake of looking through a desert bestiary in Jeleen's library. The prince had said that such horrors were only in the deep desert and kept away from the well-traveled routes, but that was small comfort. Baldur's eyes were trained on the sky, as he saw his worst nightmare come to life when he went through the book. And he saw some pretty horrifying things in his life. Something that he never thought could exist, but there it was, staring him in the face, with it's wrinkly exposed breasts showing. It was worse than a hagraven. It was a hagraven with wings. A woman/vulture. "I've got my eyes open, alright. I thought harpies were supposed to be sexy. Why would Kyne create such freaks? Ugh, what if those are Kyne's daughters?" "I highly doubt that Kyne had anything to do with that. More like some daedric prince's party trick." Her own nightmare had been a ghostly white creature with bulging black eyes, like a cicada except with razors for claws. The book speculated it was a kind of dreugh, twisted and re-shaped by the desert. And then there were the sand wraiths. As the sun drew higher above them in the sky, it was easy to believe those were all around them. As close as they were to the coast, the wind picked up colored sand and swirled it into writhing, lifelike forms. Any chatter in the group died down as the Nords began to suffer in what was for most of them their first exposure to real heat in all their lives. At midday the guides called a halt in the shade of some red bluffs, and Rebec had to go around cautioning them to drink slowly and eat little. Even Suri was quiet. They couldn't afford to nap all day, so struck out again in the late afternoon and didn't stop until they reached a natural spring in some cliffs, where they set up their night camp with just a little light left in the evening sky. The guides unloaded and watered the animals first, then set about making a campfire. The little cluster of cliffs was a regular stop for travelers, with fire rings already in place, and the spring controlled by a spigot in a rock. The metal handle was shaped like a man's face, or like a grotesque mask. Water collected in a tile basin cut into the rock. Baldur and the rest of the men were already making a rush for the water in the spring. The men were pushing and shoving at each other, and started to bicker over who got to drink their fill first. Just when it looked like there would be a fight, Falgrum came over to the two men blocking the spring and ran their heads together. The commander then had the soldiers line up, and the two subdued men drank last. "Guess none of them were with the Legion in Hammerfell." Baldur said while observing them acting like children. He'd have scolded them before, but the day in the desert was too damn hot, and although it was night now, the heat from before sapped any desire to order the men around. At least for now until he rested. Vigge's words were echoing through his head in full clearly audible verbatim. "Hot as the deadlands". Check. "Sand in your boots". Check. And yet, even being just barely in the desert, the place already had an effect on Baldur. The sands were so beautiful to observe, when you could take the time to do so, and the blazing sun wasn't blinding you. In the distance, where the wind really picked up, you could even see large mounds of dunes shift in shape before your eyes. The "magic" of the desert that they all talked about was apparent. Every so often, you could hear the loud groan of the sand rubbing in the wind in the distance as well. And at night, like it was now, this was especially eerie. He made a silent hope to himself that the harpies didn't travel at night, then looked around for Rebec before setting up a tent. Rebec had offered to help cook the dinner, and so had Menel- who was very motivated- but the guides shooed them away and Suri whispered that it was better not to insist. Desert folk took hospitality very seriously, even if it was paid hospitality. Rebec sent the men who would take first watch off to get some shut-eye, then sat down with Suri on a rock shelf overlooking the fire pit. She spied Baldur and waved him over. Baldur ruffled Suri's hair as he came by, then sat with Rebec, plopping down wearily before placing a hand on her shoulder. "So much for a vacation, huh? Just can't catch a break. At least it's a nice view, though." "And we had horses! A whole day on horseback is no picnic either, though." "You'll get used to it," Suri consoled. "It gets better in a day or two, after your skin is toughened." "Ra Gada skin, maybe. Nord skin takes longer. Any of the Necros had any of that exposed, it's red as hot coals now, and probably feels like that's what it's got on it." "The desert is so beautiful, though." Suri's face was beaming as she looked out at the velvet darkness creeping up from the sands. "It tests, but it also purifies." Rebec gave her niece a skeptical glance. "I like my impurities." "Speak for yourself, softie. Necro Nord skin's already dead. And speaking of impurities, I made sure to bring some more of this from the ship," said Baldur who procured another bottle of Baldurbrau, which he put in front of Rebec only to pull away and drink some himself. Grinning, he said, "It may be hotter than Mehrune's asshole out here, but I brought a little Skyrim with me." "Ohhh gods, hand that over." Rebec made a grab for it, keeping her voice down so as not to attract attention. If the men overheard, they'd have mooning Stormcloaks hanging around like vultures. Baldur already sneaked a bottle into him before he joined the two, but Rebec didn't need to know that. He waited till she got a good swig, then grabbed back at it for another drink. "Suri, how often do you find yourself in the desert out here, and why?" "I came twice with Mother to negotiate trade deals, but we didn't go far in. I've never been to this oasis everyone's talking about. For years I've longed to study with the sword masters in the deep desert, but my parents wouldn't allow it. Fighting in Skyrim convinced them I'm not a little girl any longer." Baldur suddenly started doubting the wisdom of bringing Suri with them. Their work was dangerous, this even more so, being so far from Skyrim. At least in the war, he had an army. The Necro Nords were just about as elite a force as you could find in Tamriel, other than a few rare knightly orders, and the Justiciars themselves, but he only had twenty of them. If something happened with Suri, it would be his fault. "You know, Suri. You shouldn't be in a hurry to risk your life. There's a reason I didn't kill my first man until I was twenty five. As much as I hated my pa, I made sure I stayed with him until I finished my Legion training from him." "Are you going to lecture me, too? I've been studying swordplay since I was five. But I didn't come along just for that. What you're doing is important, and I can help you. Do you know how many people died here because the Thalmor under-estimated us? That was our parents, and now it's our turn." "Never try to cut a tree down in the wintertime, Suri. That's all I'm saying. A patient man doesn't need to swing his blade, when he has impatient enemies who will gladly fall on it," said Baldur. "I'm not cutting trees for fun. Or do you think that's the only reason I'm here?" "No, of course not. I wouldn't be out here myself if I didn't need to be, and your aunt and I like to fight. Or at least, I did." Baldur thought back to his initial excitement with the pirates. Him almost having his throat slit wasn't part of that plan. And Rebec would have been alone. "It's your homeland, and you want to be a part of helping it, I get it. It's just that if anything happened to you, it would be my fault. And you're a part of my family now, so naturally I worry. That's all." Suri's defensiveness eased. "It wouldn't be your fault. That's saying I'm not responsible for myself, and I am. I would rather risk my life for something important than stay home and let others do the work. Hammerfell has a chance of being truly free now, but only if the Thalmor threat is put down for good." Rebec smiled over at her husband. "Can't argue with that, can you? Besides, Suri dreams about stuff a lot crazier than this. She wants me to take her to find Yokuda." "Cyrus went there, they say," Suri replied, sheepish. Baldur didn't smile, but she had a point. However, he wasn't sure he could use that with her parents if something did happen. They were reasonable though, and likely understood the risks. Vigge on the other hand was practically looking for an excuse to hate him, at least from his perspective. "The Thalmor aren't likely going anywhere for a long time. Besides back to Alinor, maybe. Anyway, wasn't Yokuda sunken a long time ago by the Sword-Singers? How would we go there?" "There are supposed to be islands of it remaining still above the water. I've been studying water breathing potions, and with those you could even study the sunken parts." Suri's voice had turned animated, the subject clearly firing her imagination. "What did you lot do, anyway, to sink your whole continent?" As she talked, Rebec leaned over and grabbed the mead bottle back from Baldur's hands. Suri was silent a moment. "It wasn't a matter of what the Yokudans did. Nirn requires a balance. From time to time, adjustments need to be made." Rebec laughed, choking on a swig of mead. "That's some adjustment." Her niece appeared uncomfortable with the topic. "It's what the Ansei says. You shouldn't make light, Aunt Rebec." "I think the Ansei is the one doing that." "From what I understand, they were set upon by their Emperor, and when the Ansei realized they weren't welcome, they decided to sink Yokuda with a magic sword technique. Imagine what would have happened if Wulfharth decided to take up that mentality as well... Or Jurgen..." said Baldur. "That sounds to me like bragging," Rebec answered. "No swordsmen, I don't care how powerful, could sink a continent." "Our ancestors did it to Nirn. That's where your beloved oceans came from, love. Look at how powerful the tongues were. Wulfharth had a shout that restored our years almost fully when taken by Alduin himself. Magic is an extraordinary force." "Sunk the whole thing?" Rebec sounded skeptical. "If a man farts and the world ends afterward, he can start to believe he's got magical gas. If he survives, that is." "Are you calling Sword Singing a fart?" Suri made as to be offended. Baldur said, "Your aunt is skeptical by nature, which serves her well...at times. Some think it was sunk by natural causes of some kind. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle. Perhaps some sort of lava channel was hit with the magic, causing it to sink. It was an island continent, after all. Or maybe they had the help of the HoonDing." "So what happened with the Left Handed Elves?" "What happened with the Snow Elves?" Suri asked pointedly. "Alright. You got me there," Rebec admitted. "Funny how the Ra Gada and Nords are so alike in some ways and so different in others." Baldur said, "Personally, I'm not ashamed of what our ancestors did when it comes to the Snow Elves. I'd say I'm sorry that the two sides had to come to blows like that, but Tamriel's history was built on our two sides trying to eradicate the other. If we didn't do it to them, they'd have done it to us. And now that hatred has left them twisted and deformed. Dwelling in caves like freaks. I won't say they deserved it, but that's war. Things get out of hand. I'm sure the Yokudans had their reasons." "Living in caves," Rebec scoffed. "That's more tall tales from mead-drunk adventurers or hunters scared of their own shadow. You ever seen one?" "You bet I have, and I have their ears to prove it," said Baldur. "During my time as a merc. It was my last official job as a Black Mongrel. They're not around anymore. I wrote about the first time I found them. It was actually right in Hafingaar. It's not done like the other book is, but it's close. You don't want to find them. They've trained chaurus." "You aren't pulling my leg? This isn't some kind of bard thing?" "I wouldn't joke about that, Rebec. We lost a lot of good people on that mission. I still get nightmares on it. The ears are in one of those chests in your home in Solitude along with a few other interesting things I collected in my adventuring days." Rebec pursed her lips. She would've preferred the thought of Baldur battling twisted elves with trained monsters in dodgy caves as a bard story rather than reality, especially when they were far from home facing gods knew what else. Before she could answer, Suri asked, "How long were you a mercenary, Uncle? What made you decide to join the Stormcloaks instead?" Baldur had to think on that for a while. He hadn't thought about those days in a long time, and preferred they stay out of his head. He only put that last mission to paper because he was thinking of his children...and if the coming war claimed his life. "I was a merc for...about six years, I'd say. At least in the "professional" sense. After that mission with the elves, I got tired of losing friends, so I left the band after that in year 192." Baldur turned to Rebec, then said, "That's part of why I flipped when Reval died the way he did, and why I'm kind of glad Boldir retired. After that, I just wandered, singing and drinking. Mostly drinking. If I was in a real bad spot money wise, I'd do the occasional job killing bandits or guarding milk drinking nobles while they traveled Skyrim. I joined the Stormcloaks because I saw one last chance not to end up as either a lone drunk, or another dead Nord in some cave chasing glory without a cause, because he has nothing better to do with his life. Even if I died a soldier, at least I died with a family, and a cause worth fighting for beyond gold." Rebec took his hand, and smiled sadly. Now she didn't know if it was worse to hear about Baldur's fighting, or about him looking for a family. "You had some good shield brothers during that time, too, didn't you? What about that axe-wielding Bosmer?" Baldur held her hand in return and smiled while he reminisced on some of his friends. "Oh yes, definitely. Being a bard did me some favors. I won't tell you what happened with Maori yet, so as not to spoil the book, but he was a character. You'd like him, if you don't mind his palate... and my friend Toralf, an ex Thieves Guild member who loved to kill, steal, sing, albeit badly, and of course, cheap women and cheap booze, which for him went hand in hand. I miss them both. But I wouldn't change my past even if I could. It just makes what I have that much sweeter. Like a starving man who was just given a steak." "Maybe I should become a mercenary," Suri said. At Rebec's shocked look, she laughed and stood to her feet. "I'm just kidding, Auntie. I'm going to go talk to the guides and see if I can get anything out of them about who's coming to this meeting, and how long it'll take us to get to the oasis." Baldur shrugged, then said, "I don't have anything against the profession. It's just a hollow existence. Dead end lifestyle. But if you want some experience, but more excitement and gold than the soldier life gives, then you should go for it. The Alik'r mercenary group's an option. Make sure you ask about them, by the way. And the food. I'm starting to get too tired to eat." "The ones who were in Skyrim? Alright, I'll ask." Suri picked her way carefully down the rocks towards the campfire. Rebec watched her go, then elbowed her husband. "Gods, Baldur. If we come back and Suri's joined some desert merc group, I'll never hear the end of it." She grinned. "So when do I get to read the rest of your book? Did you bring it?" "Mm, I did, but now's not really the time for reading it, don't you think? Maybe later when we're done with at least some of this. What about you? Been a while since you told me one of your sailor tales." "Don't make me think about the sea when we're in a sea full of sand. Before we go home, we'll hit Stros M'Kai. That's as sailorish a place as anywhere in Tamriel and you can listen to all the yarns you want in their taverns. They have a battlemage school and I'm told that's where their forward navy base is now, so it's an important stop for us. Maybe we'll run into my old pal, Bel Aksim. He's a ship captain, helped me get establish down here when I was first starting out." "A ship captain? He's not one of your..." Baldur remembered briefly her talk of acquaintances, and hoped that any ship Captains she was with before was someone they didn't come across. She bit her lip. Damn. "Uh... we probably won't run into him. I haven't seen him since before the war. Who in Oblivion knows where he is now. Running smuggler lines to Elsweyr, maybe." Rebec stood, shaking her cloak to rid it of sand. "Let's go see if the stew is ready. I hope they didn't put too much chile in it. Ra Gada always making stuff so blasted hot." Baldur followed her, albeit silently. Him getting his confirmation of the two didn't leave him in a chatty mood, and he hoped for this captain's sake he didn't meet him. Nothing good could come of it for anyone. At least she hadn't seen this captain in a long time though, he thought. Suri came up to them and relayed the information that the guides expected to reach Zelik'ma sometime on the third day, if the Nords were able to keep up as they had the first day. That seemed a point of doubt. "And they said we were being 'watched,'" she added. "What does that mean?" Rebec asked. "I gather that it means the tribes all know you're here, and they expect some travelers to join us soon. I'm sorry, I couldn't get any more details out of them than that." Rebec and Baldur exchanged glances, but when bowls of stew began to be passed around, appetite from the long ride took over. As the admiral predicted, it was studded with the red pepper paste of Baldur's fame, as well as orange, with a starchy potato-like vegetable and lamb sausage. After they had eaten and the tents were set up, Rebec asked her husband, "Have you ever had a sand bath?" Baldur raised an eyebrow, then said, "How much of that mead did you have? You found where I stashed it, didn't you?" "No, but I will now. Come on, I'm not sharing a tent with the stink we're both giving off. Get your sleeping clothes and we'll go off close by where no one's watching. Hopefully." Rebec recalled the guides' words, that they were being watched, and wondered how that was possible when for miles around all you could see was desert. She found a spot out in the darkness near the camp where the sand was glittering with minerals and not too fine, then began stripping clothes. "If you try to wash with water, a minute later sand will be stuck to your wet skin and you'll be dirtier than when you started. This is how the desert folk clean themselves when they're out and about." When Baldur was naked, Rebec scooped up a pan full of the sand and said, "Ready? Cover your eyes." The whole time Baldur was stripping, he was waiting for someone to pop out and say 'gotcha!' He never heard of sand bathing before, at least not from anyone but animals, and he wondered how uncomfortable it would be to actually be dumped with it. But Rebec's expression was stern... which, given how silly he felt doing this, seeing how serious she was made him laugh. "Alright. Ready I guess." "Trust me, you'll feel better." Unceremoniously Rebec dumped the pan full of hot mineral sand over her husband's head, then grabbed some scrub grass and used it as a cleaning mitt, the grass and grains of hot sand blasting away at the surface of his skin and then being carried off by the wind. By the time she got to rubbing at his hair and beard, she was laughing. "You're an official sand rat now, my big Nord." "Wonderful, this is every man's dream. When they're five, that is," he said, laughing in turn at the unexpected strange experience, which somehow actually worked. How anyone figured out how to bathe in sand the first time was beyond him. Probably observing the bakyaka and other animals of the desert. By the time she was done with his hair, he shook his body out like a dog to get the remaining dust off, then threw his hair back and forth to do the same. "Your turn now," he said with a grin, looking forward to cleaning his wife. Besides the obvious fun of it, he wasn't going to say it but her hair somehow managed to trap the smell of bakyaka in it even though they were riding on horses. "Alright, go for it." Rebec put her hands over her eyes, but didn't completely trust Baldur not to succumb to bardish wiles, so took a peek just as he dumped sand over her head and she got an eyeful of it. Then she yelled and got a mouthful, too. Spitting and blind, she then found that the grass made her ticklish, and ended up swallowing a good bit of sand in the effort not to laugh. Baldur had the grass in one hand and his other hand on his stomach from laughing, which he couldn't help. "You never could keep from peeking, could you? Ha, serves you right! Don't worry, I'll clear it out." Baldur took extra care with her hair, then applied the grass to her belly to tickle her again for good measure, then started wiping the rest of the dust from her hair with his hand, then lifted her head up with a finger under her chin to see the eye. Gently, he had her open the irritated eye, so he could carefully blow on it to get any dust from out of it. Letting go so she could blink, he said, "Better?" "This is supposed to be more relaxing." In fact the combination of cool night breezes and hot sand was both invigorating and good for their sore muscles. Rebec wrapped herself in her loose sleeping robe, and made a stop at the well to rinse out her mouth. While Baldur went off to set up their tent, Rebec helped Suri clean herself in the same way, then tried to tell Menel and the Necro Nords how to go about it. Most were skeptical of the notion and declined. They would learn. The final touch was a pot of aromatic oils that Raesa had tucked the Red-Snows' pack. Inside their tent, Rebec put a little of it onto Baldur's back and arms and rubbed him down with a rough-weave cloth, just enough to replenish the skin's oils but not enough to make the sand stick. She let him do the same for her, then rubbed a little on his lips to heal the cracks from the day's dry heat. By the time Rebec finished, her thoughts had fully turned to other comforts, and she tested out the oil's work with a kiss, and then a few more. Climbing on to Baldur's lap, she wrapped both arms and legs around him. Her thigh muscles complained from the long ride, but she was too busy to notice. In truth, Baldur hadn't been planning on any nighttime festivities, due to exhaustion, but by now, especially after the sand shower, most of that had passed. While she held onto him, he ran his fingers through her hair, then breathed in the scent of the grass and oils on her neck. He groaned softly into her skin from the pleasantness of it, and so that she'd feel tingles go down her spine as he ran a finger down her freshly oiled back. "I was wondering if we'd ever find time for this in the desert. You smell wonderful." By now his wandering hand found it's way to her haunches where they encouraged her to grind against him. He thought back to when he first saw her, and how he never would have imagined that first night to lead to all this. She complied, smiling as she rested her cheek against his and squirmed on him, then reached down with her hand to help them along, and squirmed some more to seat him more deeply. They were both too tired for long festivities, but in any case Rebec was so eager that that wasn't necessary. Turning her face into his shoulder to stifle her moans, she let the heat rise up through her middle until it flooded through her limbs. Then, trembling and docile with relief, she kept moving to urge Baldur to the same. He could feel from her quivering that she wouldn't take long, which was good, since he too was eager from the built up tension of rubbing each other with the oils. Feeling her constrict around him while inside her when she finished brought him closer to the edge, which made him lay back while he continued to help her move against him while he moved along with her. He could feel her tensing up again a few minutes later, and he put a hand behind her head to kiss deeply as she constricted again to accept his release, which was shared with her second. He groaned again as he did while they kissed, then pulled at her bottom lip playfully after he sighed from relief. "Ah, hehe. Suddenly, I feel like I haven't walked in weeks." "Amazing how that works," Rebec agreed, smiling, the tension all gone out of her. Outside the night air had grown quite cold as the desert gave up its heat as quickly as it had built it up. Drawing their light coverings over them, Rebec nestled into Baldur's side and tried to fall asleep. The nagging worries of the trip tugged at her thoughts, but tiredness overcame them. Sometime later, Rebec awoke and extracted herself from Baldur's embrace, throwing on her sleep robe and going outside to relieve herself. Just as she had finished, she looked up to find the female Alik'r guide staring down at her with glittering eyes. Rebec suddenly realized she was without her axe, but the woman remained completely still, and a second later seemed to vanish entirely. Grumbling something about them being worse than elves, Rebec was almost back to the tent when she felt more than heard others moving in the camp. This time she did retrieve her axe, quickly, though when she emerged again, a man she didn't know said, "You must be the Nord admiral. I am Kematu and have been looking for you. We'll speak more in the morning." "We'll speak now, if you know what's good for you," Baldur said from behind Rebec. He hadn't had time to slip anything on and was nude with nothing but an axe in hand. Falgrum came forward a moment later with his claymore pointing towards the back of one of the Alik'r men moving around their camp. The Alik'r merc didn't seem bothered, though. His sword wasn't even drawn. "We don't take kindly to sneaky types moving in through our perimeter. State your business," Falgrum said, keeping his good right eye trained on the mercenary leader while the milky one seemed to stare through him. Kematu looked around at the trio, and then at the Alik'r merc who had been caught. To Baldur, he said, "These aren't normal Stormcloaks, I take it. Good. You're not fools, then. You have nothing to fear from us, don't worry. Like I said, we'll talk in the morning." Without another word, he and his mercenary walked off with one of the guides who signaled for the two to follow them to their side of the camp. Rebec exchanged looks with Baldur, her dubious expression visible in the moons' light. "These redguard are like Khajiit. I'm not sure I can sleep any more tonight. I'll get my gear and relieve one of the men on third watch." "You're in charge with me, so I need you to rest. That's what these guys are for. But if you insist, then fine. Falgrum, you're on night duty too. Double patrol," he said. "Got it. I barely sleep anyway. Oh, nice outfit, by the way sir." Baldur looked from the redheaded Nord to his nakedness, then grinned. "Well, it wouldn't have been the first time I had to fight naked. Go on with you now." He left for the tent then and slipped on his night pants, then climbed back to bed, not shaken by the sneaky Ra Gada enough to lose sleep. Rebec looked from the campsite back to the tent, torn. Finally she decided that she would go back to bed, but remain alert to listen for any trouble. That lasted for all of five minutes until she was fast asleep again. The night was a short one, their guides eager to get some distance behind them before the sun rose. Breakfast was cornmeal rolls with goat cheese and cups of hot tea. Baldur awoke before most of the others along with Rebec, and went off to Suri's tent to wake her, knowing she'd want to talk to the Ra Gada warrior as well. Tapping on her tent flap with an axe after walking past the group of Necro Nord bedrolls, Baldur said, "Suri! Rise and shine, we've got company as of last night. It's Alik'r." After a moment, Suri poked her head out, sleepy-eyed and her normally pulled-back hair loose and wild with curls. "Is everything alright?" "I don't know, really. We're not under attack, so that's a start." Suri mumbled something and disappeared into her tent again. Meanwhile Rebec came over. "The Alik'r say they'll talk to us on the way. They want to get everyone moving. I think they're the mercs who were in Skyrim. Though they don't like being called mercs, word to the wise." "I'm sure he'll get over the slip up if I do. Anyway, tell them I need to speak to their leader now. We don't answer to them and I want to make that clear. They need us just as much as we need them, and I'm not walking anywhere with them without knowing more. I'm not going in this blind," said Baldur. Grinning, Rebec said, "Aye aye, General sir. I'll tell them. But they're right that we should move soon." A few minutes later, there were impatient redguard assembled in the firepit area. The pink of dawn was just starting to show above the cliffs. Baldur came over with his brown horse behind him, grinning at the sour look they were giving him. Kematu said, "Well? What is it, Nord? I'd rather we not be late, and travel is easier if we move b-," "Yea yea, I get that. My men are all lined up and ready to leave. I just wanted you to answer a few questions now and not when you please, so start talking now while we wait for the others to line up. One, who are you exactly, two, why were you looking for us, and three, who's going to be at this oasis?" "I am Kematu, leader of the Alik'r warriors. I was the one in Skyrim who was given such difficulty in my search for the Thalmor spy..." "If my wife didn't already say it, you should know that wasn't us. You were dealing with Balgruuf. He wasn't on our side, so that means he had to tolerate the Thalmor. But, from what I understand, your men didn't actually come out and say she was Thalmor. Why was that?" asked Baldur. He looked behind him and saw that his men were lined up now, so he hopped on his horse and waited for Kematu to walk beside him while they walked over to where Suri and Rebec were waiting close by. "We were aware of the Thalmor and the assistance they were receiving. If we mentioned them, we'd have surely been set upon as your men were in Whiterun hold." "Balgruuf had some Thalmor spy holed up in his city?" Rebec asked as they walked along. "How did you know about it way out here in the desert, and what business of it was yours?" "The Taneth sent us. They saw her take off to Skyrim, and we went after her, since we don't involve ourselves with the Crowns or Forebears, and we're known for our hate of the Thalmor. There was no one better. After that, we went around and questioned who we could on her location. Simple. Except the part where we couldn't get in the city." Baldur said, "So why were you looking for us?" Kematu stayed quiet for a while, as if he was wondering that himself. Finally, he said, "I was looking for you, because our enemies were looking for you. Why, I'm not sure. As I said, we're neutral, so if you came around here normally, we'd send you on your way and direct you to someone you actually need to bother yourselves with. We'll fight for whoever needs us to against the Thalmor. So that's the only reason why I'm here with you know, and as I said, I don't know why they want you, but that's why we're going to the Oasis. They've agreed to have a nonviolent meeting there, so we can all get some answers." "So this could be a trap. For you and us." "Could be. Probably is," he said simply. "But my men are ready for that. They're waiting for us now near the meeting spot. The other group, Alik'r Warrior mutineers; they don't know I'm with you. There's also another warrior band called the Warriors of the Satak. Snake worshiping warrior band. You'll recognize them by their distinct forked tongues and wavy blades. They're new upstarts. But we underestimate no one." Rebec glanced at Baldur. "You think that snake worshiper we saw in Sentinel could've been watching us?" Baldur raised an eyebrow, as did Kematu. "Wow, maybe. That's really creepy," Baldur said. Kematu's brow wrinkled in frustration, then said, "We need to be careful, then in that case. I don't know why they'd be interested in you. They're probably just keeping tabs though, like I am. Still, there's too many eyes on you, and I'm in the dark as to why. And I don't like it. We need to double time it to the Oasis." "I'm all for that," she nodded. "I wouldn't think this would be so complicated. Redguard hate Thalmor more than anyone. All we're asking is for people to work together to make sure the Thalmor are no longer a threat to any of us. But I know these are ancient gripes people have with the Nords and imperials." By now, Baldur and the others moved to the front of the Necro Nords and behind the guides who were patiently waiting. While they moved to the front and finally continued their journey, Baldur said, "Which won't matter if we're all dead from Aldmeri blades. If the Alik'r are neutral, I'd have thought that would extend to all branches, but whatever reason they left, it must have been bad enough to split when Hammerfell is supposed to be united. But it seems that the Ra Gada are just as split as ever. Even if they're not killing each other while they are. Not much different from the Bretons," Baldur said. Kematu turned his head sharply up at Baldur on his horse, then he said, "Do not compare the strength of the Ra Gada to those...those..." "Milk-drinkers?" Baldur cut in while smiling. "Uh, yes. Milk drinkers. The Ra Gada will stand together when the time comes. You just better do your part and show that we only have to worry about one enemy when the war comes. We may be all humans, but the Ra Gada were outsiders to all Tamriel dwellers when we first arrived, and I'm not that certain that has changed." "You lot and the Bretons get along just fine when you're going after the orcs," Rebec mumbled. It was one reason she had decided not to bring Mazoga along, despite her first mate's protest. She and the crew of the Black Wisp would do some short-distance trading routes for Vilnur and Raesa in the meantime. The sun began to beat down on them, though at the same time there was a hot wind that blew sand into their faces, making it difficult for man, mer and beast to breathe. The day before, they had followed a hard-beaten trail, but as they got deeper into the Alik'r, any sign of a visible trail vanished. Once the sun was straight above them, it was impossible for the Nords to tell which direction was which, yet the guides kept on. They made a short stop for lunch, but with no water source and the scathing wind, it was difficult for anyone to either eat or rest. By afternoon, the sun was no longer as bright. Suri came alongside Rebec and Baldur and said, "The Alik'r are worried about something." "If they say 'we're lost', I'm having desert rat for dinner," said Baldur. "What's the problem?" Before Suri could answer, they heard raised voices from among the Alik'r, an argument. Some of them had stopped and others were gesturing as though to insist that the group keep moving. Rebec moved her horse ahead to find out what was going on, but then a sight that chilled her blood made her hold up. All along the horizon, a wall of what appeared to be dense, brown cloud rose up from the ground and towered into the sky. They all saw it. Sandstorm. Baldur followed after she stopped, and suddenly it was pretty obvious what the Alik'r were arguing about. The Nords followed as well to gawk, which was shortly followed by grumbling and nervous cursing. Eventually Kematu came forward before them to tell the others the plan. "We're moving forward. The faster we advance, the faster we'll get through the storm. When we approach it, we'll huddle up in a circle and cover ourselves until it passes, so we can more easily protect ourselves and so no one gets lost. I hope your men are ready." One of the Nords stepped forward and said, "You must be confusing us with our brothers east of the border. We're not afraid of a little dust up." Baldur looked away from the man to the wall. That's not a little dust..... "Bravado, how useful," Kematu said. "If the storm doesn't make you nervous, the creatures that hunt within it may. Some of the monsters of Hammerfell travel within the storms themselves. Things like giant scorpions, sand wraiths, harpies...." Baldur's eyes shot open at the mention of that, and he looked at Rebec. That's just ******* great! Rebec wanted to smile at Baldur's fear of flying hagravens, but she was having enough trouble keeping control of her nervous horse. The argument among the Alik'r seemed to have ended, so they all trudged towards the oncoming wall of sand. The most eerie thing was the quiet. When they neared the storm, the group lashed the pack animals and horses at the center of the circle and then formed up, weapons drawn, to wait out the onslaught. Rebec stood next to Baldur and gave him a last meaningful look before drawing her cowl over her face to protect it from the sand. Baldur did the same, bringing his sand colored head wrap over his head and pulling the neck wrap over his mouth, as did the Alik'r and Necro Nords. Some of Baldur's hair from the side still poked out from the narrow opening for his eyes that he left uncovered for now. The Alik'r picked a spot and raised their hands for the others to stop, and the group knelt as they watched the storm's slow approach, waiting for it to encompass them. The horses were getting increasingly wild, and Baldur started wondering if they'd have to let them go. The bakyaka however were fine. They were well adapted to dealing with these conditions, from their thick fur and long eyelashes, to their fully closeable nostril passages. The wind was getting more audible as the storm approached, and a lump formed in Baldur's throat as the ominous wall of sand and only the gods knew what else came even closer, like an approaching army. Baldur started imagining the sounds of charging men running on their front flank like back in the civil war. For a minute he almost thought he actually heard it. Wait.... Baldur and the others suddenly turned their head, and in disbelief they gawked as a group of Alik'r warriors came over a dune and started charging them with raised blades! Falgrum was the first to react, as they hesitated briefly from the unexpected ambush. "To arms!" the fire haired Nord cried. At once, the group all raised their weapons and voices in their Yokudan and Skyrim war-cries. Just perfect, Rebec thought, letting go of Suri to draw her second axe. Kematu's enemies, or their own, had obviously decided to use the screen of the sandstorm to try to gain the upper hand. There was no time to damn them for the folly or admire the hubris. Desert warriors slammed into the Nords on a banshee charge, and as Rebec's axes flew, she could only hope that they were meeting the flesh of enemies and not her companions. In the dense fog of sand, with everyone shrouded, it was difficult to tell which was which. She tried to keep close to Baldur and Suri, but even their shouts were swallowed up by the storm. A sword bit into her arm from behind, and Rebec half-turned to slash back at the form wielding it. They grappled, the Alik'r using a dagger in the off-hand which always threatened like a stinger. Rebec's advantage this time was power, and she used her greater weight to make her blows count. The redguard feinted, falling back and back, until Rebec realized that he or she was trying to draw her away from the others so as to swarm her and finish the job. Rebec gave up the chase, backtracking towards the Nords' defensive circle. The lamellar armor protected her from the cuts, though her arm ached and began to swell, and her cloak was in ribbons. Baldur was standing side by side with Falgrum, trying to remain close with Rebec and Suri, and trying to fend off anyone that got too close, but with the chaos of the storm, it was hard enough protecting themselves. The ambush was a mad dash. Barely any technique at all went into their strikes, their only goal being to kill who they could. To Baldur's dismay, he and Falgrum could make out the form of a Necro Nord being sliced and stabbed on the ground in the sand in front of them. He couldn't understand what the Ra Gada were saying, especially with the storm, but he could occasionally make out angry cries with Rebec and Baldur's name in them. It was clear they knew who they were and that they were looking for them. However, it seemed that they couldn't find him, due to the similarity of his outfit to his men's. Falgrum charged forward and shoved his claymore down in through the Ra Gada's heart who was still stabbing the body to finish off the Nord. Baldur nearby jumped over his head after he knelt, and brought his axes down on two charger's skulls, filling them with electrical charge. Afterwards, three chargers came for Baldur in full sprint, then Baldur looked behind him and said, "Now!" When he did, Baldur rolled backwards behind his commander, and Falgrum greeted the chargers with a wide swing, cutting through two of the Ra Gada's necks and grazing the last one's shoulder. The Redguard fell backwards and scurried off behind the other wave of attackers. Baldur could hear his horse in the back going crazy amongst all the chaos, and it was starting to become problematic for the group, so he ordered the men to part, then he cut it's burden and saddle off and smacked the animal's backside and forced it to charge into the oncoming attackers. Amidst the tumult, Menel suddenly realized that he'd been huddled down among the pack animals with his hands over his head. It was an instinctual reaction to extreme stress, but, ashamed, he forced his legs to straighten and began to look around for targets. It was too late for a frenzy spell, but when he saw two Alik'r massing a Necro Nord, he fought his way through the sand and cast a calm spell on the Nord's opponents, began hitting them at close range with ice bolts from his fryse hag staff. Nearby Rebec had found Suri and helped put down the opponent she was facing, then sheathed her ebony axe and used the injured arm to hang on to her niece while she tried to breathe. The fighting seemed to hit a lull, but then Rebec thought she heard a shriek which was different than the wind. Dark shapes descended on them from above, and razor sharp claws sunk into the admiral's back and shoulders. She felt herself being lifted off the ground, and this time it was Suri who was hanging on to her. The redguard dug her boots into the sand, and between Suri and the creature, Rebec felt like she was being torn into two. Ignoring the pain shooting through her body, she hacked back wildly at whatever was holding on to her. The creature shrieked again, and after a moment dropped Rebec to the ground, apparently going off to look for other prey. Baldur saw the beasts descend from the skies to his wife, and for a minute, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and froze. That lasted for about a second before he was running with axes raised to get to it, but Rebec was already dropped before he got there. Suddenly, a mass of shrieking black flew at Baldur from his left and right side, and as he raised his weapons, two Necro Nords tackled the harpies out of the air before either of them could reach him. Baldur could hear screaming in the distance, and figured that the things were attacking the Ra Gada who ambushed them as well. While he was looking in the distance to try and see, more shrieks above him was heard, and before he knew it, he was set upon by a group of the things, but he wasn't sure how many. He began slashing this way and that, and felled one of the creatures by slicing open it's chest at it's exposed disfigured unnatural breasts, but more kept coming. The Necro Nords were slicing into the group as well, but before they could do anything, Baldur was already being lifted from the ground. Two of the things had dug their talons into his left and right shoulder which forced him to yell out angrily in pain, and he was forced to drop his axes. Baldur saw Menel being picked up as well. The last the Necro Nords saw of Baldur was the sight of him still struggling wildly as the things pecked at his head, both having a beak full of his locks, before finally disappearing completely in the sand above them. Rebec got a glimpse of Baldur high off the ground and tried to scream, but the choking sand stole the sound away. The fury of the sandstorm rose to a fever pitch, drowning out all sound and movement but its own churn. There was so much sand in the air that it felt like any creature trying to stand was being pulled down by the weight of it, as if the ground and sky were conspiring to swallow them all up. There was no more fighting, as every person or beast still alive was forced to fight the sand for their survival. Then, silence.

Tacitus, Maori, Gracchus Valenwood/Skingrad Afternoon Tacitus turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees, his shoulders twisting to allow such movement, as he gave the forests of Valenwood one final look. He could still smell the sap, thick and heavy, and the leaves rustling drifted to his ears as well, which were red and raw from bugs and the thick jungle, which took as much a toll on him as did the Thalmor. Tacitus' rags hung in shambles, his pack having more cloth than his clothes. His pants were now basically a loin cloth, with a rope tied around his waist upon which his cutlass hung, and he had no shirt to speak of, revealing a horrible rash of some sort and numerous scars from Thalmor mistreatment, although none were near as bad as was possible. His chest was still prominent, and his arms, but his face was sad, and his broken nose all the worse for wear. His platinum blonde hair streaked with brown, and hunt shaggily down below his shoulders. Still looking back, Tacitus could see occasional glimpses of gold flashing in and out of the trees, Thalmor soldiers preparing for the inevitable war. Ahead, Imperials donned in leather and steel armor did the same, eyeing the one handed Imperial just as wearily as they did his Bosmeri companion. They walked across no mans land, a thin strip of plain in between the two armies, every soldier watching their steps. "Warm welcome, eh?" Tacitus asked Maori, who he'd come to respect, but not necessarily know the last few days. "Better than I expected." Maori said, not at all liking being where he was, but knowing it was necessary. He heard of all the mistreatment elves received in Cyrodiil lately, but he hoped being with the Admiral would help him. Still, he was cautious. "Well, you saw mine, now show me yours. Your homeland, I mean." "I hope that's what you mean. I don't happen to swing that way, haha," Tacitus said with a light air, trying to hide his nervousness. These men wouldn't recognize him, they were no sailors, and there's no telling how they would react to his letter from General Corio. It was a crapshoot, that much was fact. "We may have to start swinging all sort of ways if this turns south. With our weapons, I mean," said Maori. "For your sake, I hope you really are an Admiral. Me, I'm at least swift on my feet. They'll probably question me as well as you, I assume. May even have to see the inside of a cell for a while." "Wouldn't doubt it, although I'd like to see 'em try and shackle me," Tacitus held up his stump, then chuckled again. They were about to the Imperial defensive line, were ditches filled with spikes waited for them. Several mounds of dirt held abatis, or tree branches with each branch sharpened to a point and the end stuck in the dirt. Chevel de frise, anti-cavalry defenses made the openings in between the outs and mounds strategic choke points, so any attacker would have to filter through the funnel like areas, lined with the sharpened stick traps. "Stop right there!" an Imperial guard cried out, while two others aimed a bow at Tacitus and Maori. "Drop your stuff on the ground, and walk forward. Now," the man said, and Tacitus obliged so as not to provoke them. Maori was about to do the same, but then he caught a glance of one of the Imperials and how he held the bow. He couldn't help what he did next. "You're doing it all wrong. The way you're holding that, the arrow would drift to the side. At worst, you'd graze me." In truth, the Imperial was aiming it just fine, for a human. But it was hard for a Bosmer to accept imperfection with archery. "You really think nows the time to critique him?" Tacitus asked out of the side of his mouth. The soldier stammered, looking mightily embarrassed. "Uh-uh, I-uh, was-" "Just shut up Claude," the guard who shouted the first time said, then commanded, "Drop you weapons, elf, before we drop you." "Alright lads, I'm dropping them," said Maori as he laid his bow and arrows down. As he was removing his hidden daggers from various parts of his armor, he said, "Sorry about that, Tacitus. Was kind of a reaction thing. You humans could learn a thing about archery from us. Especially now." "Hmm, you'll have to take that up with the generals. My naval archers are the best, they have to be to hit targets at sea like that," Tacitus grinned an ugly grin, showing the lack of teeth he now exhibited. The soldiers came out, around four of them, picking up the weapons and escorting the pair towards a ramshackle shack, where Imperial banners hung over the windows. The guards were silent, probably watching the their prisoners. Inside the dimly lit cabin sat a lean, yet muscular general, who looked at a map...angrily, if one could be angry at a map. "What the hell do you want, Tribune? And who's the elf, and blonde-one-hand?" the perturbed man said, almost yelling at the group. "That would be your Admiral, who gave that hand for his land, so watch your mouth, asshole," said Maori. Oops. "Hahahaha! You're a f****** funny Bosmer, ya know that? As if I'd believe that mangy looking mutt could've ever been anyone....important," the general's voice trailed off, his smile fading into a stern frown, possibly realizing this man might be the High Admiral The Imperial general studied his kinsman, trying to distinguish if it was the naval commander. He'd seen him only once, when the man first became admiral, as he'd been apart of the selection committee. Tacitus probably didn't remember him, one face in thirty. But the general thought he did, the blonde hair and the horribly crooked nose both looked familiar, as did the large frame of the man. "What's your name, Imperial?" the general asked, hoping questions would reveal the man's identity. "Tacitus, and considering what he went through, I think you should speed this up so we can get some damn rest. He deserves that, at least. And a meal. With meat. Lots of meat. And maybe some for the friendly Bosmer that assisted him, hmm?" Before the wave of suspicion from his own people hits. It's a shame, but I can't blame them. Tacitus was about to answer when Maori jumped in. S*** Maori, just be quiet, please, he thought. "Tacitus Silus Meridius, sir. High Admiral of the Imperial navy, er, I was before my ship was sunk. I was captured by the Thalmor, and tortured, before...I escaped. Maori here assisted when they were transferring me to a new prison. He could tell I was important, so he and a few friends got me out of there. They didn't make it, sadly. Look, if you don't believe me, check my sword. It's inscribed, I got it when I was promoted," Tacitus said guiltily, knowing that lying was the only option. They wouldn't believe him if he said he was going to deliver an axe, to someone who "stains the snow." The Imperial general rubbed his chin, then motioned with his hand for the sword. He pulled it out of the scabbard, then flipped it over to read the inscription. High Admiral Tacitus Silus Meridius it said, and the general glanced up warily eyeing the pair. "General Tyrellius Flaccus, of the Tenth Legion. Pleasure to meet you both. I'll grant you food and lodging for the night," the usually foul mouthed Tyrellius was decidedly cleaner tongued, something his men found quite unusual. "That's more like it," Maori said, completely oblivious to how little his demeanor helped. He was going to ask the general info on Skyrim and the alliance Cyrodiil had, but figured that would be suspicious. "So, what happens after that?" "I assumed sea-ninny here would probably want to return to the capital to look after his precious boats, so you lot would be leaving ASAP. All the better for it, I don't need any distractions here on the front lines," General Flaccus grumbled out, dropping the niceness. "Boy, you lot sure don't have any respect around here, do you? The man lost his hand. If that's how you treat recent POW's, then the sentiment of wanting us to part is shared." Maori wasn't aware of the irony of talking about respect, given his bad jokes. "In any case, we need to leave asap anyway. He's got a war to get ready for, and I guess I can hang around for a while to give information. Then I'm off to Skyrim. If that's all, I'd like to be shown a room." Tacitus laughed, loud and hearty, and shook his head. "That's how soldiers treat each other Maori. Plus, I wouldn't want to stick around this shitified hole anyway. Place smells like landies, probably no baths for miles. I smell better in prison. We'll leave in the morning, with two horses," Tacitus didn't ask for the horses, but commanded them. Tyrellius grumbled some more, his hands balling up into fists. He wasn't accustomed to taking orders, especially not from a s***-for-brains elf and this sailor. "Whatever. Take the f****** horses. Oh, an by the way, we only have tents. So, these losers will show you to your lovely accommodations. Any more questions?" the general asked, with an evil grin on his face. "I'm a Bosmer from Valenwood. I sleep outside most of the time, branch-romper. So keep on grinning." The only person it will be an inconvenience to is his mother tonight. Maori said this to Tacitus under his breath with a grin. Tacitus slapped his friend on the back, laughing as he did, before they followed the soldiers outside, leaving General Flaccus silently cussing the Bosmer and Admiral. ** The next morning, the pair rose early, greeted by plates of hard bread and a porridgey mush that smelled like feet, and tasted little better. Tacitus put on some new clothes, a pair of peasant trousers and tunic. "Well, I guess it's better than the worms you tricked me into eating," Tacitus said before taking a bite. His mouth convulsed into a grimace, and his lips pursed. "Ugh, I take that back." Maori took a sniff, then poured out the food. "Yea, **** that. I'll use the bread to attract some birds, and we can get some meat later. At least the worms didn't smell like Mannimarco's dead asshole." "How would you know, you didn't eat them!" Tacitus exclaimed, then went on eating the mush. He'd eaten worse before, so it wasn't that bad considering all things. "I've had worms before, and a few beetles and so on. Now that's good eating! Crunchy, juicy, then chewy...Mmmm. I like to play with them with my tongue and feel the life smush out of them while I chew slowly. That muck you're going down on... Bleh. There's not even any meat! Not much anyway. I bet it's khajiit. You ever had khajiit? Gives me the runs. Too sweet. Cathey-Raht's pretty good, though." "Gods you're a disgusting creature. As if the cannibalism wasn't enough, you've lowered yourself to eating insects. Anyway, you ruined my appetite, so pack up an lets go," Tacitus looked a little queasy after the bug talk, so he packed quickly and waited for Maori outside. Maori followed behind him while he continued the conversation. "Is it really cannibalism if it's not my race? I mean, yea I eat Bosmer too, but humans and such aren't my race. Anyway, you should try it sometime, it's just meat like anything else. And the bugs, we have beetles the size of your head, and they kinda taste like shrimp, really, except with a different texture and so on. I like to pack them with peppers and slow cook them on a shish kabob over the fire and wrap the whole thing with lemon soaked Cathey Raht tail. Oooh Y'ffre, what I wouldn't do for that meal right now...I'll settle for some seared deer though. Where are we going again?" "Oh shut up about the f****** bugs already! I'm about to hurl," Tacitus pulled himself up on the horse, a strange action with only one hand. "We're going to Skingrad, then to the Imperial City. Skingrad is the closest city, about half a days ride. Then we'll book it to the capital before nightfall, and if we can't just ride into the night. So, get your brown a** up on the horse, and for the love of the gods don't eat the damn thing," Tacitus pleaded the Bosmer. Maori didn't bother hiding his amusement, laughing as he nimbly mounted the beast, then looked down at his grumbling belly. "You better hope we find a minotaur or something, then. Minotaur steak. Auhhhh, I've never had that before...This'll be great! I can see Cyrodiil without having to worry about Justiciars now." "Yay for Maori, the hungry Bosmer who can now travel unassailed. Lets all give a big whoop-de-f******-do for him!" Tacitus mocked, before sending a boot into the horse's flank, causing the beast to gallop off. "Oh hush your grumpy mouth. You're just in a bad mood because you ate the soup equivalent of man spunk, hehe. You're home now, so there's that, if nothing else." "Last I heard, my home was taken over by Skooma smugglers. I grew up in Bravil, and it turned to s*** not long before I was captured. That ship was my real home, out on the ocean. We were givin' the Thalmor a real a** whoopin' too, and I hope they didn't stop on my account," Tacitus said, slowing his steed into a trot. Maori didn't have an answer for that. Tacitus' luck, despite surviving was rather shoddy, so he figured it was best to stay quiet for a while. Anything he said would only make things worse anyway. The admiral pulled on the reins, stopping his horse in front of Maori's. "What, no ill times comment or smart a** remark? Seems all I've got to do to make you quiet is talk about my awful life, which is even worse than you think. My wife and kid died in childbirth, so how's that for tragic? My parents made it out of Bravil okay, so there's that." Tacitus started riding again, the horse resuming the trot. "Funny, I can count on my fingers how many people know that about me. Color yourself lucky," he said grumpily, then rode on in silence. Maori trotted along next to him, then said, "Well in that sense, you're luckier than I. I'm glad you have someone to be proud of what you've done. And to mourn for what it cost." Tacitus lowered his voice and looked away from Maori, saying to himself, "Proud of what I've done, but not of what I'll be doing." He then raised his voice and said, "Whatever. Let's just finish the ride in silence and maybe my mood will improve." Maori looked like he was about to say something else, but then he turned his head in front of him and did as he suggested. His grumbling stomach giving him extra incentive to do so, as it was hard to talk on an empty stomach. Suddenly the stale bread he had didn't seem so bad after all. *** By the time the pair reached Skingrad, Tacitus' mood had improved considerably, and they'd started talking again as if nothing had happened. Tacitus was usually the type to hold a grudge, but he'd taken a liking to Maori, even with his recent hatred of the Thalmor growing to enormous proportions. The men got into the city via the western gate, bouncing atop their horses as they waded through the crowd. "You ever been here before?" Tacitus asked his companion. "In Skingrad? Hell no, I avoided this place like the plague. Thalmor crawling all over the place. I stuck to the roads until I got to Cheydinhall to get to the narrow passages in the mountains to Skyrim. Couldn't go through Bruma, that place was crawling with them too, due to the presence of the Nords and the worshipers of Talos and Ysmir. It was a shame too. This place is...so alien. All the stonework..." "What about the Imperial City? Ever visit there? Because if you think this place is alien, just wait," Tacitus said, using his horse to wedge his way into the crowd. Up ahead he saw several men on horseback as well, but he didn't think much of it. "I mean, I saw it...Kinda hard not to see that giant dick standing in the middle of the isle there, but I didn't go in. It would have been suicide for me and my sister for sure. Belly of the beast and all that. She and I spent a number of days camping under the starts looking at it. It just saddened me more to think the Thalmor had it under their grasp, almost like in the days of the Ayleids." "It is rather dick like, isn't it? The gleaming white and gold dick. Rather appropriate since most people see us as dicks anyway," Tacitus laughed a little, but stopped when he saw who the men on horseback were. More Imperial soldiers, with a gray-haired general seated on a dapple gray destrier, or war horse. Both had proud, almost haughty look about them. "Just our luck, looks like we've run into another general. Hope this one isn't a prick like the last," Tacitus told Maori, as they approached the procession. "I think that comes with the job description. Thalmor commanders aren't the only ones I guess. Never met an officer in any military that wasn't at least a bit of a prick. Need to be I guess to command men. That's why it's surprising for me to hear Red-Snow's an officer. Maybe not too surprising. You're a little like him, or at least you seem like you used to be. I can tell you used to be a more easy going person." Tacitus turned and looked at Maori, specifically his crotch. "Yup, just as I suspected, this Red-Snow character has got you all hard. Hmph. I used to be a whole person, physically and emotionally, not torn into pieces by people dying and torture. I'll never rest until very single one of those bastards are killed, and the ones that surrender will get the same punishment I got. Ya know, you aren't the first to help me on this trip. A Khajit, by the name of S'viir. He was crucified, his entrails spilled onto the road and vultures unleashed on his eyes. I hate them more for that than my hand, because at least I'm still alive," Tacitus' voice was venomous, his hatred causing veins to stick out in his neck. "Whatever, let's go talk to this general, let'em know I'm back. Not every day your High Admiral is returned," he said sarcastically. Despite the gruesome details of the khajiit's death, Maori cracked a smile from the hard on comment. He was a good friend who he hadn't seen in a while, so he was naturally excited to see just what he was up to. Maori felt for Tacitus, to be sure, but stories like his were all around. His anger was there, but it had been dulled over the years. Now he mostly fought the Thalmor out of habit more than anything else. Tacitus' freshly kindled severe hate brought back many of the memories in Skyrim as well, with the death of his sister. Tacitus rode his horse up the the general, pulling beside the man. He had an aged face, with a salt and pepper goatee, while his hair was gray going on white. The most striking feature were his bright green eyes, lively things that looked years young than the man that wore them. "Hello?" Gracchus asked the man, somewhat shocked to see such a raggedy person riding a horse. "Didn't figure you'd recognize me, I'm High Admiral Tacitus Meridius, newly escaped from Thalmor custody. Heading back to the capital now," Tacitus said with a reassuring smile, but his overall appearance and lack of teeth only made it slightly creepy. "Is this some kind of joke, sir?" Gracchus asked sternly, his brow furrowing with annoyance. "Take a look," Tacitus handed the general a slip of paper, signed by Geberal Flaccus, identifying Tacitus as who he said he was. Maori felt quite out of place among the Cyrodiils, but he felt it even more so around this new general, whose attire was more ornamented than the last one, and bearing a black cape with the red drake insignia of the Legion on it. But even so, he spoke up to help Tacitus out. "It's true. He was captured by Thalmor. A few of my buddies and I helped him escape, but they didn't make it. We just came out of Valenwood." The Imperial stamp gracing the letter, along with Flaccus' easily recognizable child-like scrawl and profanity laden content all meant it checked out. "I'm General Gracchus Ceno, of the Sixth Legion. We were actually heading over to that inn to stay for the night, and you two are welcome to join us. Smells like you guys could use a bath. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Gracchus asked Maori with a friendly smile. The smile and lack of suspicion threw him off, especially after the rumors of elf mistreatment from the Empire. Recovering from the surprise of his lack of dickery, he said, "I'm Maori of the wilds of Silvenar. Good to meet you. I've got a bit of information I can give your people and the Nords on troop movement and what forces they have." "Ah, a pleasure to meet you," Gracchus said, continuing to smile, "I'll get you to write those down when we get to the inn." Tacitus watched the general, surprised at the lack of prickness most generals exhibited. He seemed genuinely nice. "What, no questions first, no shackles, no suspicion of me being a spy? Not even going to berate me for being an elf?" said Maori, being suspicious of his politeness. "I had my suspicion, at first, but seeing Admiral Meridius' sword, and the letter you two brought erased those. No one can replicate Tyrellius' gods-awful handwriting, and even the best Thalmor spies couldn't replicate his sailor like mouth, no offense Admiral. Plus, while I don't buy your story, Tacitus fits the description of the Admiral that I heard. But, if you are spies, don't think we won't find out," Gracchus said the last part menacingly, his smiling dropping to show how serious he was. "But a missing hand doesn't seem to fit the description, so I'm guessing the Thalmor did that. I'm sorry, they are truly vile beings," Gracchus told Tacitus, dismounting as they reached the inn. "Nothing you could've done. They'll get there's, from me and the gods," Tacitus said simply, his face stern and hard set. Maori said, "Hmph, you should be glad I'm not a spy. I was able to fool even the Thalmor, and they're experts at that sort of thing. I know how they work. I plan on working as a spy during the war as well. I need some info myself by the way. I need to be filled in on a few things that happened with this alliance. But we can save that talk for later. Right now...I need meat." "I'll tell you what I'm able to. After the you," Gracchus said, holding the door open for the man and mer. The tavern was fairly nice, it being on the upper tier of city inns. "A little fancy for us, eh Maori? I sorta miss the bug infested ground and mile high trees," Tacitus said sarcastically. "Yea, I agree. I always get a little antsy indoors when I can't feel soil beneath my feet," Maori said, dead seriously, not noticing Tacitus' sarcasm. "Not as fun or efficient walking on flat ground, but at least we get to eat again!" Maori raced inside and took a seat at the first table available, taking in the scene of everyone inside, and the smell of old booze on the ground. It was much quieter compared to Nord inns and taverns, that was for sure. And the smell of their drinks was so different from that of Valenwood's, which smelled more like meat gravy, grease and fat than any liquor. But that was because it was. Or rather, it was both, since they didn't use plants for such things. Gracchus sat across from Maori, with Tacitus joining the Bosmer. Gracchus called a waitress over, and asked for a bottle of wine. Cheap wind, but better than anything the admiral as his friend had had. "So, what is it you want to know about Skyrim? I can't tell you everything, but I will tell you what I can," Gracchus said, pouring himself a glass of wine from the bottle that had appeared almost instantly, the waitress moving quickly in serving a general, even if his friends were a but raggedy. "Just the basics. What's your relationship with them as far as this alliance goes, what happened in the war, that sort of thing. I have information, but I want to make sure that they will be fighting with you, so I won't waste a trip there giving them info I'll give you. And also if you know who a friend of mine is, named Red-Snow. The Thalmor Royal General is interested in him now all of a sudden, and I'd like to know why now." "Well, I can tell you I just saw Bal-General Red-Snow in Sentinel, when we both met with Governor Jeleen. I'm unsure of why the Thalmor would take interest in him. As for the alliance, it started as a product of Empress Dales approaching me with the idea of rebelling, put together by General Tullius. Red-Snow had tried to convince me during his brief incarceration, but I was a fool and did nothing. We moved, killing their colonel and trapping them between our armies as we attacked the walls. Then the rest was mop up, clearing them out of Helgen and Fort Neugrad. That about answer your questions?" Gracchus asked politely, but he was really not enjoying recounting the events. It seemed like everyone that recognized him wanted to about the events in Skyrim. He was ready to just out it all behind him and move on. Tacitus listens to the story, this being the first tile he'd heard of the real meat of the Falkreath incident. Speaking of meat, the waitress brought out three plates of fresh ox-steak, pink in the middle and filled with more juices than a fruit. Maori attacked the meat as soon as it hit the table in a blind savage swirl of biting and tearing at the steak. His mouth salivated so hard at first, that his mouth ached from the sudden onset. Before talking, he licked the plate clean, then let the food settle for a while before he spoke. Maori finally spoke up, and got Gracchus to give him more specific's being interested in his friend's adventures while he was gone, and eventually was told about the avalanche, the siege, the militia, even about Lorgar, the Witchie character, and etc etc. "Wow, that all's...wow." I can't believe it, that girly bard turned out to be something after all. And MARRIED! I can't believe it... "Thank you for humoring me, I'm sure you can understand my interest. It makes sense now why the Thalmor guy's interested, but it's nothing you'd be concerned about."In fact, knowing this, I think it's a bit insulting. This Corio let their Admiral go just to deliver a message. Either he's over confident, or he meant it to be an insult, or both."Anyway, knowing all that, I can safely assure that I'll be utilized during the war to my full capabilities, since I have friends in high places in Cyrodiil and Skyrim. So knowing that, what would you like to know first? I have knowledge of troops being used, some naval info, albeit limited, and some knowledge of troop stations, but most of it is expected. They're pulling all the tricks out for this war though." Gracchus was more careful with his steak, eating it slowly bit by bit, and actually utilizing his utensils. He was appalled at the savagery in which both Tacitus and Maori attacked their steaks, but it wasn't surprising given their previous circumstances. "Tell me everything. I want to know all that you know about their troops, moral, stations, movements, armament, navy, everything you can possibly think of. Also, I want you to write it all down as well, so I have a copy in case of start to forge anything," Gracchus pulled out a parchment and quill and ink, sliding it across the table to Maori. This elf and his info may be my ticket to the High Generalship, if my previous deeds and Baldur's letter doesn't convince Skjari and Dales. Maori looked down at the parchment, then to his greasy hands, then back to Gracchus, then said, "Uh, I...can't write, actually. Never needed to. You'll have to write it as I speak." "Oh, of course. Probably better this way, I have trouble reading others hand writing and your hands appear to be quite greasy, which would only smear the ink," Gracchus pulled the paper and inkwell and quill back, dabbing the quill on his tongue before dipping it in the ink, and scrawling Maori Report at the top. "Alright, let's get this going. So, everything you know, and please don't go too quickly." "Alright, first troops. As you know, the Thalmor soldiers serve as their elite specialized forces, and they're all lead by their Justiciars. The Dominion forces makes up the brunt of the force, which is mainly Altmer, and it has a minority of Bosmer now, bigger than what was available last time in the war. Unlike last time, they've now incorporated some Cathey-Raht and Pahmar-Raht as shock troopers in the dominion forces, although most of those are still reserved for Khajiit forces in Elsweyr. I'm sure you're aware of the Altmer using goblin slaves before? They've brought those back now as well, unlike in the first war. They'll likely be using those for fodder, and to harass you at night. Their goblins also have these weird lizard mounts, but I forgot their names. Morale's pretty damn high among the Thalmor themselves, but the Dominion soldiers are as you would expect. Some of them, maybe most of them either support or accept that the Thalmor are their masters, and have mostly accepted what they say, but not all of them. They'll fight for them all the same however, so don't expect any rebellions. Even if they don't believe what the Thalmor do, a lot of them are glad for what they've done for the elven position of power in Tamriel over man. But almost everyone's still dreading the next war, since most of them are expecting this one to be on Valenwood and Elsweyr ground mostly. As for positions, as you can expect, they're highly fortified on the Valenwood border, but like you, they've also lined it with many magical traps in large fields. You'll need your battlemages to clear them as you advance. They also uncovered these massive glowing stones from secret underwater Ayleid cities, two of them at least, and I think they're using them to work as giant automated magic attacking devices. I have no idea how to disarm those, but if they're as powerful as I've heard in legend, you're going to want to find a way before your men advance. And the word from the navy is they have some kind of holy weapon that will ensure they win the naval battle if you invade. Some kind of magic bird? But I wasn't able to get more on that, sorry. Armament's what you'd expect. Elven light armor for Thalmor soldiers, and light leather armor for Dominion forces, but they spent a lot of coin enchanting the arrows and weapons of those who are guarding that fortified line to Valenwood. And the khajiit are getting in on this from Elsweyr as well, so expect to have to deal with them as well. Any questions?" "They've got a F****** SUNBIRD?!" Tacitus yelled out, nearly choking on his food as he did. Several patrons looked at the table with contempt, as this was not an establishment where people like Tacitus frequented. "Erhm, sorry, but I'd heard legend of such things, and attributed to sailor talk, but if they're real than that'll be a problem. A huge problem." Gracchus watched the outburst, somewhat embarrassed by his companion, but didn't show it, and didn't say anything about it. He had had to write quickly, but he got all of what Maori said. "Yes, I have some questions. Firstly, how defended are their cities? Same with the Khajit cities. Secondly, what about the Elsweyr-Valenwood border? What are its defenses like? Lastly, who is the High General, so to speak?" "I can answer that one. It'd be General Corio, the fella that did this," Tacitus held up his stump, showing the scar from the Nordic axe where his wrist should be. "Right, that's him. He and Bal- uh...High General Red-Snow...wow, that'll take some time getting used to. Anyway, they had history. This Corio, I don't know a great deal about him besides that he's the one responsible for the operation that got Valenwood for the Dominion in the first place. He was a failure when we met him in Skyrim, so I don't know how or why he's the Royal General now. As for Elsweyr defenses, they're obviously fortified pretty good at the border, since that's where their cities lie, but I haven't been able to get past the Valenwood forces stationed near the border to learn more about the khajiit. The cities of Valenwood are as you would expect as well. The closer they are to the border, the more fortified they are. Ships make up the difference near the south. They consider it a flawless defense. The capital Falenesti's almost as fortified as the Valenwood Cyrodiil border. Expect magic traps on the beach as well. And of course the other giant crystal shooting thing." "Sounds like they've planned accordingly. Which they were expected to do, no one ever touted the Thalmor as unintelligent no matter how much we hate them. What about weaknesses, are there any holes we can exploit in their defense, that you've seen?" Gracchus asked, his voice hopeful but not expecting much. "Sorry, I'm not a military man that could really spot anything out like that. At most, I could say that they're very confident in their defenses, so if they failed, maybe they'd be taken off guard. From what I can tell they don't expect it to hold you off, but kill a lot of men. And I mean a lot. And so far, it seems like that will be the case. You want to win, expect heavy losses again. Maybe worse than the last time." "That's what I hoped you wouldn't say. But, it was expected, so we'll just have to give it all we've got, and it may cost all that we've got too. Thank you, Maori, for all of the information. It'll be of great benefit, no doubt about it," Gracchus said kindly, although he didn't smile, the thought of all the lives they'd have to sacrifice depressing him. "Yea, at least you won't be going in blind. So there's that. Now you'll know what to expect, and you can at least counter the magic trap fields. I have to go to Skyrim and tell them the same thing now too. But I'll stick around with Tacitus for a bit to the Imperial City before I head off." "Well, if you two are done trading information, I'm going to go take a bath," Tacitus said, rising and wiping his greasy hands on his pants. "I advise you do the same Maori, we smell like a**." "I'll go get us our rooms, and you two can go to the bath house next door," Gracchus said, walking over to the counter area. The elf saw a pretty Bosmer girl not far from their table, chit chatting with a Dunmer and some Imperial women, who held their noses and were laughing at him. Maori looked confused, then took a whiff of himself under his arms. Is it really that bad? No one ever complained before. "Yea, I can't wait. I hate when I smell bad. I'm usually as rosy as a flower, but I was out FIGHTING THALMOR," he said at the laughing Bosmer girl to shut her and her friends up. Standing from the table, he said, "Let's get out of here, then." "Shut up Maori," Tacitus said, slapping his companion on the shoulder and pushing him out the door. Maori wasn't really looking forward to the bath. He felt best when he had a layer of earth on his skin. It felt more rugged, rough. Less vulnerable. But he supposed if he went any longer like this, he'd start growing trees. The bathhouse was attached to the inn's building, and looked like a second door to the side of it. Upon entering, he saw a large rectangle area with a pool built in to the stone, and a roof area surrounding it held up by stone columns. The area above the pool didn't have a roof, allowing one to see the skies. A natural spring fed the pool, which was heated via enchanted stones. Tacitus dropped his clothes, wading right in. The warm water soothed Tacitus' aching joints, and he sank down into the water, dunking his head under to wet his mangy hair. "Feels good, eh Maori? Like a new man, haha," Tacitus scrubbed himself with a bar of soap, the layers of dirt and mud giving way under the soap's assault. His hair was trickier, as it was caked with leaves and twigs and such. Pulling the sticks pulled his hair with it, so it was a painful process. "Gods damned, place Valenwood, it's still trying to kill me even when I'm miles away." Maori dropped his bow and arrows, and all the daggers on his person, and his mask that he had on his belt while he wasn't wearing it, since he didn't need one in Cyrodiil. He let out his red-orange mohawk and undid the ponytail before he finally jumped in. He didn't know just how dirty and sore he was from traveling and living on the move constantly until all of the dirt melted off around him and the soreness melted off as well. Tacitus' answer was given by way of a long sigh as the elf slowly sunk under the water until bubbles from his mouth rose, then died away as he sank deeper. When he finally popped up, he said, "Not bad, I admit it. Not bad. So when we get to the Imperial City, what do you think they'll say? Think they'll reinstate you? I mean, you're not dead, so you're still the High Admiral." "Who knows. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. Probably think I'm a sleeper agent or something, or just a regular old spy. I'd be wary to reinstate me, but honestly I don't think there are a lot of other options besides me. But, I am still the High Admiral, so even if I'm not reinstated I'll probably be offered another job," Tacitus was still running his fingers through his long hair, which had regrown after the Thalmor cut it off. It was shaggy, but not the past shoulder length from before his capture. He wished it was, as he'd always liked his hair long. "If not, I can put in a good word for you elsewhere up North. Not every day you get an experienced ex High Admiral for your navy. But if the good word of that Gracchus man doesn't get you your job back, on top of the intel I brought, then **** this place. I'm going to help you out with that in any way I can. I know what it's like wanting the means for revenge, but having that means taken away from you." "Thanks for the offer, and who knows, I may have to take it up. I wouldn't count on it though, as I doubt they would take my job away from me for surging. But then again, politicians aren't my strong suit, and I wouldn't want them to be. A bunch of spineless cowards politicians, only good for screwing things up so we can fix them again." Just then, the door opened and in walked Gracchus, who'd changed out of his fancy general's armor and into a pair of brown trousers and a blue shirt, which he began taking off upon entering. Tacitus was surprised at the physicality of the man, who was more muscular than one would expect from an again general. Gracchus waded in, sinking down under the water before surfacing and taking a seat on a submerged bench. "This feels wonderful. Would you believe in Hammerfell they actually cool of the bathhouses because it's so hot? I prefer my water nice and warm, thank you," Gracchus said chuckling a little. Maori looked at the two Imperials relaxing and looked at himself, in a bathhouse with two humans. It was certainly something unexpected, but not just because it was in a bathhouse, and he of all people was there, with his mohawk and savage looking tattoos of nightmarish monsters on his face. But because of the strong contrast just over the border of the dominion. The Thalmor, and perhaps the gods themselves see it fit to pit man versus mer in an endless struggle. Yet here he was, helping humans and befriending them. That in it of itself was already a victory easily gained, even if the war wasn't. The thought made him smile in defiance as he closed his eyes and laid back in the pool, knowing the Thalmor would hate the sight if they could see.

Maggie, Karsh West Weald Early morning A layer of frost blanketed the countryside, but on a terrace overlooking the heath, a woman stood before an easel dressed in nothing but a black silk dressing gown and slippers. She was apparently heedless of the cold. Behind her, smoke rose from the chimney of a large, Nordic style hunting lodge. The painting on her easel wasn't of the countryside before her, though it was a landscape. In the foreground of the painting were tall, craggy mountains, snow-riven and forbidding. In the right-hand corner of the painting was the Imperial City, small and frail in comparison to the mountains, and beyond that the colors turned a dark swirl of green, purple and black, a void. The woman, Magdela Bathory, dabbed at the blackness a bit, then stood back to inspect her work, and sighed in frustration. As she inspected the painting, with her keen hearing she heard the soft sound of wings by a bird flying towards her. Before she could however make out where the bird came from the black bird had already landed on top of her painting, starring at her with a tilted head for a small moment before raising one wing like it was greeting her. Maggie looked up, brush in midair, and smiled at the bird. "Well aren't you a clever little fellow. And bold, as well. Here to beg, are you? I don't suppose you're an art critic." The raven looked down on the painting he was standing on, examined it for a couple of seconds and then looked up at Maggie again and shook his head. Momentarily startled that the bird actually understood her question, Maggie laughed and gestured toward the cottage. "Come to the door, then, and I'll see if I can nick some toast from my guards' breakfast. It's too cold to paint anyway. The pigment keeps drying out." The bird jumped off the painting and flew to the cottage where he landed next to the door, looking back at her as if waiting for her to open it. Maggie left the terrace door open as she went inside and found her nightblades at their breakfast. The smoke from the chimney was from their fire, and they had not only toast with butter and jam but sausages, ham and fried eggs at the little kitchen table. "My lady, sit," one of them said, jumping up. It was a surprise for them to see her wanting breakfast. The mistress fed herself at night, typically, and from a different larder than their own. "No, no, it's not for me. We have a visitor." Maggie picked up a piece of buttered toast and returned to the door, ignoring the strange looks from her guards as she held it out for the bird to take. The raven took the toast and started tearing off pieces that he ate greedily. And very soon the the food was gone. "Hungry, are you?" Maggie returned to the table and took another piece of toast, returning to give it to the raven. Her guards exchanged glances but said nothing. They were accustomed to stranger things than this. As greedily but not really as viciously he ate up that toast as well. Then when looking back the guards that were almost staring at him, he stuck out his tongue at them. Laughing, Maggie said, "Now sir raven, be nice. They are giving up part of their breakfast. But I say, you still look hungry. Would you rather come in and have your own plate?" She glanced back at the guards. "You don't mind, do you, lads. I suspect this clever boy once belonged to someone. Nikol, go fetch my painting supplies from the terrace and take them into the parlor, will you. I'm going up to get dressed." She left the raven's care to the put-upon guards, except for Nikol, who set about his assignment. The others, after some hesitating and whispers, stacked books up on Nikol's chair and set out a plate of food for the raven. They all knew better than to grumble out loud. One didn't just retire gently from Bathory service. Not intact, anyway. With a few flaps the raven had flown up on top of the books and started eating from the plate while giving the guards equally suspicious glances back at them as they gave him. Despite her friendliness, the woman appeared to have forgotten all about her "houseguest," returning downstairs and going to the parlor where her painting had been set up again by the window. In fact her manner was more strained than usual, and distracted, her friendliness more from habit than any true feeling. The guards, meanwhile, watched the raven wolf down food like a grown man. "There's nothing left!" one of them exclaimed finally, when the bird seemed to expect more. Only then did Maggie return to the kitchen. She was dressed in riding clothes, still finely tailored though nothing fancy. "Still here, hungry magpie? I suppose you should come through to the parlor then. You can't stay here permanently, as I won't be here long myself and the cottage will soon be empty, but I could do with some company." The lodge was decorated with the stuffed kills of generations of Bathory relatives, including a stuffed hawk, though no ravens. On the mantelpiece sat the dragon statue from Skjari's office, head high as if presiding over all the others even though it was smaller. Maggie returned to her easel and began to putter with tubes of paint. The raven quickly nicked a small remaining slice of meat from one of the guards plate and flew away from the table before any of them could react. He landed on Maggie's shoulder and gulped the meat down. She then heard in ear closest to where the raven sat, "You're not easy to find. But thanks for the food." Starting, Maggie dropped the paintbrush, streaking the hardwood paneled floor with sky blue. It wasn't easy to surprise her. "I... Did you just..." She stared at the bird on her shoulder, unsure if the stress and loneliness of the previous weeks and her self-imposed exile were playing tricks on her mind. It wasn't easy to feed out here in the countryside, as the faint glow in her eyes attested. The raven gave up a short croaking that gave the impression of laughter. "I believe I just did." Maggie paused. "You were looking for me? For what purpose? I gather if you were a Thalmor bird, you'd have already pecked my eyes out. Tried to, anyway." "You'd probably just shoot lightning at me if I had tried that. I'm here because boss told me to check if you're still alive." "Who is boss? I am alive, as you can see." Undead, technically, but the term was so morbid. "Big fella from the north. Black hair. You know him." "Skjari?" Maggie's smile returned. "By the divines, he's trained a real live..." She stopped, and mumbled a spell to check. "Yes, you are alive, not a spirit or mechanical. I shouldn't wonder, with all the food you put away. Remarkable! How is our emperor-to-be?" "On his way south to Leyawiin when I left him. And Bravil's got a lot fewer skooma dealers. Pity he didn't stay for the executions, I really wanted to feast on some tasty eyeballs." "Don't worry, war is coming and that should give you plenty of those to feast upon. So Skjari is attending to the south. I am glad to hear it. It was kind of him to send you all this way to look in on me. How did you find me?" "First I went to Skingrad, didn't find you. Flew around the city but still didn't find you. Then I found a drunk guard that told me a little about the Bathory family estates. He then went on mumbling about quitting the bottle because of hallucinating talking birds." Maggie laughed and bent over to retrieve her brush, a delicate affair with a raven perched on her shoulder. Returning it to the palette, she said, "I was called to Skingrad, but I didn't go. I'm a writer, you see, not a painter, but the writing isn't going very well. I came here to try to finish my book, before..." Her words trailed off. Changing the subject, she turned and gestured at the dragon on the mantelpiece, addressing it. "Malyolkril! Wake up and greet your comrade." The little dragon shuddered, its gem eyes opened, and its head turned to look. The statuette then belched fire with a sound of disgust. A bird, not even another dragon. Smiling, Maggie said to Karsh, "Another of Skjari's pets. I couldn't part with it when I left the city." "I think I've seen it before. Got a more closeup introduction with his big brother though. I just wanted to look a little closer at what it was guarding and next thing I know I'm pinned to the ground with it's stone jaws wrapped around my neck. This one doesn't seem to be more friendly towards me." "It's a dragon, or a figure of one. They're prickly. And how shall I address you?" "Boss named me Karsh. And that's what I'm usually called by people who know me. Those who don't usually just call me a thief. You said you were writing a book?" "Karsh." Maggie reached up a hand and brushed a finger over the raven's feathers. "I'm supposed to be. My last work." She paused before adding, "For a while. I feel I owe to certain persons the immortality of literature, a kind of immortality only achievable by extreme magical means... But forgive me, you aren't likely a literary critic, either. I'll bore you with such talk. I should offer you a better gift for your services than just a country breakfast. What sort of reward would suit you?" "A shiny." "Something shiny? Like a piece of jewelry? I don't have my whole collection with me, but we ought to find you something suitable." Maggie walked up the short stairs, the raven still on her shoulder, to her room. She picked up a jewelry box from the dressing table and opened it, ruffling through the delicate gold chains and gem-crusted earrings. "See anything you like? Are you just going to hide this away in some nest of yours, or do you have a mate you'll bring it to?" "To my hideaway. My line of work doesn't really allow for mating. Got a few friends back in the tower city though, but they would just steal it from me as I steal from them. It's raven game." "I see. Well take this, then. It ought to be unique enough." She selected a gold and ruby bracelet formed from cunningly entwined thin strands into the body of a snake, the head biting its tail at the clasp. "It is Saxhleel make, very rare nowadays." One of the guards called up from downstairs. "My lady, you have another visitor." Maggie's expression went sober. She might have grown pale, except that her enchantments always kept up a healthy, rosy glow to her skin. The raven's visit may have been serendipitous, but this likely was not. "Very well, I'll be right down," she called back. "You will have to excuse me, Karsh. This is probably important." Karsh didn't really care about market value or rarity, all he cared about was that it was shiny. But he didn't really care about choosing and just jumped off her shoulder and to the jewelry box and picked up a small emerald encrusted ring instead and hid it under the chest feathers. Maggie had gone down the stairs while he hid the ring so he hopped over to the staircase to get a good look at downstairs, spying was what he was trained for after all. At the door was a young girl, thin and frail looking with blonde hair. "My lady, your father sent me," she said, a fearful waver in her voice. "Leni. I expected he'd send Jem." "Your brother is missing, my lady." There was a silence, then Maggie said, "Very well. I must get my things. Come on, you should help me pack." As the two women ascended the stairs again, Leni started at sight of the bird. "Just a friend," Maggie said, as if this explanation covered everything. "Sir Karsh, it seems I must vacate earlier than I'd expected. Did you find something you like?" Karsh lifted his wings in a shrug and flew up on the table by the jewelry box and started to look for another little piece. Maggie couldn't see the emerald ring under his feathers and she didn't need to know. Caught up in her own thoughts, Maggie seemed entirely unconcerned about the state of her jewelry box. From her walk-in wardrobe, she called out, "How is Mother?" "Countess Anna is well, milady. As well as usual." "Which is to say, not very." "Count Darius hasn't told her about Lord Janus. Said it would upset her. I think he means you to find him, milady. That, and he wants to talk about the empress and such." "Of course. Though I don't know the latest." "You're not living in the palace any longer, milady?" "No." Leni began folding the dresses that Maggie was throwing out on the bed. "They say we'll have a new emperor soon. The court wizard is marrying the empress. Wasn't he...?" "Yes. Was." Maggie appeared from the wardrobe again and walked over to the nightstand where Karsh was ruffling through the jewelry. "What do you know of the empress, my greedy little friend?" Karsh looked up from the jewelry box and waved with one wing for her to get closer. Maggie leaned down, while the servant watched them with surreptitious glances. He stretched his neck so his beak got close to her ear. "Always hold your ear next to me if you want to hear me speak, I'm a bit tired of having to wave people closer. Anyway, I know that she's short, blonde and doesn't really like ravens." "I was thinking more of how she fares now, since the assassination attempts and with the upcoming wedding. Do you know any of it?" "She's a lot more stiff. You didn't hear this from me but as boss put it: 'She got a stick up her ass.' And I don't know much about the wedding, only that boss traveled south to get it approved by the council. Does this mean it has been approved?" "I see. Well, Dales could do with being a bit stiff, at least in public. I haven't heard of any major opposition to the marriage, except Cheydinhal, who won't shut up." Brushing at the bird's wing with her finger, she turned back to Leni, who was now studiously avoiding watching the two converse. Walking over to the bed, Maggie began stuffing some of the folded clothes into her valise. She kept talking as if she had been talking to the servant all along. "I've done all I can for Lord Skjari now. Once the threat from Jon Hard-Heart was lifted and I knew the Council would give him a hearing, the best I could do was withdraw from the palace. Now we must all see what sort of emperor he will make." "Yes, milady," Leni murmured. She wouldn't express an opinion even if she had one. Maggie returned to the wardrobe. Half to herself, she continued talking. "I've considered the prospect that he is a spirit of Pelinal, you know. Perhaps called forth after the Oblivion Crisis by the scheming of that doomed Priory near here, the one the Thalmor raided even though it was only full of old people and ghosts. But there is more caution in Skjari and less zeal." A pause, as more clothes flew out onto the bed. "No, his gifts and his weaknesses are of the Nords, not of the divines. Recapitulating wars of the Dawn, but forgetting why they do so. He is only left with the hatred of elves and nothing more. Not that we imperials remember ourselves, either. Perhaps the only honest ones left in Tamriel are the Thalmor. And for that, they might win." The servant girl was only half listening. Being Anna Bathory's favorite chamber maid, she got a lot of practice at tuning out nonsensical talk. Absently she said, "They say it was the Thalmor behind the attack on poor Lady Fidenas' estate. Maybe she'll see you, milady. She won't see no one else but one or two maids." Poking her head out of the wardrobe, Maggie said, "Jocasta? What are you talking about?" She hadn't seen her acquaintance since Dales' coronation, and didn't relish the thought. At the coronation party, Maggie had convinced Jocasta that the new empress would look out for the Nibeneans' interests, but that was political talk, mostly empty. "Oh, you wouldn't have heard, I'm sorry, milady. There was an attack on Lady Fidenas' estate. Some Khajiit bandits or terrorists or something, killed most of the family." Leni glanced at the raven before adding, "Lady Jocasta escaped and your father gave her refuge in the castle. The servants say... the cats, they..." The girl stopped short. "Raped her. I see. Poor Jocasta. It seems Skjari's trip south was none too soon." Maggie came out slowly, considering all of this. Her eyes fell on the mess of clothes on the bed. "This is a waste of time. I'll not need any of this. It's likely I'll not need anything at all. Leni, shut the valise and let's go. Leave the rest." Turning to Karsh, she came back and leaned down to him as she'd been instructed. "I must leave now, Sir Karsh. You'll have traveled long to find me, I expect, so you'll want a rest before you return to 'boss' in the south. I'll instruct a nightblade to stay behind and feed you whatever you want. Is that satisfactory?" "What's going on?" Karsh sounded quite curious. "I'm being summoned to return home. It was inevitable. I'm surprised he let me alone this long. My father keeps a tight leash on all our family." "And what was that rambling about Pelinal and wars and Thalmor about?" "Oh, nothing. I've been by myself for weeks now and am prone to chatter. All I know about the Thalmor is that they appear to be too busy at the moment to bother with me. No doubt Skjari's doing, and that handsome admiral who's gone missing, poor soul. I hope he got my package." Straightening, Maggie went on, "If Jem has gone missing, no doubt Father thinks we're together conspiring. Ironic. Lord Janus is not here, Leni, in case you were wondering." "Of course, milady. I'm ready." The thin girl was struggling to pick up Maggie's case, so the countess called up her nightblade guards and gave them quick instructions to bring her things to Skingrad Castle, with one of them staying behind to care for Karsh and lock the cottage up after he had gone. After the servants had left, Maggie turned back to look at the raven. "Try to leave at least one or two pieces from that jewelry box behind for me. For luck. And tell your boss... tell him that I miss him." Karsh waved her down so he could speak with her. "Sure, I'll tell him. And who's this Janus? And what conspiring?" She listened, then straightened again and sighed. "He is my brother. Be glad that you weren't sent to find him. He'd have invited you to stay to supper, as the main course. I'm sure it's nothing. He's gone off whoring without permission, no doubt." Karsh jumped down from the table and towards the stairs, looked back at Maggie one more time and just gave her a quick nod, then looked down the stairs and saw one the nightblade guards, an average looking female imperial with shoulder long brown hair tied up in a ponytail at the back of her head. He flew down the stair and straight to the guard and landed on her shoulder. "Now you are going to do exactly as I say. Miss Bathory says so. Now go up and fluff up the pillows, then go down and roast and slice some tender meat, then you shall bring me the meat on a plate and feed me the meat piece by piece while I relax on the pillows. Got it?" The guard looked from the bird to Maggie and back. "My lady, am I to...?" "Yes, yes. It's a magical bird, some accommodation must be made." Maggie hadn't heard what the raven demanded, but cared neither about that nor what the nightblade thought of it. There were more important matters on her mind, and far worse duties that she had asked of nightblades before. She took a last, regretful look at the stacked manuscript on the desk before turning and resolutely leaving it behind.

Theodore Adrard Daggerfall Morning Several braziers sent their flickering light to all corners of Theodore's room, but despite the numerous fires it was still dark. A few candles on his desk focused the brightness on his parchment. A jar of tar black ink sat nearby, while the pheasant feather quill's colors shone brilliantly, even in the subdued light of of the fires. Theo massaged his temple with his left hand, the massage stopping once he had a a decent layout in mind for his letter. The quill danced across the page, scratching out a letter addressed to none other than the Empress Dales and her husband-to-be, the court mage Skjari. Finally setting the quill down, Theodore took the parchment in between two sets of sausage like, pudgy fingers. He quickly reviewed it, and decided it was to his liking. It read: Dear Empress Dales, How go things back in the Imperial capital? I have good news from High Rock, and also some sad news. Unfortunately, my wife's father passed away, and my wife's sister's husband took the throne. He then attempted to assassinate me, with poison, and a hearing found him guilty. I was forced to execute him, but now I've take the throne. It seems all will not end well, however. My wife's sister escaped, and is probably recruiting the noble families loyal to her, with a plan to put her on the throne. I've called my allies, and we will soon depart to crush this rebellion, and hopefully unite High Rock not only under my rule, but under the Empire's as well. It is because of that point I ask you permission to utilize the Imperial troops stationed here. Though they aren't numerous, their professional and orderly manner of conducting war will be essential to turning the tide. I've heard a few troubling things from Cyrodiil, most notably the execution of General Tullius, in part because of a rebellion. A sad day, but I think you have a very capable replacement in General Ceno, or whoever you choose for that matter. I also heard you are due to be married to your court mage, and I congratulate you both and wish you a happy marriage. Please do not think that I am angry, or that I feel slighted by your not choosing my son. I understand the politics behind it, and know this to be the best and most reasonable choice. I wish you a happy marriage, and I hope that you can steer the Empire towards prosperous days. Please remember my request, and consider it with due diligence. I also would appreciate a quick reply, as I will send this with the utmost haste. Sincerely, King Theodore Adrard Theodore folded the letter, then stamped it with a wax seal, bearing the family crest, a black bull with flaming eyes, and underneath it the initials TA. The King of High Rock gave the letter to a courier, who had waited patiently outside the room. "Get this to the Imperial City as quickly as possible," Theodore ordered the Breton courier. "Yes, your majesty," the courier said with a bow, before sprinting from the castle. Theodore smiled, the notion that he was now the king one worth grinning about. As he walked towards the town itself, he passed his mother conducting court business in the great hall. She sat on the throne, several lesser nobles seated at the table in front of her. As Theo walked through, he made out bits of the conversation, and it sounded like they were discussing how many men to send with Theodore when he left. The king didn't catch much of the conversation, as he and his entourage of guards exited the hall fairly quickly. Theodore had around ten men escorting him, along with several disguised as peasants dispersed in the town, all placed along his route. He took no chances, not wanting anything to ruin his plans, or his reign. Which is why he and Elayne had been trying again, hoping that more heirs meant a smaller chance of losing their foothold on the throne. The guarded king soon reached his destination, as the crowds quickly cleared to let their liege pass. It was the waterfront district, specifically Henry Leland's office. He entered the main warehouse area, where strong backed men lifted crates or rolled barrels, moving goods to and from ships. Across the bustling floor stood a staircase, which he ascended as quickly as a man of his stature could be expected to. Theo lightly rapped on the door, which bore an emblem of a cog at sea, along with a semi-circle of words saying Leland Shipping Co. A somewhat high pitched voice said "Enter," and the king obliged, strutting into the room. "Your majesty," the midget of a man said, bowing as he did. "Please, be seated. What brings you to my office on such a fine day?" Theodore, dressed in fine silken clothes, black and green and blue, sat before one of the only people in High Rock, let alone Daggerfall, that could command the utmost respect from the shrewd politician. "I've come with a proposition, friend. Don't bother with drinks either, I'm not in the mood," Theodore said, as his host had risen to bring over a platter of drinks, so Henry promptly sat down. "Ah, a proposition...this couldn't have anything to do with the recent execution, and the escaped former queen, could it?" Mr. Leland asked, stroking his triangular goatee with thumb and index finger. "I figured you'd heard. No surprise, you were always well informed. Yes, it does have something to do with that," Theodore said, rising as he did, and turning to look out the large window that overlooked the harbor. "How many ships do you have, here, with you?" Theodore asked, his smirk unseen by the businessman. Hmph, dramatics won't help you fat man, Henry thought, referencing the theatrical back turn. "Well, I have a fleet of forty ships, but only fifteen here, and of those ten are not in use. They were trading with the Alinor and Valenwood prior to the Falkreath Incident, but ever since then I have them occasionally sailing to minor ports, Jehanna, Taneth, and Dawnstar. Most just sit, because I can't over saturate the market with constant trading. Why do you ask, my liege?" Henry said, leaning back in his chair to loosen up a little. "Dawnstar and Taneth and Jehanna..." Theodore repeated, still looking over the port, while Henry just rolled his eyes at the melodramatic flair. "How would you like to sell me those vessels of yours?" "That's a pretty fair sum, even for a king, not that I'm saying you couldn't afford it, of course. It's just, that's would put a strain on anyone's coffers," Henry replied, eyebrows raised. Theodore returned to his seat, the smirk disappearing as he did, while Henry's eyebrows reset to their normal position. Shrewd man, Henry, and every bit a businessman as Nords are warriors. He still thinks I'm overly dramatic, but where's the fun in letting someone know the true you? Count Brutus thinks me an avid partier, General Ceno a fat drunk, Empress Dales a poor upstart. And Mr. Leland thinks me a a performer, a dramatist. None completely true, but also not completely false, Theodore thought, letting the slight frown on his face linger, so as to plant little seeds of doubt in Henry. "The cost in gold is exactly why I won't be offering you septims in return, but two things instead. The first, a chance for you to acquire not only land, but a title as well. I would bestow upon land near Wayrest, after I take care of a few things there. I'm sure that piques your interest, no? While it is not the extraordinarily grand city it once was, I have little doubt you could remedy that, given time," Theodore smiled after he finished speaking, his grin ever so pleasant and genuine, but of course neither thing could be believed to be true. Henry's face didn't change, except a single raised eyebrow when the king first mentioned the prospect of a title and land. I could do a lot near Wayrest. Land and a title would only increase my holdings, while the city itself has always been a trading hub, Henry thought, internally very interested but externally calm and cool. "And the second thing, your highness?" the Breton businessman said simply, betraying no emotion. "I would like to create a national bank, with you as the head. Of course, you'd still report to me, and their would be a council to assist you, but I hope this way we can consolidate all of our wealth into one single series of banks. Seeing as you have a history in banking and financial success, it is only obvious you have some say in the creation," Theodore said, smile still plastered on his face. It's usually me wearing the smile in these meetings, but of course I'm always in control of those meetings too. There's never any control with a man who could execute me for by given reason. Still, it's a sound proposition, one that I would be foolish to pass up on, Henry thought, still stroking his goatee. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to make that deal. Nothing personal, just business," Henry said, tapping his fingers on the desk, done with his beard petting. Theodore just shook his head, looking very disappointed. Nervous much? First the goatee, now the tapping. Or maybe he's just restless. Either way, it's time to end this. "I'm so very disappointed in you Henry, I thought you smarter than this. It looks like things will have to be done the hard way, it seems," Theodore solemnly said. What?! He won't kill me for this surely, it just haggling, business...no he's, just messing with me, that's all, no need to panic, Henry started a cold sweat, but he showed no signs of fear. Theodore called out "Guard," which cause a guard to enter at once with a small box. The king proceeded to open it once the guard left. Looking first at the box's contents, then at Henry, Theo said, "I expected more, frankly. And here I was hoping it would be simple." Henry stared hard at the box, wondering what was in it. A dagger? Poison? Some kind of torture device? No, he won't kill me, but I've heard rumors that he's ruthless, maybe even evil. What is it? Theodore looked inside the box once more, then closed it and spun the wooden container around to it faced Henry. "Why don't you open that up, and see if it changes your mind," the king said dryly. Henry opened it quickly, not sure what to anticipate. Inside sat several large jewels, the largest of them the size of a grape, much to the breton businessman's pleasant surprise. Just more theatrics, phew. Henry thought. "Ah, yes, I think that'll do nicely. You may have ten of the ships, while I get this lovely box of jewels, a title, and position as Head Banker. Works out nicely, I'd say," Mr. Leland said, now the proprietor of his trademark faux smile. "I should've expected you'd want the jewels from the start, you greedy business men are all the same. I'll have them gone by tomorrow, don't worry. Their captains will be given the choice to either quit or join my service. Either way, I have plenty of men to man them," Theodore said, rising to leave. "I'm afraid you never said why you needed them, your majesty," Henry said, rising as well. "That's right, I didn't. It doesn't need to be said either," Theodore said gruffly, much the way he did with merchants and businessmen, knowing better than to engage in salesmen talk. "My apologies, of course. I want aware it was a secret," Henry said, following Theo as he walked towards the door. "Speaking of secrets, I thought you'd like to know your missing queen contacted me. Via courier of course." "I'm assuming it wasn't to ask you about how your day had been," Theodore said, now stopped in front of the exit. "Uh, no sir. She wanted a loan. She didn't say what for." "Of course not, she isn't that stupid. Most likely to raise an army, or hire one. She'll find her efforts bear little fruit, however. No army large enough exists to resist what I have planned for her. Good day, Mr. Leland. Thank you for your ships," the King of High Rock said, leaving as he did. Henry wipe sweat from his brow the minute Theo was out of sight, then sank down into his plush desk chair. He couldn't ever pinpoint it, but something about that King Adrard through him off, knocked him off his game, and it frightened him more than anything in the world. Theodore smirked as he descended the stairs, addressing the nearest guard, "I so do love my job at times." The guard nodded, replying, "Me too sir." "Alright, enough chit chat. Off to Fort Sandwall on the morrow, so get some sleep boys," Theo commanded, so the men headed back to the castle. ** Fort Sandwall sat a few minutes north of Daggerfall by horse, just an intersection of two roads. It was fairly new, only half a century old or so, and housed a great deal of the Imperial garrison in High Rock. The fresh stone was a stark contrast to the old, dreary, weathered look of Daggerfall, and it's dragon banners flew proud atop four main towers. The royal entourage, consisting of a around a hundred or so troops, which is what Joselyn Gaerhart and her court had decided on, came to a stop outside the new fort. The ships Theo bought sailed ahead, maybe already docked at Camlorn. It wouldn't be long for Theo's troupe, but this stop would add time. Theo and several men approached the gate, while a sentry yelled down, "Who goes there?" "The King of High Rock!" a guard called out, causing the oak doors to swing open with a long creak. "Take me to your commander, please," Theo instructed another soldier, one who appeared to be a little higher ranking. "Yessir," the tribune said, leading the king an his men through a few passages before stopping in front of a simple wooden door. "The legates inside," the man said, before quickly leaving to resume whatever it is he was doing. Theodore knocked, deciding even as king he should extend someone the curtesy to allow him entrance. There was a slight pause, and then the muffled reply. "Come on in." Theodore's large hands gripped the doorknob and twisted it to the right, pushing as he did. The rusted iron hinges groaned like an old man, and the smell of finished oak and strong drink assaulted Theo's nostrils, which flared to take in the pleasant aromas, mixing to compliment each other nicely. "Legate," Theodore addressed the middle-aged soldier, who's black hair was short and close cropped, and a shadow of stubble covered his jaw. "Tidings." the man responded in a bored tone, eyes just coming up from a document on his desk. "What is the-..." He stopped as his eyes took in Theodore's wide frame. It seemed as though the Legate had been about to go into a typical greeting of his when speaking to privileged nobility. It was obvious by his tone that he had said the same words to countless lords and ladies, but the moment he realized who he was speaking to, things changed. "Forgive me, King Adrard." he glanced around the room, began to stand, then stopped himself, probably remembering that he was of the Legion, not High Rock. Still, it was clear that he was not prepared for this meeting. "Please, have a seat." "Don't fret, I haven't been king long enough to warrant such greetings yet," the king said with a laugh, patting his rotund belly before taking his seat. Theodore looked at the black haired Breton legionnaire, who looked obviously uncomfortable with the presence of the new King of High Rock. "I come with a request, Legate...I'm sorry, I don't know your name?" Theodore said apologetically, his eyes appearing completely sincere. The Legate relaxed a bit. "Reyderic Montrose," he answered, sounding more composed than before. "Ah yes, now I remember. And how go things here in High Rock for the legion?" Theodore asked, his smile relaxing so his face was simply calm, placid. "Heh, in all honesty it starts to feel more like leading a guild branch than a military one. We weren't given enough soldiers to garrison the forts we are under orders to man, and so we had to recruit a lot of the boys locally." Reyderic sighed. "Sometimes it almost feels like the folks down in the good old Heartland have forgotten that they even put us up here. We get more help and supplies from trading with locals than we do from Cyrodiil. ... Not that I'm complaining." he assured hurriedly. "It's hardly a difficult post. You people keep your own order well enough." Legate Reyderic smiled. "So that's my unofficial update, actually, I'll probably just write all that down, word-for-word, perhaps add a just a few little details, and make it my official report, and send it south." He chuckled. "How do you think Empress Motierre would feel about the Legion being run like a guild?" "Not sure how our young Empress would respond, I've met her personally and still she confounds me, but that may be a product of her age and the difference in how we think," Theodore rubbed the fine wooden chair he sat in, his fingers tracing over the grain as he spoke. "I hope you lot haven't gotten too complacent," Theo said with a chuckle, "because I just requisitioned your use from her majesty. We have some rebels forming, my sister-in-law's allies who purport that I took the throne...well, I'm not sure what they claim, seeing as I was the one nearly assassinated. But it really matters little, as I've already begun amassing my forces in preparation. I do not doubt the Empress will say yes to my request, but even so I wanted to gather your thoughts on the matter." The Legate looked perplexed. "You're going to war? Like in Skyrim? That explains the troop movements, then. We recently wrote White Gold about that but have yet to see a response. We all assumed it was Dominion-related, that you were prepping them for going south." Reyderic took a moment to breath. "Sorry, this is... a lot to take in. So you're asking for Legion assistance against these rebels. So much for quiet post, eh? Well don't you worry, if the Empress gives the okay, my men will march with you." He paused again, but he did not look nervous or afraid. He just looked shocked. "... It's been a long time since most of these men have fought anything but bandits or the odd ogre, and some of the newer ones have very little experience beyond their training. I honesty hope your request is accepted. Most of them could benefit from seeing real battles before the next Great War." "I see it the same way. I'd rather have a fewer hardened veterans than numerous green boys, so this gives us good chance at real world training," Theodore flashed a quick smile, but his face soon turned back to stoic stone. "You should've seen the butt kissing I did in the letter. My nose came away browner than my mustache! I'm sure you've had to do the same, though, given your job. If you don't mind me asking, what're your number legate?" the king asked, head titled slightly to reflect his asking a question. "All together? We number at around five hundred men throughout the province. Like I said, they're mostly inexperienced, but still well-trained." "Well, I hope by the time this ends you'll have one of the finest fighting groups in all of Tamriel, sir. Both of our men will be well prepared once this conflict is over. I don't foresee it being easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but I've prepared appropriately and don't see it stretching out for very long," Theodore said in a commanding tone, but not like he was giving orders. It just suggested he was in charge, which he was being the king. "Well like I said, when the Empress gives the order, you have our support. I'll write a letter myself as well. Perhaps it will help your case." "I appreciate the thought, Legate. Well, I think I'll be off now, sir," Theodore said, easing out of his chair and rising. "It was good to meet you, your majesty. Here's hoping your reign works out better than Rolston's." Reyderic tapped a fist to his chest and nodded as a gesture of respect. "Something about you makes me think you will make a good king." "And you a great general, Reyderic," Theodore said, bowing his head slightly before leaving in a flourish of cape, the door shutting resoundly behind him.

Dales Moitre, Karsh the Raven, Afternoon, Imperial City, Dales groaned in discomfort, as she supported herself on a tree stump. Her cousin, Lizzie, was busy talking. Dales wasn't even paying attention. Admiral Tacticus's recent disappearance had troubled her greatly, and while not wanting to completely give up hope on finding him alive, Dales needed to find a suitable replacement for him. Which is why she had a problem of spending her afternoon in a garden, which was filled with obnoxious bureaucrats, and greedy noblemen. Dales popped a small olive into her mouth, as she said, "Lizzie, you should care more about the state of the military and navy, instead of the latest court gossip." "Hmmm?" The red headed imperial said, looking up to the sky. Dales sighed, as she face palmed herself, "Admiral Tacticus, the man in charge of the imperial navy, has vanished. Lost to the sea." Lizzie's eye brows raised, as she put on a smile, "Oh him? Daddy told me about this Tacticus. You should have expected it." "What do you mean?" "He's a peasant, I heard he was raised on a farm. You dont give people that low Dales, positions of such importance." Dales didn't respond, but put on a scowl. No one should be judged in terms of ability for there social class, it was a backwards way of thinking, unfortunantley ingrained in the upper class. She really wanted to punch Lizzie in the fact right now, but she decided against it. Suddenly she heard fluttering from closely behind and before she knew it, a black bird sat on her shoulder. "Hello, girl smaller than most other humans. You don't mind if you give me some of that food?" She heard in the ear on the side which the raven sat on Lizzie's eyes became blank as her hands started to tremble, "Dales...there's a-" "Come on, some of that meat would be nice." He pointed with one wing at a slice of meat at the blanket, totally ignoring the other humans. Dales raised her eyebrow, she gave a small grin, "Karsh? It's been too long." "So you do remember me? Good, now just so you know, I've flown for a long time without food or much rest. I'm starving!" The Imperial Empress, gave Lizzie a reassuring hand wave, "Dont worry, he's a pet to Lord Snow-Strider." She grabbed a little piece of meat, and offered it to the bird. Grabbing it with his beak he gulped it down rather quickly. "More." She gave him another piece the same size, He gulped it down all the same. "You know what, just keep feeding me till I stop eating." "Dont be greedy." She said calmly. "You're talking to the wrong kind of bird then." He said before eating up one piece after another, till almost all the meat was gone. "Now that your fattened up, how do you know i'm not going to bake myself a crow pie since your ate all of the meat?" "First of all: it's raven, not crow. Second: No pies, ever." "Crow, Raven. Your all the same to me, all you do is leech off dead bodies, or in you care, living people." Her mouth twisted into another grin, and her stone cold blue eyes scanned the bird. She spoke in a low whisper so Lizzie couldn't hear them, "What does master request of me?" "He wanted me to check in on you. Probably just to see how you are doing." She looked at the raven oddly, "Huh? No diabolic schemes? No order? Just to know how i'm doing?! That dosen't sound like him..." "Maybe to see if you're doing well or just to see if you're having the city collapse while he's gone. I didn't get of an explanation to why I check in on you." "Why dont you try to prevent a crumbling empire from going broke for a day? It's not as fun as it seems." She said dryly, she motioned to her cousin, "This buffoon is distracting me from my work. She insisted I spend time with her. How annoying.,. He looked at the other girl and tilted his head before returning his beak to Dales' ear. "So? Anyway, how is the situation?" "Same as always." "Ya sure?" "I'm sure." "Feels odd to just come here to you and have nothing real to report back. No crisis, no assassination attempts, no monsters under your bed?" "It's been quiet over here. Since master left." Well then. I'm taking a nap." He stretched out his wings, one wing hitting Dales in the face and jumped forward and drifted down slowly onto the blanket. Where he found a nice little spot and sat down. "GET THAT CROW AWAY FROM ME!!!" Lizzie said, flailing her arms in an unlady like fashion, while Dales sat there stoically. Lizzie backed away from the raven. Dales sighed, "Calm down, cousin. Besides, he's a raven" Karsh looked up at the almost hysterical woman and tilted his head, then shook it slightly as if disappointed and then resumed his attempt at a nap. "Excuse me Karsh, my older cousin seems to have a weak constitution. Can I offer you a nap on the royal pillow in the palace?" Karsh looked at Dales and waved with one wing for her to get closer. Dales complied, offering him her ear, "Is it a soft pillow?" "Very soft. And comfortable." "Give me your forearm, I need something to climb up to your shoulder with." She stretched her arm out to him. Karsh climbed up on her forearm and from there wandered up to her shoulder, having to bury his talons into her skin a little to not fall off during the climb. "Now off to the pillow!" He said and pointed with one wing right ahead. Dales didn't shudder at the slight pain, but gave the raven a dry look, "Do you seriously think i'm going to act as your pact mule because your lazy to fly a small distance to an open window?" "Big palace, many windows. I'm staying here on your shoulder for now then." "Your frightening my cousin with your presence, and it'll look strange for the imperial empress to be walking around with a raven on her shoulder ." "Bloody waste to climb up on your shoulder then. Which window?" Giving him a smirk she said, "The one on the top floor, the biggest, and too the far right of the building." "The building is round. Far right is quite a relative term in that sense. How about north, south, west and all those other directions a bird like me can make use of." "Just look for the window which has black curtains." "Okay." And he flew off towards the big tower, hoping he wouldn't have to circle around it too much. **** Fifteen minutes later, Dales and Lizzie decided to leave, due to the atmosphere apparently being ruined by the arrival of the "talking crow". Dales didn't really care, since the sooner they left, the sooner Dales could look for a temporary, or permanent depending on the situation , replacement for Admiral Tacticus. As they walked down the corridors of the imperial palace to Lizzie's room, the girl wouldn't shut up. They turned a corner, "And so, then Halela ran-" At the same time a servant, who was carrying a vase with a Spider Lilly, bumped into Lizzie, spilling the water all over the duchess's crimson dress. The servant, in the accident, dropped the vase onto the floor, causing it to shatter. By the yelp that came from the servant, she was likely injured, she fell TO the ground because the impact of hitting Lizzie. The servant was a girl, very young, most likely sixteen or seventeen at the most. She had long black hair, which was done in braids, a pair of glasses, and deep, blue eyes, which Dales swore she reconised from somewhere. Unfortunately, Lizzie was less then pleased with this turn of events. Her face became disorted with anger. The servant girl spoke in a quiet, yet apologetic voice, her eyes were tinged with tears, "I'm...sorry..." "Useless cur!!!" Lizzie stepped forward, and launched her hand in a slap straight towards the girls face. However, instead of colliding with the servant's face, her hand was stopped suddenly. Though small, the hand that stopped Lizzie's was incredibly firm, and tight. Empress Dales Moitre said, in a cold voice, as she tightened her iron grip, which caused discomfort to her cousin "That will be enough, Duchess." Lizzie's vision began to fill with tears, "Dales, i'm-" "That's your majesty to you." Though not rough, Dales didn't put an effort into pushing her gently away from the downed woman. Facing, her Dales told her, "I think you've been here long enough. Your father and mother are most likely worrying about you. You should leave first chance you get." Turning around, she didn't bother to see her leave, she knew she would. The sound of feet stomping off angrily confirmed the Empresses suspicions. Dales crouched down, and asked the downed girl, "Are you alright?" Still sniffling, the servant stretched out her left hand, revealing a jagged cut. Dales muttered somthing under he breath, as she reached out. The servant squealed, and moved to return her hand, but Dales soft touch stopped her from the maid withdrawing. "Dont worry, I wont hurt you." Dales mended the injury using a healing spell, to the surprise and wonder of the servant girl. Dales gave her a nod, before taking her hand away. The servant girl blushed slightly, as the empress left without another word. **** Opening his eyes he looked around the room. Karsh sat on the biggest pillow in the royal bed, big with red sheets with black and gold decorations of dragons and an imperial pattern of swirls and lines. The room itself had some nice furniture and but not much decoration. A couple of trinkets that looked to be from the Empire's glory days were spread around the room, but they were few. He got up and walked across the bed and the then used his wings to glide down to the floor. He walked up the door that was slightly open, but the opening was barely enough for him to squeeze through. He turned right and started walk down the corridor to see if he could find this big chested blonde woman. A few moments later a maid came walking through the corridor towards him. He gave a a quick wave with one wing and a croak and she just looked at him with wide eyes while she passed, eyes peeled at the raven walking in the palace. She kept walking while looking over her shoulder till she eventually bumped into another maid walking the opposite direction. Karsh turned around when he heard them collide and then fall to the floor, and started laughing at them and continued down the corridor, while still laughing for a few seconds. A knife , laced with Lapis Lazuli color, came flying forth straight towards Karsh's head. After another minute of walking a dagger suddenly came flying towards Karsh, the blade flew right above the raven's head and jumped out of shock before quickly hopping to hide behind the nearest vase. Who sent you." Said a voice, in a dead serious tone. The person who owned it was a rather, by human standards, attractive looking human, with long platinum blonde hair. She was clad in leather black armor, which looked similar to leather legionary armor, minus the color. She was readying another knife, and she spoke again. Her breasts were noticeably large, very large. "I aimed to miss the time before, I can detect your magical presence, Raven." While calm, her voice betrayed deep fury, "Did that bitch Homulilly send you to spy on me?!" Karsh peeked forth his head from behind the vase. Noticing the features that had been described to him, he first reluctantly stretched out his right wing and started waving slowly. Another dagger came flying, this time missing by a single centimeter. Karsh quickly retreated behind the vase again. Crazy woman. That brown haired woman in the north is nicer than this. He thought to himself before peaking forward again and gave up a small and almost quiet croak. "I wont ask you again." A flash of light erupted from her left hand, and came trailing towards Karsh. The shock mostly hit the vase as he pulled back the head but Karsh could still feel the electricity go through his beak. After a few seconds he decided to take a gamble and walked out from his hiding position behind the vase with both wings raised high in the air. "Good, I accept your surrender. Now who sent you. What are you doing in the Imperial Palace?" Her left hand was gloved, while her right wasn't. The right hand was glowing with magic, while she held a slim knife in her left. Karsh slowly walked forward towards the blonde woman and stopped a few feet from her, he then waved with one wing for her to get closer. "No. Answer, my question now. Speak. I know you can." Karsh just turned his wings and shrugged the best he could. In a burst of surprising speed, the woman rushed forward, and grabbed Karsh with her right hand. Karsh started croaking almost frantically as the woman's hand sealed around his neck. Then he calmed down and the croaking became less intense as he raised one wing and pointed to the side of her head. The hand tightened The croaking stopped but he still held out the now slightly shaking wing pointing towards the right side of her head. "This is your final chance before I turn you to ash" Karsh brought the wing back to his beak which opened and closed without any croaking coming out and then pointed to the side of Liily's head again. She moved him closer to her ear. A dampened and struggling voice filled her ear. "Loosen your grip." Her hand loosened slightly, "Even though your assumption that I can speak is correct, I can only speak directly into an ear." "Then speak. Who sent you?" "My boss. Big fella, black hair and beard, is from the north." "Lord Snow-Strider?" Her face grew slightly pale, but she didn't drop him, "Why did he send you?" "To check in on Dales and to give you a request for information." "What does he want?" "Can you let go of my neck and put me on your shoulder instead? It's hard having to hang like this." "I would rather talk to you like this." By her voice, you could tell she wasn't in the mood for negotiations. "He wants you to dig up information about the count of Cheydinhal's family. See how the family works and if there's any internal or external disputes. And to write your findings down on a small letter and only give it to me for delivery." "Get some dirt in other words?" "Probably just something he can work with. Now can you let go of my neck?" She threw him to the ground. Karsh tumbled around a for a feet before stopping and quickly getting back on his feet. He looked at Lilly and croaked angrily at her for couple of seconds before turning around walking down the corridor. Bloody animal mistreatment.

Aerin (BT), Vex, Boldir, Carlotta, Mila Riften Afternoon Aerin sighed, rubbing the bruise on his temple. It was superficial, but still pained him. He knocked on the door lightly, then crossed his arms unhappily. Several seconds passed by, and his annoyance only grew. Finally, the lock on the other side of the door could be heard opening, the the old oak swung open with a long creak. "Vex," he said rather pompously, showing no hint of love towards his sister. "May I come in, or do I have to steal from people to be allowed that courtesy?" Vex scowled, the dislike mutual, but nevertheless, she stepped back to allow him room to enter. "It's been a while Aerin." she said as he stepped through the doorframe. "You here to preach to me again?" her eyes went to his bruise, "Or do you just want a kiss on the head to make you feel better?" "Can it. I'm not here to preach, I'm here to tell you to call off the dogs. I got mugged in the street last night, almost stabbed! We may not like each other, but the least you could do is tell your 'friends' to leave me the hell alone!" Aerin was furious, his cheeks flushing and temper rising. He disliked the Thieves Guild, but his sister had other feelings, which led to their mutual dislike for each other. "These 'dogs' aren't mine. I don't own them, and they mostly do as they please." Vex was largely indifferent to Aerin's sufferings, but it did slightly annoy her that he believed she was responsible, as if she'd give him the time of day. "Of course, I don't know what you expected. After all, you've got a wild bitch of your own, don't you? Perhaps if you could keep a leash on her, my friends wouldn't have such a problem with you." "Hmph. At least someone is trying to clean this city up, instead of funding it's squalor. Look around Vex, the canals are stagnant, the sewers filled with vagabonds and all manner of trash. People are openly bullied by Maven Black-Briar, and her lapdog the Thieves Guild. I said I wasn't going to preach, but for the gods' sake, at least make sure I'm not killed walking home from the bar. I doubt our parents would appreciate the fact you could've stopped it, and didn't," Aerin still had his arms crossed defiantly in the face of the family's unwanted rat. Vex rolled her eyes. "As usual, you have no idea what you are talking about." Even if she wanted to, neither she, nor anyone else could do a thing about Maven Black-Briar. The woman may as well have been the Jarl for all the influence she held. And why would she anyway? The Guild was her means of getting by. And she was good at what she did, one of the best. She headed back into her kitchen, making no motion for her brother to follow. The appliances of the room were covered in dust and cobwebs from lack of use, but the six-seat oak dining table was spotless, as was the exquisite ruby-encrusted silver candlestick that sat, lit, in the middle. She rolled up a map she'd been planning a heist on so Aerin wouldn't see it. "I honestly don't care what those two would appreciate. But you can lie and tell them I'm sorry in your next letter if it means so much to you." As she'd expected, he had followed her into the house. She eyed his bruise once again. "Look, if you want them to leave you alone, your only options are to quit hanging around that big Nord girl, or to get her to drop the hero game she's playing. She broke a guy's jaw last week. Do you really think they are just going to let that kind of thing go? I wouldn't. And I sure as hell wouldn't make them do it either." "That's not going to happen, she's the only one that sees this city for what it is, a cesspool of corruption. Do you really despise your family so much to just throw it all away for what, the thrill of stealing, the money? There's a reason mom and dad never visit. This city is dangerous, that's why they moved away. Look your house, your life. You have no relationship, your house is covered in dirt, and your family doesn't even talk to you. Is all that worth it, so that you can steal ruby and silver candlesticks?" Aerin took a seat in a chair, the velvet cushions sinking in. He sighed and leaned back, relaxing and looking exhausted as he stretched out. They despised me first. Thought Vex, at the mention of hating her family. All except Carlotta. She wasn't going to say that to Aerin though. Instead, she looked at the candlestick. There were hundreds of trinkets more valuable than this one spread throughout her house. Even if she quit thieving here and now, she'd still be set for a long time. She spared a glance her brother's way. He was exhausted, stressed, and hurt. "I'd say that it's working a lot better for me than whatever you're doing is for you. So... Yeah. It's worth it." "I didn't have to sacrifice my-" A knock at the door interrupted him, and he glanced at it then back at Vex, before annoyingly getting up and walking to the door. He disgustingly looked at the cobwebs before opening the door. Much to his surprise, another member of his family stood, his older sister Carlotta, looking just as surprised and excited as he was. "What're you doing here!? Don't looked so shocked to see me here, it's just as abnormal as you coming to visit, haha! Come in, just ignore Vex's lack of cleanliness. Here, take a seat," Aerin pulled out a chair for her, then sat to her left. "Aerin!" Carlotta followed him into the house, smiling wide, but a little confused as to why her little brother was in Vex's home. She, Boldir, and Mila had gone to visit him a bit earlier but found he wasn't home. Her stop here was in hopes that Vex could tell her where he might be. As it turned out, that wouldn't be necessary. He had only just taken his seat when she engulfed him in a hug. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" Aerin quickly moved his head so Carlotta couldn't see the bruise, and hugged her viciously. "Oh, just catching up with our dear sister. How long have you been in town? Why didn't you see me sooner?" Aerin smiled at his sister, completely forgetting about how mad he's been at Vex only moments earlier. "We only got here yesterday." answered Carlotta. After breaking away from the hug, she sat down next to him. "Mila and Boldir are at the market. They'll be excited to meet you." "Mila? I finally get to meet her! And I assume Boldir is...your husband? Thanks for the wedding invite sis, haha," Aerin patted his sister on the arm, laughing as he did. Aerin seemed even more cheerful than Carlotta had remembered. Then again, it had been a long time since they'd last seen one another, and of all her family, it had been Aerin who she'd left on the best terms with. He was the one who'd written so many times after Tolik died, offering both his sympathies and his coin. In fact, he was the only one who'd been happy for her marriage in the first place, and now, upon learning of another husband, he is immediately as happy for her now as he had been then. It made her feel a pang of guilt, but not enough to override the joy of seeing him again. "He is," she said. "If it helps, our wedding was small, that is, it was just us, Mila, and two others. It was earlier this year. It took a few months to work up to coming on this trip." "It would've been three had you just written me! I could get there in a heartbeat," Aerin smiled, soaking in the warmth his sister always exuded. They were the closest siblings of the three, but still rarely visited each other. Carlotta had Mila, and Aerin had his crusade against the Thieves Guild. They still loved each other, but the distance and lack of income from them both strained their relationship. They used to write quite often, yet it wasn't the same recently, especially after Tolik died. Carlotta smiled. She had no doubt that it was true, but that didn't mean it would have been easy for him. She did not want to put her brother in a position where he felt compelled to give up so much just to come and see her. She began to answer but was cut off by Vex. "This is great to see, really. But I've got more important things to do than sit here watching you two have this little family moment." She nodded towards the door for the second time in two days. Carlotta rose from her seat, not fazed by her sister's attitude. "It's good to see you again this morning as well, Vex." That was no sarcasm, she realized. It surprised her a little, but she actually meant it. Thief or not, Vex was her sister and she loved her. "Come on, Aerin. I'll introduce you to my family." "Lead the way sis," Aerin said, following Carlotta. Once they exited the door, however, he pulled Carlotta aside. "Just ignore her, she's still so dead set in her evil ways that it's corrupted her to the bone. Always was like that, even when we were little. Anyway, enough with her, let's go meet your family," Aerin's smile returned, and he glanced over at the market to see if he could make them out. Carlotta didn't respond, not wanting any involvement with Vex and Aerin's feud. She just nodded and led the way back toward where she'd left her family at the market. *** "That's ridiculous," said Boldir as he and Mila headed away from one of the market stands and towards another. The one they'd just left had belonged to a tall and slender Nord with long, dark red hair and a funny accent. He was advertising some sort of potion that he claimed came from the blood of the Falmer, or Snow Elves. The odd man had insisted that it was capable of making Mila stronger than a man full-grown. Or possibly allow Boldir to see through walls like the Snow Elves apparently could. It had taken much effort to pull Mila away from the scam artist, but he eventually managed to. "Nu-uh." Mila shook her head defiantly. "It was just last year when the adventurer told us. He said that he found them in a cave way up north, and that they were blind, and wore clothes made of giant bug shells." "Mila, the Falmer have been gone even longer than the Dragons were. Whatever the man saw, he was wrong. I think the Dunmer wear bug shell armor sometimes, and some of them are a bright gray skin that looks white. Maybe he was just confused." "The Dragons came back." she pointed out. "What if the Snow Elves did too?" She honestly had a point. Boldir had realized his mistake not a moment after he mentioned Dragons as a comparison, but he'd hoped Mila wouldn't catch it. He should have known better with her. "Look, Mila-" "Hey!" Carlotta's voice from behind cut him off. He and Mila turned to see her and a stranger approaching. Is that Aerin? he wondered. If it was, Boldir couldn't see it. Aerin was even shorter than Carlotta, by about an inch, but his face was longer, with sharp features. His mid-length brown hair was much lighter than Carlotta's. All he shared with her was the green eyes, but even then, his were darker and more faded. The two of them must have favored a different parent. Then again, Vex had bright blonde hair. He shrugged. The family were obviously diverse. When they got closer, Carlotta introduced them. She'd had to speak loudly to be heard in the market crowd to even get their attention. Now that she was closer, it was easier to enunciate without yelling. "This is my brother Aerin." She looked to Aerin, "and this is Mila." she patted Mila on the shoulder, "and my husband Boldir." Aerin looked up at Boldir, shocked at his height. "Welcome to Riften! Hope you don't mind the smell, or most of the folk who live here. Haha, and you must be Mila!" he said, squatting down to get at her eye level. "You're just as pretty as your mom described. I'm your Uncle Aerin, and it is a pleasure to finally meet you. And just so you know, if you ever need something," he lowered his voice slightly, still loud enough to be heard however, "that your parents won't let you have, just come to me." Aerin rose back up to his full height, then said, "Speaking of things I might give you, how's about I make up for all those birthdays, and wedding, I missed, and I take you guys out to eat! My treat, of course." Aerin's quick manner of speaking gave Boldir and Mila little opportunity to respond with greetings of their own, but Boldir didn't really mind that. "You didn't know we were in the city thirty minutes ago." he said. "This isn't going to get in the way of anything you had planned, is it?" "Unless an army of Thieves Guild hating soldiers walk in, I doubt I have anything better to do. Plus, even if I did have any plans, you guys come first, seeing as we have a LOT of catching up to do," Aerin said cheerfully. His happiness somewhat bled over to his talking, as the more excited he was the faster he talked. Boldir nodded, taking silent note of his mentioning of the Thieves Guild. "Then by all means, lead the way." Aerin pushed through the crowd, uttering lots of "Excuse me's" and "Pardon me's" but eventually they reached the Bee and the Barb tavern. Aerin graciously opened the door, allowing his guests to enter before following suit. They sat at a quiet table in the opposite corner, where hopefully they could converse in peace. Boldir and Mila sat across from Aerin and Carlotta. Mila, who had been holding in questions the whole time, finally burst out with the one she knew to be the worst, but couldn't help asking. "Do you own a boat?!" "Haha, I wish! No, unfortunately I don't. They really aren't that popular anymore, not as many fish in the lake. But, I do know someone who does, so maybe in a few days we can go fish together. I can even teach you how if you don't know!" Aerin was like a kid in a candy shop, smiling and laughing, his whole face alight with joy. "I know how!" Mila's smile would've stretched as far as his were she capable of it. "I learned yesterday!" Carlotta shared a glance with Boldir before looking back at her brother. "So you know a fisherman? What's their name?" "Is that so? Well, you've got about as much fishing knowledge as I do then!" Aerin turned to Carlotta, shaking his head. "Don't worry, my friend Runar owns it. It's actually one of the largest fishing vessels left here in Riften, and it takes him and two other men to man it." Mila's eyes lit up. She'd been on a tiny, three-seat rental last night. The one her uncle spoke of sounded much more like she'd imagined back home. She grinned at her mother. "And you said I probably wouldn't get to ride on a big ship." "I honestly didn't expect it to be so easy." she answered. "The only place you'll find a bigger ship is on the coast. I've also heard the High Admiral is building her a new one, said to be bigger than any other in the navy. Unfortunately, Runar's isn't quite that big, but it isn't a dingy either." He looked at Carlotta, making a 'tsk' noise before talking. "How dare you doubt such a wonderful city could crush your wishes Carlotta! I am offended on behalf of every citizen of Riften," Aerin's voice dripped with sarcasm as he said the last statement, and he placed his hand on his chest in mock shock. "Oh stuff it!" Carlotta said playfully. "I grew up here, same as you. Even Boldir's from the area. Obviously not from the city if you can tell it from his accent. But he used to come here on occasion. Isn't that right Boldir?" The corner of Boldir's mouth was still twisted into a smile at the mention of Rebec. She and Baldur would be in Solitude now. Probably overseeing the finishing touches of the Black Wisp. It was weird to hear about them all the way down here, in the opposite corner of Skyrim, from a man who had never even met them. It was strange to think about, but the two of them were known all across Skyrim. As he thought about it, he felt a certain longing. It would be good to finish with Riften and take his family to see his shield siblings once again. "Boldir?" "Eh?" Boldir snapped out of his thoughts and back to the present. His wife had said something about Riften, and a kid. "I was saying that you used to come here sometimes, didn't you?" "Oh, aye. When I was young." "I'm sure you thoughts of the city are just as unpleasant as mine, although the food isn't all that bad," Aerin licked his lips, as the Argonian waitress had just brought out four succulent chicken breast for them. "Let's dig in!" Aerin cried, wasting no time in devouring the juicy fowl. The others quickly followed suit. Mila set about to obliterate her portion. She ate the chicken so quickly that it was a wonder that she tasted it at all. Boldir was not much better, but he at least tore his pieces off before eating them. Carlotta thought watching the two of them eat together was hilarious, almost like it was a competition to them. Once Aerin finished, he belched into his hand and stretched out in his chair. "Nothing like a good meal to take edge off. And now a round of mead for all of us! Except Mila, unless you guys are okay with it?" Aerin asked, while the waitress brought four bottles, but only passed three out. Aerin took a good swig of him, the Black-Briar mead going down easily. "No" said Carlotta. "Aww, come on." Mila complained. "I'm thirteen now!" "No." Boldir mimicked. If Carlotta wasn't going to let her have a drink, he'd stand by her on that. He followed up by taking a long drink from his own bottle. Regular Black-Briar mead wasn't his preference, but it was better than most of the plainer brews. Aerin frowned, the leaned over to Mila, whispering, "Parents are no fun!" Then he raised his voice, asking, "So, who wants a sweet roll? Frosted, of course!" "I do!" Mila exclaimed, to no one's surprise. "One sweetroll please!" Aerin yelled out to a passing waitress. "So, what're you guys doing in town? Why the sudden inkling to come visit?" Aerin asked Carlotta. "It was hardly sudden." she answered. "I've been wanting to bring Mila down here to meet everyone for a long time now. This was just the first time it was truly possible." "Seemed sudden to me, because of the unexpectedness. A nice surprise though, and I'm glad you guys decided to come," Aerin smiled at his sister, then took another swig of his mead. "So what have you heard from Ma and Pa?" asked Carlotta. "It's been a long time since I last heard from them. Vex says they left during the war to help where they could. And that they settled in Windhelm afterwards." "Not too terribly much, just that they've settled down in Windhelm and seem to like it well enough. Don't see how, I always thought it was a snowy and miserable city," Aerin said, lacking his usual cheerfulness. Boldir frowned slightly. "Have you ever been?" he asked. "Windhelm is far from how you describe. It is snowy, yes, and hard, but not miserable." The city had always been a place of companionship and brotherhood to Boldir. When he'd first gone, he'd felt like an outsider, but that had changed very quickly. He felt compelled to defend it. "Umm, well no, as I'm not a fan of snowy weather," Aerin said rather sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed. Boldir had thought as much, but seeing Aerin's embarrassment, he felt that he shouldn't have been so blunt in calling him out on his ignorance. He was family now after all, different as he was. Boldir took a swig from his bottle as he thought about what he could say to make Aerin feel less foolish. "Well," he started, the empty bottle clanking on the table as he sat it down, "the cold would probably be worse for you than for me. I don't understand it, but maybe that could be enough to make a place miserable." "You should visit Ma and Pa some time." Carlotta added. "Decide for yourself. Maybe your Nordic side will end up liking it." She herself had little trouble with the cold, but wasn't the biggest fan of Windhelm either, or at least based on what she had heard of it. It sounded like a fantastic place for Stormcloaks and historians, not so much for color-loving fruit venders. "Maybe, I've never really put my cold resistance to the test! I'll probably visit them sometime, and maybe I'll find the city to my liking, haha. May even consider moving there myself if I like it so much!" Aerin said that last part somewhat sarcastically, as he didn't really expect to move to Windhelm, not anytime soon. Carlotta smiled. That trip would be a long time in coming. If nothing had changed, then what cold resistance Aerin did have was not up to par for what was needed in most parts of Skyrim. "I'm sure they would be excited to have someone up there with them." she said before taking a sip from her own mug. "Well, you guys could always move there! Not as many fruits to sell, but I'm sure you could find something else to do. And Boldir could...hmm, I don't believe I ever even asked what you did Boldir?" Aerin said a little sheepishly, realizing he'd forgotten to ask such a common question. "I'm a Stor-" Boldir stopped himself short. It'd been months since he left the army, but it would likely be many more before the instinct to refer to himself as such was gone. "Ex-Stormcloak soldier. Now I'm Commander of the guard in Whiterun." Eyebrows arching, Aerin was visibly shocked. "Oh really, that's very interesting. I'm sure as an ex-soldier you could find work almost anywhere. What did you do before the war? Carlotta mentioned you were from around here, were you a farmer?" "Only if that work involves fighting, unfortunately." Boldir hesitated before answering Aerin's question. He didn't much like talking about his time before the Stormcloaks. "I... was in the Legion before the war. I joined at a young age. Before that, I lived up in Shor's Stone." "A fighter through and through eh? Having grown up nearby I'm sure you have some family friends. Heck, I might even know them!" Aerin exclaimed, then chuckled a little. He seemed to be out in good spirits by his families' arrival, so much so most anything was funny. Boldir looked at Carlotta. She was curious as well. He was from here, but other than their secret about the Black-Briars, he had never really spoken at any connections with anyone in the area. "I wasn't close to anyone in the city." he said. "My trips here with my father were rare and brief. Sorry." Aerin smile wavered, but only for a brief second. "Ah, that's a real shame. It's always nice to catch up with people you haven't seen in ages, right Carlotta? Haha," Aerin laughed at calling his older sister out. "You've been awfully quiet Mila, everything alright?" the kind uncle asked, turning to look at his adolescent niece. "Yes sir." she answered. "I was just listening." "You should try and remember this occasion." Carlotta said to Aerin, grinning. "That's a rare thing from her." She was joking, of course. Mila was usually a good listener. She nudged her daughter with her elbow. Mila smiled and turned slightly red. "Actually... I was still thinking about the boat." "Don't worry, I'll get you that boat ride!" Aerin assured, patting Mila on the shoulder. "Well," he said, looking around at the table, "if we're all done, we can go somewhere else, if you guys want." "Actually," Carlotta said. "I think it's about time for all of us to begin settling down." Aerin glanced at the windows, noticing the purple and crimson skies outside, and agreed completely. "You're right, of course. It's getting pretty late. You guys staying here for the night?" "Yes," she answered, "we've already got a room rented." "Alright then, I'll be headed home. See you tomorrow, and sweet dreams Mila," Aerin tickled his niece, smiling as he did. Mila laughed and pushed his hands away, while everybody rose from their seats. "It's been good to see you again brother." Carlotta said, giving Aerin one last hug for the night. "Good to see you too Carlotta, it's been too long," Aerin said, returning the hug, and giving his sister a peck on the cheek. Mila danced around her mother and Aerin and towards the stairs to their room. Carlotta gave her brother a smile as she broke away from the hug, then turned to follow. As she did, Boldir extended his large hand to Aerin. "It was good meeting you, New-Brother." he said, sounding so uncharacteristically friendly for anyone but his immediate family that it briefly stopped Carlotta in her tracks. Aerin firmly shook Boldir's hand, and smiled at the large Nord. "Likewise," he said, before leaning in closely to whisper, "Can I talk to you, alone?" Boldir's brow furrowed, but he nodded. He turned back to Carlotta. "I'll catch up with you, Love. Aerin and I have something to talk about." Carlotta looked puzzled, but nodded before turning and heading off. She was sure that Boldir would tell her what it was about when he got to the room. "This won't take long, I promise. It's just, after hearing that you're a guard commander, I can't help but ask," Aerin lowered his voice, barely audible even to a man standing as close as Boldir, "I need help, taking down the Thieves Guild. Please, this city is a mess, and I think you can command enough respect to clean it up." Boldir was visibly surprised by the abruptness of this extreme request. It was sad that things were so bad that Aerin was coming to him, but Riften hadn't been his problem in many years. He couldn't make it so again, not now that he had a family to look after. "No." he said softly, shaking his head. "Sudden right? I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean right away. But once you, you know, have some time... this city is ruled by Maven Black-Briar, and she has a choke-hold on the Thieves Guild, and uses it to drain money from every vendor in the city. Please, I'm asking you a favor as your brother," Aerin pleaded, his almost always present smile gone, replaced by a solemn frown. Boldir sighed. As if he didn't know all of this already. "Look, believe me when I say that there are very few things in this world that would give me more satisfaction than wiping Maven, her pets, and all the rest from the face of the world, but that is simply not possible. They are worse than I think you realize. I'm not putting Carlotta and Mila at risk by going after them. You're a good man, Aerin. Don't pursue this. If not for your own well-being, then for your family's." "You're right, we'd need extreme backup. And only if our family was safe. Sorry I asked you, it's just I've undertaken this personal crusade, along with a friend of mine, and it's gets under your skin, until you can't stand it anymore," Aerin said, fidgeting with his fingers as he did. Boldir nodded, then put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in close enough to smell the mead on his breath. He spoke even more softly than before. "I knew you were not a fan of the Thieves Guild, but I didn't know that you were already do- trying to do something about it. Now that I do, I have to say something... As long as my family is here, I want this "crusade" you speak of to stop. I'm not asking. Us being family, it puts more people at risk than just you." He hated to speak like this to Aerin, as he did like the man, and now, knowing just how strongly he felt about the scum in this city and the fact that he was actually making an effort to do something about it gave Boldir a new perspective of him. He respected what he was doing, and that he was brave enough to do it, even if it was ultimately futile. Aerin grimaced, realizing the implications of his actions against the Thieves Guild, even more so than the occasional mugging. "I understand, I won't endanger any of you. Have fun visiting Riften," Aerin said, turning away and leaving with a frown in his face. Boldir wasn't happy to end on the sour note, but he let Aerin go. He didn't want to send the message that he was on the fence about helping. Anything else, thought Boldir, if it had been anything else, I could've done it. He hated that he could not help, but there was no way he'd put his family, or even himself, at that kind of risk. The Black-Briar family was too powerful to risk going against. He headed upstairs, where Carlotta at on the bed and Mila at the desk by the wall. "What was that about, Dear?" Carlotta asked. He came and sat beside her, then spoke softly so Mila wouldn't hear. "He wanted my help in dealing with the crime here. Eventually even the Black-Briars." "What?!" Carlotta was shocked. "And you said 'no', right?" "Of course I did. I told him that he'd be wise to stop trying himself." Carlotta sighed in relief. But she was worried for her brother. "So that bruise on his forehead, do you think that's from-" "I don't know, he didn't say. But I'd imagine it was. The Thieves Guild are thugs, and they work for Maven. I wouldn't put it past them to attack someone for speaking out against them. There aren't many in this city who would do a thing to stop them." Carlotta felt a little bad that there was nothing to be done about this situation, but family comes first. "Do you think he'll listen to you?" "I don't know. Probably not. But he did promise to stop while we're in the city." "That's good." Carlotta yawned. It had been a big day, and so would tomorrow. "Well we can drop this for now. Hopefully forever. Let's get some sleep." "Agreed." Boldir looked over at Mila, who was drawing in the candlelight. "You going to bed Mila?" "Not yet." she said. "I'm gonna finish this first." "Alright," he took his shirt off and laid down beside his wife. "Just make sure you put the candle out when you're done." With that, Boldir rolled over and went fast to sleep.

Skjari (and his mages) Green Road south of Bravil Afternoon The group mages in their black robes rode along the Green Road. The only sound to be heard was the hooves of the horses clapping against the road and the wind coming from the Niben River that lied just a few hundred yards to their left. Giving the air a certain fresh smell. The sky had clouds dotted all over it with the sun standing high. "You know what I think we should do." Bormir interrupted the silence. "No tell us, I'm so curious." Edward said with his voice filled to the brim with sarcasm. "Haha. Just listen. I think we should give our little group of elites a name." "You already got a name. And you're still yet elites." Skjari spoke from the slightly lonely position in the front, leading the group. And he didn't even turn his head as he rode. "Come on, we've been training several hours a day with few breaks to even catch our breath. At least we should be a little elite. But my point is that I feel that old name doesn't really fit in this place and time." Skjari didn't answer. "So what name do you suggest?" Maximus asked after a moment of silence. "I don't know really. Something along the lines of 'Black Knights' or 'Dark Warrior-Mages' or something." Bormir replied. "You're as bad with names as some of those Stormcloaks." Edward said, sounding a bit annoyed. "What do you mean?" Bormir looked a bit puzzled. "I mean they came up with the name 'Darkened Archer' for that traitor Lorgar. Sounds weird and is a bit overly long." Edward replied. "I bet he named himself that. They got good names like 'Necro Nords'." "I find that to be a bad name as well, sounds like a bunch of necromancers." "Well if you're only going to complain, why don't you come up with a good name for us?" Edward grew silent and got a thoughtful expression. He was silent for about a minute, looking at the sky a few times. "How about 'Heartland Sorcerers'?" "That's the best you could come up with? That's hardly something that would put fear in our enemies." "Well at least it's better than those you came up with." Edward was now sounding a bit angry and upset instead of annoyed. "Shut it both of you. No more arguing." Grosch interrupted with a stern and loud voice. The group grew silent and no one said a word for a couple of minutes. "How about 'Black Dragons'?" Gildi who rode near the rear of the group said. "Not that bad." Maximus said. "And we could be called 'Dragons' for short." "That's a pretentious. Dragon are mighty and if we're called simply dragons people might mistake us for real dragons. What a letdown it would be when only some mages show up." And the discussion was on again. Skjari could only roll his eyes at some of the arguments he heard. Also felt like such a pointless topic to discuss so much over. But he didn't stop them and whenever the arguments started to heat up Grosch made a loud sound of clearing his throat, which immediately got them to calm down. Later the topic switched to magic and a little bit about Dales and then the riots in Leyawiin. At some point Skjari just stopped listening and turned his eyes to the sky where he saw a familiar black bird glide on the wind. Circling down till he finally landed on Skjari's shoulder which got all the other mages to be quite for a second to give the display a curious glance before they continued with their talk. "Hello boss. You wanted something?" Karsh spoke into his ear, with the small eagerly and hopeful undertone he used when expected a task that could break his boredom. Where did he learn the word boss? I don't remember teaching him that word. Skjari thought to himself. "Seen any bandit camps?" He then said in a low voice. "Nope." "Any Thalmor?" "Nope, no shiny soldiers. Saw a some of those furry two legged cats a few miles southwest, heading west. Quite a ragged bunch." "Hmm." Skjari started thinking of who those might be, probably hunters, but they could be Thalmor spies. Either way, they were heading west and he couldn't really chase them without risking going over the border. So he let it slide. "Anyway, I got another small task I need you to do. Go back to the Imperial City, the city in the lake with the big tower. Check in on Dales and see how the situation is. Then head over to the spymaster. Blonde hair and big chest. Get her to do some digging on the Cheydinhal count's family. See if they got any disputes within or outside the family. And what friends they got. She is then to write this down on a small note and only give it to you to deliver. Then while she does some digging you can go southwest and go check in on Maggie and see if she's still alive." "Got it boss." And the raven took off and flew in the opposite direction the nine mages were heading. Then he continued to think a little about those khajiit and also listened a little to the mages conversation. Bormir made a small comment about milk-drinkers which Maximus managed to turn into a dirty joke, though the joke also involved their leader's harem. Skjari stopped the horse, turned it ninety degrees and looked at Maximus. "Maximus." He said calmly. "Shut up." This time the voice was slightly more stern. Maximus looked ashamed but also a little scared as he hanged his head. He remained silent for over five minutes, which must have been a record as he never stayed silent for long when a conversation was around, before he joined in on a conversation about the Stormcloaks involving parts of the civil war. He and Bormir was the loudest voices on that topic.

God some of those fonts are literally unreadable, thank goodness they were long since dropped by the time I joined.

Lucienus, Samuel, Night, Valenwood, The sound of leaves flying in the wind was the only thing Lucienus's enhanced hearing could pick up, as he sat cross legged on a small bed of flowers. He enjoyed silent reflection on the occasion, it gave him time to think about things, it let him contemplate the weeks events. The moon was out tonight, and glowed like a bright orb in the darkened sky, above the shadowed tree's of Valenwood bellow. For some odd reason, the imperial vampire was on edge...he wasn't...relaxed...something felt amiss. He ignored the feeling. In his lap was his ebony shortsword, and inside the leather longcoat he wore, was a dozen throwing knives. He likely wouldn't need them, since if he ran into any hostiles. he could disappear into the shadows, and systematically kill them with his hands, no need to get his precious blade wet with blood. His eyes were slightly closed, but not fully. Fully dampening the five senses in any way, in a hostile environment was not smart, even for a man as skilled as Lucienus. "Careful so you don't hurt the flowers; you know how touchy the treehugger elves are about nature," a suspiciously friendly voice came from somewhere to Lucienus' left. Samuel was standing by a tree, his shoulder leaned against it, eating an apple. He had thrown his hood back, and was dressed in dark, almost black, leather from top til toe. Lucienus's eyelids fully opened, revealing his glowing purple orbs. Even if his hood was thrown down, he would never mistaken that affable, yet somewhat mocking voice. He didn't bother to turn around, but he readied one of his throwing knives. Lucienus's voice was as cold as steel. "I really doubt, a daemon would care about hurting the feelings of a certain ethnicity." Lucienus let loose his throwing knife with his right hand, aiming at the laughing sound he heard. With a loud thud the dagger impeded itself into a tree. Lucienus hurriedly got up from his sitting position. Drawing his ebony shortsword, he placed it into a reverse handgrip. He quickly glanced from corner to corner, scanning the area for the vampire. Ignoring his comment, Lucienus called out, "Why are you here, Maurice?" "I was in the area," Samuel ran around to the right, letting a few glimpses of his shadow show through the trees a couple of times, before again disappearing from sight. "And I heard some interesting rumors. A former acquaintance of mine, joining up with, well, some people I don't rightly care for." Back where he had started, out of sight, he continued. "I am surprised though. You never stuck out as someone of particular skill, given all your failings over the years, so why some of the best shadows in Tamriel would hire you is beyond me. Were there many others options available for them? I wouldn't be able to say for sure, but I'm going to make an educated guess and say that it seems unlikely." Lucienus couldn't line up a target, Samuel kept disappearing. Though he kept his cool, Lucienus hands trembled slightly. Dont let him get into your head...don't let him get into your head, Lucienus said, in his usual laid back voice, "I-I don't know what your talking about, Maurice. And beside...my commanding officers name was the thing that impressed the dominion recruiter the most." "Of course it was. You never did impress much on your own. Had it not been for that particular ability of your bloodline, you'd be useless to the Order back in the day. And now you came as a package deal. You must be a very lucky man, " another laugh, this one much louder, ringed through the woods. A dagger found itself in the ground before Lucienus' feet. "Better run, little rabbit. Don't want to die in these forests, do you?" Fear gripped Lucienus,but in Lucienus's own experience, fear has kept him alive more times then not. Following his fear, Lucienus's began to run in the opposite direction of the impended dagger. I'm exposed out here. He has the advantage...no, he'll have the advantage were ever we are. I need to withdraw. Entering the dark tree line, Lucienus ran. Running after the man, Samuel picked up his dagger. Left, right, left, he took a pass through the forest that would let him intersect Lucienus from the left. A small orb of light appeared in his hand, letting him see the outlines of his prey's body. Less than a minute later, he had caught up to him, running side by side with him, only separated by just enough trees to hide him. "Come on, Lucienus. You can do better than this. Or maybe you can't. You surely didn't do much to help some of your friends, back in the day." Lucienus flung a dagger to his left side, hearing the voice of Samuel so close to him, still running. As he did, a tang of guilt erupted from his chest, but he quickly banished it back into the depths of his soul. Despite knowing better, he responded in a stoic voice, "That wasn't my fault." "Of course it wasn't. It never is your fault when someone you care about dies, is it?" sprinting a little further ahead, Samuel crossed the line of trees almost right in front of Lucienus, pointing his dagger towards the Prey's left shoulder. "It is not like some of the Scars depended on you when hell broke loose with the Brotherhood." "Shut up!!!" A sudden outburst from Lucienus came, with his voice tinged with slight anger. That moment of fury, distracted Lucienu's, and he didn't notice the blade coming right towards his shoulder. The blade plunged into the vampire's flesh, with the dagger only being slightly stopped by the leather padding on his longcoat. Lucienus didn't let out a cry of pain, as he instead instinctively, slashed in the front of him, as he slide down into the dirt, and emerged, still running forward. "Oh, but how can I?" Samuel laughed again, seemingly staying behind. He wasn't though. The path of trees would lead the Prey along a path to the right. Running into the forest, he stopped in the middle of that path, waiting for Lucienus to come to him. The Prey's outlines showed that he had been right. Seeing the ancient vampire blocking his path, Lucienus eye's shone bright purple, as he half-heartily launched a ball of lighting towards Samuel. "That was pathetic, even for your standard," Samuel took a single step to avoid the bolt, sending a small, green orb of his own in return. A simple, and fairly weak, blinding spell. But in the dark, it would be a great hindrance, even for a vampire The orb hit Lucienis directly, making his vision became bright. He could now barely see, even with his night vision and regularly enhanced sight. Lucienus stumbled backwards, tripping over a rock, which caused him to fall to the ground. "No, no, no, this won't do," Samuel sounded disappointed and dispelled the blinding spell, with a sinister smile on his lips. "It is no fun if you're out of the game so quickly. Maybe I overestimated you. Which would truly hurt my feelings, if I were in your shoes. So, go on, wittle wabbit, run. Run!" With his vision restored, Lucienus suddenly disappeared in a cloud of shadow from the ground, and reappeared right infront of Samuel, standing fully up. He attempted to slash at his stomach with his ebony shortsword, Samuel jumped a few steps back, being taken lightly by surprise that Lucienus would be foolish enough to try that approach. Wiggling his finger at him, like he was a unruly kid being corrected, Samuel disappeared in between the trees. "Ah ah ah, it is not time for that yet. You have a surprise to reach, before this is over. Something I think you'll be glad to have back in your possession. Or not. It lies at the end of this path." Desperate Lucienus conjured with his right hand, a massive amount of smoke, to hide himself from view, as he rushed forward, fleeing deeper down the path. "Lucenius, I have a gift for you!" Samuel walked out on the path behind the Prey and conjured a very interesting spell he had picked up. A flash of Rose burning her hand at it went before his eyes before he flung the Sun Fire bolt after the smoke. And another and another. Five bolts of burning light closed in on the Prey just as Samuel went back in among the trees and pursued. Sunfire?! How the hell did he learn Dawnguard magic? The vampire assassin ducked, as he casted two large wards in an attempt to block the dangerous restoration spells. He successfully managed to block four, but the fith slipped past the wards, and hit him in the back. This time he cried out in agony, as some of his skin was torched by the magic. His speed decreased, but he kept moving down the path. "Five weak spells and you could only ward against four? Tsk tsk, Lucenius. Maybe this is why you failed to save anyone from your clan." Samuel had caught up to Lucenius again. His wounds made him easier to follow. Drawing a dagger, he lined up the throw. It went out on the path, passing right in front of the Prey. They were closing the clearing he had planned for this little meeting. Ignore him...ignore him...ignore him... Lucienus kept telling himself in his head. Lucienus evaded the dagger, while turning around, and flinging one of his own throwing knives. The vampire's blackhair was drenched with sweat, and he was visibly tired, but he kept running. "Lucienus, we both know you have something to say. Perhaps this is the time to admit your own incompetence to yourself? You're not good enough to survive this by yourself. And you're alone. Again." While he kept running, Lucienus self-doubt began to gnaw at him from the inside. Samuel was right, I am alone...I have nobody...my family...my friends...all butchered and dead. I'm worthless....I cant help anyone, not even myself-NO. Lucienus shook his head, and continued down the dark the path. Despite the pain in his back and shoulder, he began to reach normal speeds again. Samuel had passed Lucenius a minute or so earlier and arrived in the clearing, seeing him approach. Again he was leaned against a tree, somewhat heavy of breath, waiting for him. When Lucenius arrived, Samuel smiled and pointed to a tree on the opposite side of himself. "A little something I thought you wanted back. I'm sure you'll recognize it." Luceinus's tore his gaze off Samuel, and looked upon the tree. A small, metallic object with a chain was hanging from a branch. In a single instant, Lucienus, ignoring Samuel completely, rushed too it. "No..." Closer inspection would reveal it to be a golden locket, with a gold chain attached. It was small, and had a purple gemstone in the middle. A luxurious item. A mage could detect a preservation charm upon it, which is why it looked almost brand new. Lucienus grabbed it, and gently held it into the palm of his hands. A single tear fell from his purple eye. "Did you know that your sister survived the initial attacks on your clan? I wasn't involved in those, too important at the time for such common work, but I was asked to hunt the survivors down. Did you know that? I doubt it, most people never knew. Anyway, some of those I had to handle myself. That is where I got that." Samuel had walked up behind Lucenius and pulled one of his daggers. Without any hesitation, he plunged it into the Prey's back, on the right side. "Seems I was ultimately the one to finish the job too, despite not being Order anymore. The universe has a sense of humor, no?" Lucienus's hand reached to grab the dagger's blade before it could hit it's mark, he didn't bother to glance back. The leather gloves he wore provided only minimal protection, as the blade sunk into his hand, causing crimson to appear on both the blade and the hand wear. The vampire's hand shook, not in fear, but in pure, unbridled rage. His voice, was equally wrathful, his usual self restraint had vanished "She...was only ten...she hadn't been even given the gift yet...SHE WAS A ******* CHILD!!!" He turned around, still holding the dagger's blade in his grip, and slashed at Samuel with his sword, this time with supernatural speed and precision, "You bastard!!!" "Yes, I'm good at that, am I not? Playing the villain in the history of all you small folk? An authority to overcome? A tyrant to oppose? Too bad that the romance stories are rarely true, where the underdog win. Seems it is fantasy more than fact. She was just another target." Lucenius' blade slashed across Samuel's chest, but it didn't cut all the way through the leather and Samuel stepped out of his way. Before the Prey could do anything more, he had flung a few more sun fire spells against him, while drawing his own blade. Lucienus blocked them with a well timed ward. Drawing a dagger, as well as bringing up his ebony shortblade in a reverse handgrip, he delivered a fury of slashes at Samuel. He called out, "A target... A target?! There's things that separate assassins, from killers, Daemon. I follow a code of honor, I follow the honor of my clan. What do you follow, monster?" "At the time? The code of the Order," Samuel continued to evade Lucenius as best he could and parried whatever he couldn't. "Not that it matters now. Or then. Did you ever wonder what really happened to your sister? If you did, you'd thank me. Or maybe not, being involved in the killing of your entire clan and all, but appearances are deceiving. But... keep this up and you'll never get to know what actually happened." For a brief moment Samuel turned invisible and ran out of reach to the edge of the clearing. "Do you want to hear what happened to your sister after she escaped the attacks on your clan? She had about a year to get into trouble before I found her. Some of it is... harsh to think about, even for me." ​Liar... liar... liar.. "You slander her memory, daemon, when you mention her with that deceiving tongue." "I wish I were. Her fate was... horrible," Samuel shook his head and ducked in behind a tree, emerging with a worn book and threw it at Lucenius' feet. "Read it. She could write fairly well for her age, so someone gave her the supplies to keep a diary. No idea who or why. I assume you'll recognize her handwriting? You'll cry before the end of it, trust me." Lucienus, warily picked the book up, and read from a random page. To his shock, this was his little sisters handwritting. Lucienus eye's filled with horror as he finished reading a diary entry, and they soon became watery. He dropped to his knee's, letting the diary fall from his hands. A few tears drops fell from his eyes, but he managed to stop a full out waterfall. "It is sickening what people like the ones who found her would be willing to do to a child," Samuel's expression reflected an understanding of the pain. "Using her that way... Even I would never go that far, regardless of who I wanted to hurt by it. If children has to die, they should be allowed to die a quick and clean death. Not endure that." Again he approached Lucenius. "I'm sorry, but I still have to kill you. It is nothing personal. Had you stayed away from the Dominion, I could walk away." Samuel was so into his fight, and "conversation" with Lucienus, he didn't notice a shadowy figure approach him from behind, and by the time he did detect him, a massive runeblade was coming down upon him from the back. It moved with supernatural speed, and strength "Lorgar? Didn't expect to see you here," Samuel, again invisible, looked with a raised eyebrow on the runeblade. It had missed him by a small margin. "I do hope that you've been smart enough to bring backup, for your own sake." Lorgar was clad in heavy plate armor, which was painted red and black. On his belt were two large jagged knives, and on his back was a dark ebony bow. His face was covered by a metal mask, which had a wolf-skull painted over it. One of his eyes were hidden from the darkness, but the one on the right shone bright crimson. He circled around the vampire, pointing his massive blade at Samuel, he spoke in a clear, professorial tone, "I ran ahead, there's eight Blood Wolf Commando's on there way as I speak. I wanted to have some fun before they got here, Samuel." Not missing a beat, in a bust of speed, he closed the small gap between them. His heavy armor didn't slow him down in the slightest, and using only one hand, he thrusted his runeblade at Samue'ls left shoulder. "Stay with me Lucienus." He called to the now collapsed vampire. Samuel used his own blade to redirect Lorgar's thrust and jumped out of the way, disappearing in between the trees again. A few more sunfire bolts was cast towards Lucenius, hiding a dagger among them. Not waiting to be charged again, Samuel took to jump up to the lower branches of the trees and climb a bit higher, before he moved around the clearing in a circle. Recognizing the spells, Lorgar rushed forward to his second's downed body and blocked the sunlight magic with his own body. It didn't affect him in the slightest. Lorgar scanned the tree for his target, not only did he have enhanced eye sight, he had enhanced smell, and he knew his now prey's scent. Detecting a whiff, he drew Lucienus's gift to him, and fired red spectral arrow shots. Arrows incoming, Samuel had to jump to the branches above him to avoid them. Sending another barrage of sunfire against Lucenius, he threw a blinding and a sound spell among them. Lorgar quickly grabbed Lucienus fallen body, carrying it with ease, as he jumped backwards to avoid the incoming magic. "I thought you killing close friends of mine would end with Marius, seems like your being a little greedy here." "And you're being an idiot, if you think working with the Dominion is going to end well for you either of you," Samuel continued to cast sun fire spells, aimed at Lucienus. If it didn't end with the Prey's death, it'd keep Lorgar from retaliating and cover his retreat. Working alone, he had to get out before the rest showed up. "Business is business, the Dominion offered me a deal I couldn't refuse." Lorgar used his back to block the incoming sunfire spells, acting as a shield for Lucienus, "We all have to make a living, i'm afraid Daemon. Not all of us make a living off being a bitch to the order, and the ruinment and killing of innocents." "No, instead you side with the ones who already has and will once again kill thousands and thousands of innocent civilians, numbers I couldn't boast even if I wanted." Samuel continued to cast the sun fire, occasionally letting a blinding or sound spell into the mix. "I don't care about what my employers do, as long as me and my men don't commit those acts, and act like professional soldiers, my conscious is clear. As I said, it's simply business. The Thalmor are clients, as a mercenary, i'm obligated to accept any contract, without bias." Side stepping to the right, Lorgar evaded the incoming sun fire and other various spells Samuel was using. Lorgar could play mind games of his own, "Marius would have died for you, and you betrayed him. You ruined his life, he was your lover, and you stabbed him in the back. Molag Bal is to good an owner for your blackened soul." "Then Marius was an easily manipulated fool," Samuel let out a laugh again, and continued to move in a circle around them, casting his spells, jumping up and down the branches. Then, suddenly, he stopped moving, remaining still. "I'm sure you really think that enabling the Thalmor in their atrocities frees your conscience. Does it free your conscience too, that you have killed so many innocent people over the years, because of your condition? Does the pain you caused everyone close to you matter at all? If you so readily judge me, you must either be a hypocrite or self-deluded." He laughed, a hallow bitter laugh, "I'm a killer at the core, Samuel, my Lord Hircine made me into this. I was molded since I was very young to be a hunter. At least, I try to stick to my principles, and try to limit civilian causalities. I've killed Stormcloak's, Dominion soldiers, Imperial Soldiers, bandits, reavers, I enjoy it all. Tullius, Marius, my uncle, they all saw it me." "The difference, Samuel. Between you and me, is I don't call my actions morality and justify myself. You kill children, Samuel. Children. You reap life indiscriminately, and think your above them all. I'm filth. I'm a monster. But at the least, I admit it, and try to stick to a code of conduct." "It never ceases to amaze me how well people think they know me, and how no one has gotten it right, even after all these years. I suggest you give it more thought, should you be capable, before you speak of such things again, to save yourself the embarrassment of constantly being wrong. Until we meet again." Nothing but silence followed. The sounds Samuel made as he left the scene were shallow and indistinguishable from the sounds of the forest. "******* vampire, reveal yourself. Stop being a coward, stop hiding in the shadows, and enter the moon light for once in your miserable existence!!!" Lorgar called out, angrily. He thoght for a second of pursing the vampire into the forest, but his attention was drawn to his fallen comrade. Lorgar dropped his runeblade, and gently layed Lucienus onto the ground, "Come on Lucienus, stay with me." Lucienus had lost a great deal of blood, and his his vision was blurring, he was losing consciousness fast. Lorgar didn't have any time to spare, he picked up his body, and rushed in a burst of supernatural speed back to the fort.

Skjari Skyrim Morning "Wake up. Wake up, you overgrown wyrm!" Skjari said out loud in the dragon language to the giant, sleeping, black dragon that that lied curled up and sleeping on the ground in the cave of his sanctum. The dragon then half opened the left eye and looked at the old acquaintance. "Let me rest little king." Then a small puff of smoke came out of the nostrils. Then he closed the eye fully. "Not until you've listened to what I've got to say. I mean just look at this mess." He gesture with the hand, even though he did not really expect the dragon to open the eye again to look, to the trash the dragon had thrown around in the cave. The body parts of a body along with the armor still attached to it was littered over the ground. The head was missing put Skjari assumed that the frozen and bloody pile of red, pink and white goo that lied near the neck of the torso had once been the head. A helmet lied a few feet from it all and had dark color to the metal and decoration of a golden dragon on it's top. Near the edge of the entrance was a broken sword, the hilt was long and the crossguard was a round plate separating the hilt from the slightly curved but broken blade. "I come here for a bit of fresh mountain air I find this. If you are to stay here you should at least keep the place tidy. I don't want blood, guts, broken arms and armor and other such trash lying around right outside my doorstep." "I shouldn't have to excuse my actions to you. I found this unsuspecting savage and brought him here to tell me to fill me in on the news." "Did you have to bring him just here? Or clutter him all over the place for that?" "This was the best place I came to think of at the time. And he wasn't prone to talking." "Just clean this mess up. And I don't want to see another such messy incident again. This is my place too." "Maybe later. First I want my nap." Another puff of smoke came out of the nostrils. "Just try to get rid of the blood without scrapping too much on the floor." Skjari said wearily. But no answer came and only heavy breaths could be heard coming from the dragon. Skjari just lightly shook his head and drew a sigh at the display. An ancient king in a new era, on a quest to convince bloated nobles of a foreign land to let me marry a lesbian empress, while also playing cave host to a dragon. Almost feels like I'm in a crazy fantasy story. He thought to himself before casting the teleportation spell that took him back to the empty castle of Bravil. Drawing a small sigh he walked out of the castle, past the garden where the mages had already begun the training for the day, through the city and into the legion camp where he went to the general's tent. He walked in and past the without himself announcing his arrival to general within. Instead one of the guards just shouted a quick: "The nord mage is here." when Skjari was in the middle of pushing the flap to the side as he entered. "Got the map yet?" "Yes. Just arrived from the imperial city archives a few hours ago." Pointing to the table, the map of the sewers was set out over the round oak table. The orc general gave a snort, "I have a message from the spymaster addressed to you, as well." He took out a bound scroll with the sigil of the Oculatus, which Skjari grabbed, broke the seal and quickly started reading. "To Lord Snow-Strider, Her Majesty Dales is having horrible nightmares that are taking a physical toll on her. During them she occasionally has violent spasms, in which the nurse I assigned to her is forced to hold down her body I tried to brew her up a potion to relieve her of some pain and stress, but it helps little. I'm making her rest right now. When I heard you requested a map, I thought I would inform you of her health, since a messenger was heading back anyway." Great. He thought to himself before turning the paper to ash in a quick blaze. "Boring but sad news. Now lets look at the map." Pointing to the map, the old orc gave a yawn, "I would think they would want to hide in the most obscure part of the sewers, thinking there was no maps of it. There's unused parts that are very old, I would assume the entrance into the sanctuary would be somewhere there." "If that area is the closest to the black door. It's just to go down there and place a few traps and see if we can catch some foul fish." "That's an idea. I was hoping to sink my axe into some criminals, but meh..." "That will come in due time. We can go down there and search for the entrance, but if it's hidden, it'll probably go faster to catch someone who knows where it is. So I'll go down there and place a few ice traps, your men can place a few bear traps if you got any while also searching to see if they can find the entrance anyway. Then have them wait a bit further away and wait for screaming, or a frosty explosion." "I'll organize the operation right away." The orc general headed out of the tent without another word. "But the... map." Skjari looked at the sewer map in front of him, wondering if the general got another copy or if he would come back to get it. Skjari made a guess at the first and rolled up the map and headed out the tent towards the city gates. Near the the edge of the camp and the bridge leading to the city he sat down on a big rock and rolled up the map while having it float in the air with magic. Thinking about what ways lead from the spot they would search and marked those ways with small magic runes for where the traps should be placed. All while waiting for the general to get the men ready. It took a good thirty minutes, but soon the orc was in sight, surrounded by a large group of legionaries from the 12th, around a cohort, 120. Each of the legionares were in full battle dress, wearing there legion's armor and colors with pride. The general approached him, "I send a cohort of my men down to the sewers first, They'll wait in position until I give the order." "You got any bear traps, or do I have to place all the traps myself?" He held up the map for the nord to see, and pointed to various locations throughout the sewers, "There being fetched right and to be set up. Four bear traps in each of these area's. If we miss any of the smugglers, then the'll most likely try to escape and head through these locations, making them easy picking for our men later on, if they're not completely incapacitated, or die from the blood loss and pain." "You'll get you're legionaries in place, have a few at each entrance that's close to the traps and listen for screaming. I got an idea about sending something down there to search a bit more directly after any smugglers." "Care to share?" Skjari cast a spell and a black mist appeared next to him. "It's called a Seeker." "Seeker? I suppose it's some kind of Daedra?" "Yes, I'm not going to bore you with details but it got two 'forms'. First is this mist form in which the creature can be very hard to see and can move extremely fast. Second form is just an ugly heap of tentacles that moves slowly. So I hope you understand why I'll keep it in mist form." "Tentacles? Ugh..." Shaking his head, he said, "As long as it keeps to the criminals instead of my men, I'm fine." "Just be glad this one is in mist form." Skjari made a small wave with the hand and the mist disappeared. "Anyway, shall we leave?" Nodding his head, the orc placed his helmet, which was made from a boar head onto his head, while drawing his battleaxe, "Let's start the fun." Skjari turned around so the general couldn't see him rolling the eyes. Traps weren't even in place, they were still being fetched. Then he started to walk, through the gates and into the city with the legionaries in tow. He looked at the sewer map he himself had and noted which sewer entrance lied closest to the black door and headed there. The city was quite silent, beggars could be seen hiding in dark alleyways. Or maybe they weren't really beggars. Skjari gave them a suspicious glance but none of them really looked their way, rather they seemed to try not to look. One of them had the body shaking noticeably. Once at the sewer entrance, which was quite hard to spot because of all the dirt covering the lid, Skjari stopped and turned to the general. "Better put the rest of your men on patrolling the city a bit while we wait, keep them from getting restless." The general's eyes filled with disappointment at the wait, and muttered under his breath, "I want to kill somthing." He ordered his troops to take turns to patrol the city. "We need something to kill before you can kill." With that he turned back to the lid, had it levitate to the side before summoning two black mists that quickly swept down into the hole. Then returned to the general. "Want to play some chess while we wait?" Chess? Why not." Skjari created the illusion of two chairs and a small table with a chess board on it. He then sat down in the chair supported by a leviation spell and gestured for the orc to take the other seat. The general sat down, before saying, "You black or white?" "As you can see the black pieces are on my side. Unless you want to be black." ''I'll stay white." He said simply. Skjari waited while the general made the first move, and the chess game had begun. It was a couple of years since he himself had played much chess and found himself a bit slow to adjust his mindset to the game. The general fared rather well, but that was to be expected from a man in his position. The battle raged for some time as the general kept doing clever evasive maneuvers, but as Skjari took out his opponents last tower and with his knight with a nice little trap that left both his queen and the king vulnerable. Five turns later and the match was won. "Again?" Skjari asked. "Bah..." He got out of his chair and stretched his arms, "Your pretty good. Surprising, didn't expect Pinkie's glorified magic teacher to fare better in chest then me." "I didn't step in partly for high general for nothing. Want to try again or maybe try another board game?" He got back into his chair, "Fine." "Well we can't really do much but wait for something to happen." Skjari looked around, very few people in sight. And the people that did passed by only gave them suspicious or fearful looks, or a mix of both, none had even bothered to stop and look a little at the match. The whole city had a layer of eeriness hanging over it. "Seems like people aren't that interested chess." The chess pieces then magically got into place for the new match. "There all afraid of the skooma ring. You can feel it in the air." "A fear for a lot of things. Even if we remove all the skooma dealers within 10 miles vicinity, this city is still in a bad shape, and close to the Dominion border. You're move." The orc general moved his knight, "Fear keeps you alive. Its useful on the occasion." Skjari didn't answer and was thinking about what his first move was to be when he felt one of the Seekers calling out to him. "Seems like we got one." He rose up and at the same time dispelled the magic so the chairs, table and board disappeared. Though in his hurry, he had forgot that general sat on one of those chairs. Resulting in the general falling on his butt before he was even given a chance to react. But Skjari didn't pay that any attention as he quickly walked over to the hole the lid covered and lifted it with magic. "You coming?" Getting up, he angrily glared at the nord, before giving him a toothy grin, "Of course." Looking at the ladder that was partly covered in filth, he instead decided to cast a levitation spell and jumped down into the hole, slowing down right before he reached the ground. It was like stepping into another world. The ground, walls and even partly the ceiling was covered in grey, green and brown filth. The stench smelled like feces and rotting carcasses and made his nose numb at the first breath of the underground air. The only light coming from the hole above him, preventing the field of sight to only a few yards. Skjari pulled the hood onto his head and then proceeded to cast a couple of small spell, one creating a small sphere of light, another to clear the air from the smell around his nose, one to keep the filth from into the clothing and protecting the armor and so on. Then took a few steps into the tunnel to leave some room for the general to descend while he took out the sewer map. The general grabbed onto the ladder, and descended into the filthy sewer, he ordered his men to hold position until word reached them. He strapped his two war axes onto his back, and went down, "Do you know were your Daedra is?" "Yes and no. That's partly of why I'm holding the map. I know a spell that will lead us to it, but we should keep track on the map so we don't get lost." He then cast a clairvoyance spell and followed the blue mist on the floor into the sewers. Slowing down to look on the map repeatedly as they went on. A few minutes later a whimpering from a man could be heard around a corner along with pleas for help in a low voice. "Seems like that's our man." "Shall we do the good guard, bad guard routine? Or can we rip his finger nails one by one until he squeals like a little piggie?" The orc said, excited. "I don't think it will be necessary." He said as he rounded the corner and saw the Seeker holding and pressing the man into the filth at the bottom of the right wall with the arms. It was an average looking imperial with short hair and an uneven scrub at his cheeks. The Seeker itself was floating in the air, tentacles dangling where it's legs would have been and the head had tentacles sprouting in almost every direction except forward. Something that looked like torn dark green cloth cloak covered the sides and back of the monster. The orc looked at the tentacled monstrosities, but instead of fear, amusement was in his his eyes, "Now that would be a useful thing to have around." Skjari didn't answer and walked forward to the man lying in the filth, ignoring his pleas. "Now you will show me where your hideout is hidden." He said callously. "I don't know what you're talking about." He man said in a frightened voice, slightly louder than his previous pleas. "Well then I don't have any use for you, now do I?" The Seeker then grabbed the mans head with one hand and slowly brought it closer to it's gaping mouth where it's belly would have been. A mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth. The man started to whimper and even scream a little and kicked the best he coudl with the little strength his fatigued and somewhat broken body could muster. "I'll show you! I'll show you where it is!" The man screamed as his head was halfway into the mouth and the second row of teeth was touching the top of his head. The mouth started closing and them man's screaming became intense but before it was fully closed around his head, he was thrown into the wall by the Seeker that then took onto it's black mist form. Skjari turned to the general. "See, we didn't have to do much." "Mister tentacle is stealing all the fun." He said grumpily, "But effective nonetheless." "You'll have fun soon enough." He then took a few steps closer and kicked the imperial in the side. "Get up." And the man slowly started getting up, half covered in filth. Once up on his feet he bent over and starting throwing up. When he was done emptying his belly Skjari gave the man a light push. "Start walking." Limping passed them, a faint sound of crying could be heard from the man as he lead them deeper into the sewers at a slow pace. After walking for another few minutes the imperial stopped before the side of the wall. It wasn't any different from the rest of the sewer walls except this whole stretch was noticeably a little less filthy. "Behind this door. You open it by pushing the stone with the small skull engraved on it." He pointed at a stone in the wall that was about chest high. One had to look closely but the skull was there. Skjari looking at the map pointed at the location they were at. "We're here. We should go back and get your men. Also order the rest of the legion to surround the city. They must have a tunnel for smuggling the skooma into the city, wouldn't surprise me if they try to flee through it when when we charge in. Could also be a good test to see how alert your legionaries are." Nodding his head, the orc general ran back through the tunnels. First he turned right, which was the wrong way, and two seconds later he came running back and into the left tunnel, which was the right way. Skjari then looked back at where the imperial had been standing next to the skull marked stone and found the spot to be empty. Looking down the opposite path the general had taken he could see the man limping away a few yards from him. But he didn't get far till the Seeker suddenly appeared before him so his bounced right into it and fell backwards into the dirt. Paralyzed with fear the man just sat in the dirt looking at the Seeker that just floated towards and past above him, grabbing the by the arms with the tentacle legs and started dragging him with it. Now with the skooma dealer secured Skjari calmly walked down the same way the general had ran off on. Looking at the map again he noticed he still had the runes for where he had planned to place magical traps, but had actually forgotten about. He then made the runes fuse together, marking the hidden passageway instead. When he reached the hole leading to the surface he grabbed the criminal from the Seeker and commanded him to climb up the ladder. Slowly and unsteady he obeyed and started to climb the ladder to the surface, with Skjari following a few feet below. It felt like a big relief being out of the sewer and above ground again. Also made him think of why he had enchanted the bedroom roof back home. The criminal was then handed over to the legionaries that was stationed to guard the sewer hole while he and the general had gone down, he was still to be interrogated for additional information about the syndicates connections within and outside the city. Then he conjured up another chair and sat down for a little rest while waiting for the legionaries to get in place. The orc general returned twenty minutes later, along with with a group of thirty or forty legionaries. Each of them were clad in a mixture of leather and steel plates, they looked very rugged. Instead of the normal legionary shields, they had large tower shield, and there standard issue Gladius's were larger then the ones the 4th and the 6th legion utilized. They also stinked almost as bad as the sewer, and most didn't bother to shave. The Orc himself was leading the group of men, he went up to the Nordic mage, and said, "I deployed ten Cohorts around the city, and ordered the legates to do a coordinated deployment into the city itself. They'll sweep up the unwanteds, capture as many as possible, and will occupy the center until we finish mopping up the hideaway's in the sewer. He gave him a wide grin, which made his tusks more visible "Now that I think about, I didn't give you my name. General Grommash "Hellcry" Drogoth, of the 7th legion. At your service." "Did I give you my name? I don't recall. Anyway, I'm Skjari. In case you didn't already know." He turned to his men, who were waiting eagerly for orders. Grommash raised his voice to a moderate level, and said, "Legionaries. The nord over there, with the scrawny beard is your High-General." A few snickers could be heard from the assemble men, and looks of confusion. The orc continued, "Yes I know. You were expecting of course, your great might Grommash Hellcry to be given that position." As he said those words, someone could be heard laughing. The orcish officer let out a snarl, and pointed his greataxe towards the soldier, "Pipe it Tribune Rumulus, i'll feed your body to the sewer rats. Anyway's, gentleman. Today, were going to kill alot of low lifes, criminals, drug dealers, the like. Today, the 7th will once again be declared a bunch of miscreants and deviants by the high and mighty sixth and first legion, along with those ****ty councilor. But you know what? **** them, let's bust some heads, have a fun time, and drink all night long after the slaughter fest!!!" The assembled legionaries laughed, and cheered. "Just remember to take some prisoners. I doubt all of them will be in the hideout, or in the sewers. Anyway, lets go before they manage to relocate. They must know by now what we're up to." He got up from his chair as it dissipated into thin air, quickly walked to the hole in the ground and jumped down, slowing down just before reaching the ground. Bringing up the map for a quick look before he set out in a quick pace towards the hidden passageway. Without waiting for the rest of legionaries to even begin their descent into the sewers. Once there he drew his sword and put the left hand on the skull marked stone, waiting for the legionaries to catch up. The legionaries caught up quickly and matched the nords speed. Grommash was in the front with one of his great axes out. The rest of the legionaries were in perfect formation, with there shields and gladius's drawn. Without a word being uttered from anyone he pushed the stone and a section of the wall slid back and then down into the ground. The hole left was big enough for one person to get through, two if you didn't mind having to share a lot of personal space. Skjari rushed in first, not eager to having to squeeze in with the legionaries. And what he found was at first glance an empty room with lots of boxes in. A few torches hung on the walls to shed light. There were two other doorways than the one they came in through, one in front of them and one to the left. And when he spotted the left doorway he also spotted two criminals, one khajiit and an imperial, just running out of the room that way. "Grom you take half and go that way." He pointed at where the criminal had exited the room. "Rest with me." And he ran down the other doorway on his right. Grom nodded his head, pointing his axe at a legionary to his right, "Tribune Rumulus, take fist Column and follow the High-General. Second Column on me." The imperial legionary nodded his head, and he followed the wizard to the right, while Grom and his men went the other way. To his disappointment the room he entered was completely empty, except for the black door on the right wall and two other doorways like the last room, one in front and one on the left. "Tribune, you take half of these men down the left way, rest with me." And he continued forward into this time a long hallway to the next room, hoping to find something in this little maze. And something he found as he entered the room. Coffers lined the walls of the small room, less than half a dozen. One of the coffers was open and two imperials stood in front of it, each holding a bag in which they frantically tried to fill up with so much gold as possible from the chest. They of course noticed the footsteps getting closer when they entered the room and turned around just in time for their faces the meet an ice spike. Seeing as the room was a dead end he ordered the rest of the men to return and catch up with the tribune while he stayed to check on the content of the rest of the coffers. Sheathing the sword and walking up to the chest the criminals had been emptying he saw that it still contained some gold, but not much. He picked up the bags and emptied them into the chest before closing it. Then he opened the other chests one by one, some being locked, but nothing a little spell couldn't handle. And they all contained gold to a varying degree. Some even contained a bit of jewelry and other small valuable trinkets. Once he had inspected the content of all the chests he walked out of the room, but not before he had summoned a frost atronach to block to doorway, to keep any legionaries from nicking anything. Then he turned right down the doorway the tribune had headed, to see if he could find him or the general. The fighting, or rather chase, as he doubted that criminals would fight rather than flee, must have been over by now. As Skjari headed towards to the place were the general and his men ran off to, he noticed over a dozen bodies, all criminals. Some had sword cuts, while others had there heads decapitated by what seemed to be a battle axe. As Skjari went down further, he began to heard blood curdling screams and cries coming from a room. Inside, he could see a large line of ragged looking men, who had there hands and feet bound, who were being guarded by a dozen or so legionaries, There were quite a few bodies on the ground. Grom was covered in blood, and his two great axes were at his side. "Found the black gate. I think we can open it from this side without the password. Saves us having to go through the sewers again." Skjari said casually. "Good." The orc warrior said, bringing his axe up over his shoulder. "And get someone to fetch those bear traps. Even if they didn't catch anything I bet your cook will want them back for foraging. I also found their treasury. Quite a bit of gold. Get a locksmith to renew the lock on the door to the castle treasury. You know what, get a new door too." "Meh, I'm too tired..." The orc lied his head on a dead body, and began to snore out loud. "Tribune, now it falls to you then. And can someone wake the general in 10 minutes or so? I can tolerate a small nap this time but he isn't getting away from duty for it. Got it?" "Yes sir." Tribune Rumlus saluted crisply, and ran to follow his order. Though, the legionaries looked worried about Skjari's other order. One of them, a Bosmer, said, "Ummmm sir. General Hellcry dosen't like being woken up." "No one is to sleep on duty. He should be glad I'm giving him ten minutes. Anyway, clean this place up and take care of the prisoners. When you're done with that and he's still sleeping despite losing his pillow. Just wake him up. Poke at him with a long stick if you're so afraid of getting too close." Gulping, the assembled legionaries nodded there heads. Cowards. With that settled he left the room for the legionaries to take care of. As he walked through the room with the black door, that was now standing wide open, black mist suddenly blinked past his field of vision. Two more guarding the treasure. Past the black door a set of narrow stairs of stone lead upwards to what looked like a basement. Judging by the broken planks partly blocking the edge of the upper level, there was probably a hidden door hiding the stairs and black gate. But that must have been a long time ago the hidden door had been properly used judging by the condition of the planks. A few legionaries sat playing card by a table in a corner. Not minding the guards he walked past them and up the stairs that lead to another empty room. Seemed like the whole house had been abandoned for some time. A boring room with a broken window with a few planks nailed over it from the outside. Walking out the door next to the window he found himself out on the streets again. Now that he wasn't planning on going back under ground where filth could drop onto the head he pulled down the hood. Then made his way to the legion camp to give Cerni the news. The legion camp was quite empty as most were still surrounding the city. And he found Cerni to be in her tent, on a chair, apparently staring into space. She was still in her sleeping wear. "How are things?" He asked in the friendly tone he used when talking to her. "Bored. Is the battle over?" The young girl asked. "There was never really a battle. Just cleanup." He grabbed the chair next to her and sat down in it back to front, leaning his arms on the back of the chair while. "Have many did we capture?" "About a dozen I guess. But at least the worst part of this is over." She gave a smile, "Quite. I cant wait for the festive events later on." "That probably wont happen till after a few weeks, there's still the interrogations and executions to do. And some refurbishing of the city and castle as well. And I will move on soon. So I wont be here for the festivities." "I meant the interrogations and the executions." "That's not a festivity. The executions might be a little fun spectacle for the people. But it's not a festivity." "A festivity is something you looked forward to, enjoy, and remember, correct? So yes, it's a festivity." "A festivity is a form of party celebration by some people. Interrogations can be disturbing, and they aren't a celebration. Look forward and enjoy it all you want. But don't start losing grip of what is what." She waved her hand, "I am a countess. If I want something to be a festival, then I can make it a festival. I'm sure the commoners will appreciate the spectacle I have forming in my mind." "People may like a bloody execution now and then. But you'll need to watch not to go too far, or you'll end up disturbing rather than entertaining." "We need to send a message. This will not be tolerated. Instill fear into the peasants." "You need to balance that fear. While you're right that you will need to instill some fear, too much can have a similar effect to that of too little fear. As a leader you'll need to know what is too little and what is too much in just about everything. Just remember that. But enough about bloodshed, how are the magic going?" She looked uneasy, but nodded her head, "I'll take you advice then." On the other question, she raised her hand, and though it took effort, she managed to conjure a small ball of light on the palm of her hand, "That good?" "At least you're moving forward. Keep practicing and maybe one day you'll buy spell book and get on the way of becoming a decent mage." "General Hellcry told me you were her majesties magic instructor for awhile, can you teach me?" "Well I taught you that spell. I might teach you the basics for another but I'll be leaving soon." She looked sad, and actually showed a tinge of emotion, "Do you really have to leave?" "Yes, Leyawiin is also a bit in trouble and I need to see to that too." "Well, you have your duty to the throne, so it cant be helped." "Don't worry. If you ever need any help, you can always turn to me. I might not always have the solution but I'll do my best. Just send a letter." She smiled, the first time he had seen her do. "That would be nice, thank you Lord Snow-Strider for your kindness." "You're welcome. Now which spell would you like for me to teach you?" She looked thoughtful for a second, before saying, "Can you teach my a destruction spell?" "Yes, but not fire magic. I speak of experience. I don't teach novices fire magic." "Would... ice be alright to teach?" "Sure, just keep some hot water nearby in case of frostbite when practicing alone. Anyway, with a bit of luck you'll be able to at least conjure up some ice before I leave." She eagerly nodded her head. Two days later Skjari walked through the legion camp, the ambiance being the best it had been since he got there. With the skooma dealers shattered the morale had gone up, even if the victory in itself was minor, as the syndicate had taken large damage when the legion first moved into the city, they had still managed to be a plague to the soldiers. Skjari reached the general's tent and was granted permission to enter. "I'm leaving for Leyawiin now." The general was arm wrestling with one of his fellow legionaries, a very muscular imperial. The orc destroyed him, and won with ease. Grom's eyebrow's raised at the news, "You not staying for the celebrations? Your going to miss all the meat." "Stuff to do, places to see, people to kill. And it's not going to wait for me." "Well what are you waiting for? Dont leave those sorry suckers waiting for your blade." Grommash got out fo his chair, and offered the nord his hand, "I misjudged you the first time we meet. Glad to have fought by you, Lord Snow-Strider. You ever need to smash the heads of someone, don't hesitate to call the 7th, we like your style, and we got your back." He took the hand and shook it firmly. "This have just been a light brawl. There's still the Dominion waiting in the horizon. Once the city is up and running and you're done recruiting for and training the guard garrison, move south and camp at a good spot between Bravil and Leyawiin. Build some light fortifications and always be ready to move at a moments notice. Your axe will sing soon enough." "That's right, sir. We'll be ready for what those gold-skinned punks can throw at us. Gorebane will taste flesh, as you said, in a little. But until then, I'm hungry." He gave the nord a final nod, before leaving the command tent. He left the tent himself and headed over to Cerni's tent, stopping outside the entrance. "Hello, are you there?" "I am." "I'm leaving now and I just came to say goodbye." "Oh... well come in then. Have a cup of tea with me before you go." At least I can suffer myself one cup. He thought before steeping into the tent. Cerni was sitting on a small chair. She was sipping a cup of tea. Skjari sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the table, then pulled of the gauntlets and put in his lap before pouring up a little tea in a second cup. "So, is everything in order?" She asked. "Yes, my mages have already packed everything and are now only awaiting me southeast of the camp." "Well then." Taking a large sip of tea, she continued, "I can imagine both of us will be very busy in the coming months." "That we will. Anything you want to say before I leave?" "Nothing. Goodbye Lord Snow-Strider, thank you for the assistance." The previous emotion he had seen two days was long gone, replaced by a face of ice. He took a small sip of the tea then put on the gauntlets and rose from the chair. "Goodbye then." He took a few steps towards the flap of the tent before stopping and turning around. "But Before I leave, come here, I want to tell you something." She gave him a strange look, before going out of her seat. She approached the man, "Hmmm, what is it?" Though her face didn't really change, she stiffly returned the hug, "I wont, don't worry. I'm not a little girl you have to worry about." He leaned back but still kept his hands on her shoulders. "I won't, but if you ever need my help, just ask." "Don't go soft on me now." She said, giving him an amused smile. "Don't worry too much about that." He rose up and took a step back. "And keep practicing those spells and maybe one day you can chase criminals out of the city by yourself." "I will." She got back to sipping her tea, and turned away. "Goodbye." He said while lifting the flap of the tent.

Tacitus, Maori Valenwood Night Tacitus sat in front of his fire, his face burning with rage hotter than the flames. I should go back there, kill him. After what he did to me. That merciless Mer, I was such a coward to just leave, to just walk out of there like nothing happened. I can't believe... A twig snapped in the darkness, and Tacitus bolted up, his good hand reaching into the fire to scatter flaming branches all around, so he hoped he could illuminate the black curtain that surrounded him. He then drew his sword, a fine naval cutlass that flashed in the flickering fire light. His eyes scanned the jungle, but he couldn't see anything in the distance. Maybe it was just my imagination Tacitus thought, but couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. .... .... "I'm getting sloppy," said a voice from above. A short Bosmer in leather scaled armor stood on a branch among the trees above him. The dark brownish forest green color kept him hidden as he jumped down from a higher branch to a lower one, but he didn't notice the twig that he landed on until it was too late. Luckily for him, the man he was stalking hadn't detected him. The Bosmer lifted his bare foot and wiped the bark from his feet, before pulling out his hunting bow and crouching, watching the man below through his dark green mask. It covered the back of his head too with a black cloth draping over the back of his neck as well. The mask depicted some sort of beast with the three eyes of a troll, but the mouth of a sabrecat, it's two fangs hanging over a partly opened mouth. The teeth were actual sabrecat fangs. the eyes, real troll eyes preserved in glass. And all of them were fixated on the form of the large High Admiral, waiting for him to move on. Tactius looked over the woods again, finally deciding it was mostly likely jut some animal. He went back to the fire, or what was left of it, and sat down, warming his hand and stump by the flames that danced in the night air. He frowned slightly, wanting to sleep but owning he wouldn't be able to with all manner of beasts out there. A few hours passed without event, which lead to the Bosmer from earlier to give Tacitus some space while he rested further back among the branches above. It wasn't until he heard the calls of animals that he woke up later. Which was peculiar, because he hadn't seen or sensed any animals nearby. Below him within the darkness around the dying fire, the sounds of the wild that always surrounded one in Valenwood grew closer. But from where exactly, it wasn't clear. Maybe everywhere. There was the sound of angry apes, birds, some things not describable, but all of it sounded primal. Tacitus had drifted off, but the sounds of the approaching creatures snapped him awake. The embers of the dying fire flickered softly, casting light only a few feet away, so Tacitus hurriedly added a few more twigs. He drew his sword looked around anxiously, hoping that none of the sailors takes about what lived in this forest were true. From within the shrubs that surrounded him, suddenly the animal calls started changing. They grew more aggressive and drew closer, but under the calls could be heard slight shudders, as if it were laughter. This continued for a while, until finally everything grew eerily quiet. Suddenly, rustling leaves could be heard behind Tacitus, then a little Bosmer girl, maybe ten, came running out to him, as if being chased by something. She was wearing tattered woolen clothing with tears all around it, barely covering her. When she came out she stopped, staring at Tacitus as if afraid. Tacitus stared at the girl, equally shocked by her appearance as she must've been by his. Her clothes in shreds, her skin caked with mud and dirt, and little cuts covering her body, Tacitus could feel nothing sorrow and pity for the poor soul. "What's going on? What happened?" he asked hurriedly, before something could burst out and attack. The girl seemed unsure of the man, even afraid, but she glanced behind her, then walked towards him, albeit slowly, extending her hand in front of her as she went. "Y'ffre says..." she started to say shakily..."Y-Y'ffre..." Tacitus looked at the girl's healing hand, but wasn't about to offer his good hand, and his sword, to comfort this sniveling Mer child. "Just get away from those bushes," he said gruffly, and slightly angrily. The girl continued walking towards him while mumbling something to herself as if to remember. "Y'ffre says of all that's seen, uphold the law for what is green, if hungry eat not of the land, but of the fat of mer...and MAN!" The girl after reciting, pulled a dagger from under her clothes and charged at the Admiral with the hunger of a wild animal, eyes feral and body driving on nothing but the desire to eat. The first thing she went for was his arm, as it already had a stump, after all. The girl's mouth was already salivating as food was closer to being in her stomach once again. She never made it that far, as Tacitus stepped backwards to put her fangs out of reach while stabbing downward into her shoulder, the saber's blade sliding cleaning through her shoulder down to her chest, and it was only with much effort did pull it out, having to step on her lifeless body to finally wretch it free. The strangest part was, Tacitus felt...nothing. He wasn't sad he just killed a little girl, even if she was a cannibal, normally he would've still felt sorry. But he hadn't been normal for a long time, and just as her hunger hadn't been sated, his drive to kill as many of these Mer as possible wasn't either. A smile flashed across his face, and he relished the idea that more were coming. "Anyone else out there want a taste of what Man has to offer! Huh!" The offer was met with the sound of laughter, but seemingly nothing else for a time. The forest went quiet again until suddenly the sounds of mad beings whose voices didn't match the bodies that bore them filled the air. A group of six savage looking Bosmer, some naked, came hurtling out of the woods in a mad dash with their wooden spears in front if them. All of their eyes were equally feral. Their stomachs grotesquely concave. Empty. One of the mer who stayed in the back wore the skin of his last meal over his face. The masked mer above Tacitus looked at the scene with disgust, as their kind was some of the worst Valenwood had to offer. A savage place made all the worse by the things it could so easily hide. Tacitus laughed, a sick, twisted, hateful laugh that consumed him, echoing out from his core. "Hahahamwwahahaha! You want some, you're gonna get it!" Tacitus used his stump like a club, hitting the first attacker straight in the face while slicing at the next one, spilling the Mer's entrails all over the forest floor. The battlefield took a sickening smell, of dirt and grime and all maner of bodily fluids spewing out from the disembowled Bosmer. Tacitus finished off the first starving lunatic, stomping his unconscious face into a mass of blood, and the rotting leaves that lay beneath it. Two of the attackers in the back, including the one with the head skin on his face climbed up into the trees, hidden from sight while the other two on the bottom kept their distance, circling the Admiral with their spears, keeping him back with their points, still laughing and obviously crazed. Suddenly arrows started to fly at their prey, hoping to strike him so they could finally dine. Tacitus heard the arrows, but couldn't see them because of the darkness up in the treetops, so he instinctively rolled backwards, but got dangerously close to the fire, which was burning with full force from the added branches. The sailor sprang up, then rushed one of the two circling spear men. Using the blunt of his sword, he knocked away the first spear thrust, the sliced downward across his foe's body, spurting blood all over his face. He turned in time to see the last on on the ground still keeping his distance, but failed to hear the arrows this time. One missed, falling to his left, but the other pierced his calf, dropping him to a knee. Thankfully, the food deprived natives didn't have much muscle left, so the arrow wasn't too deep. Tacitus limped up, then ducked quickly behind a tree for momentary cover. The masked mer saw enough, and sneaked through the trees behind the cannibals who were running after Tacitus. The masked mer shot an arrow through the back of one of the cannibals while he was in the air going to another branch. The cannibal missed the landing, but his skull didn't. His head struck the branch hard enough to knock teeth out before he fell down head first and fell to his death. The other cannibal who was hanging from a vine with his feet while his arrow was drawn looked up through his last victim's skin, but only had time to see the other Bosmer's mask briefly before he cut the vine with a dagger, sending him crashing down. After he killed the two, he slid down to ground level from another vine with his bow in his hand. The last cannibal on the ground saw the two fall and was ready for his newly arrived enemy. The cannibal picked the bow of his toothless dead companion, and shot an arrow at the other Bosmer, but it missed, hitting a tree beside him after he sidestepped it. When he did, he yanked it out the trunk and notched his bow almost seemingly in one movement, then without hesitation sent it right back, ending his degenerate life. The mer ignored the man for a while, analyzing the bodies before going back to the fire location and strengthening it with a weak basic fire spell. "You can come out now, Imperial." Tacitus slunk out from behind his tree, having watched the events unfold. He limped toward the fire, warily watching the masked Mer the entire time. "Thanks, I guess," Tacitus gritted out, none too happy to be helped by a Mer. He suddenly looked down at his calf, remembering he hadn't pulled the arrow out, so he swiftly yanked as hard as he could on the wooden shaft, slicing his leg open as the head slid out. Tacitus quickly tore some rags off of a dead Bosmer, tying it tightly around his lower leg, having to drop the sword and use his teeth, before reinforcing it with more. "Who are you?" Tacitus asked rudely, picking up his cutlass. The mer ignored his question. "That doesn't matter. What matters is who are you, spy. I need your help killing someone." "Spy? You think I would spy for those butter skinned bastards? I hope I get a chance to kill them, all of them, for this!" Tacitus held up his hand, showing the stump in he firelight. "Why would I spy for someone who cut off my hand!" "I've seen it before. I thought they broke you. You're saying you're not broken?" Tacitus shuttered slightly, knowing they had in fact broken him. The crunching of his bones still rang in his ears, and his stumps still tingled as if he had a hand. "I'm saying I'm not a spy. The general let me go to deliver a message, and an axe, if you can believe that." Tacitus couldn't see it because of the mask, but the mer's disbelief wrinkled his face in confusion, obviously puzzled. "An...axe. That's your excuse." Tacitus smirked, then nodded his head. "For one who "stains the snow." I know, not much of a clue. Said I would've heard of him." Tacitus sat down by the fire, deciding that if this Bosmer ment him harm he would've done it by now. The mer stood, watching the Imperial carefully for a while, then decided if he was a spy, they'd probably have an escort for him in Dominion territory. He sat now, pretending to mess around with his arrow and the dirt, but he was really holding it in case he made any sudden moves. "So, you were caught, then released to deliver an axe to someone who colors the snow. A Nord, then. I was in Skyrim once..." The mer stayed quiet for a time, then said, "Can I see the axe?" Tacitus pointed with his sword, at a rucksack on the far side of the fire pit. "You're welcome to look, although I'm not sure what you'll find. Touch my food and you're dead though." The Bosmer put a hand behind his back and pulled out what looked like a giant ape's hand. Waving it around, he said, "No worries, I've got my own. Imga meat. Want some? You look like you could use a h...nevermind. Too soon." He put the hand back on his belt, then walked over to his pack to pull out the axe. It was of decent make, but of typical Nord design. Nothing out of the ordinary. "So how did you get here, Imperial?" he said after sitting with the axe next to the pack. Tacitus glared disgustingly at the ape paw, his gag reflex acting up at the severed hand. It brought back too many memories, too recent memories. "Uh, no thanks. Keep your hands to yourself. I'm her because my ship sank. I am, was maybe, the High Admiral of the Imperial Navy, when my ships got attacked by a sea serpent. It sunk off the coast of Elsweyr, and I washed ashore. Then they captured me me brought me here." Tacitus stared into the flames for a while, watching the embers dance into the air before vanishing, their live's lasting only a second. "Don't know why I'm telling you this, but I guess it can't hurt. Not sure what you could even do with this information." The mer couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "The Thalmor General just let the Admiral of the Imperial fleet walk out? To deliver an axe? Those bastards are arrogant...He must think you'll screw up now that you're...lacking. He's a fool. If your story is true, then you're a tough bastard. He should have killed you instead." The Bosmer sat quiet for a while, holding the axe and trying to piece it together. "A man who stains snow. Couldn't be. Too big a coincidence. Unless he knew I was following him...Would explain why I couldn't get close enough to really do anything. If he knew I was following him, then it would explain why you were released with no guard or anything, if they wanted you to live. This is going to be a stretch, but have you ever heard of a Nord named Baldur Red-Snow?" "Arrogant, stupid, cowardly, the Thalmor epitomize every disgusting quality in this world. As for the Nord, I'm not sure...I recognize the name but can't place it anywhere..." Tacitus racked his brain, drawing circles with his saber tip until it finally hit him. "Falkreath! He had something to do with the Thalmor betrayal at Falkreath didn't he? I remember because the Nordic High Admiral was there too, Reba, Rebbecca, something like that, and they were connected or something. To be honest I didn't really follow the events that well. Sorta hard to at sea." The mer scratched at his head, then said, "Falkreath betrayal huh? I heard that's where the Stormcloaks and Imperials sided with each other, but not much else. The woman doesn't ring a bell though. Not a lot of news from outside the Dominion gets here in detail. So, looks like I'm going to Falkreath. Obviously something important is concerning my friend, and I can't do any more good here. If he knows an admiral, then maybe he has connections. I can offer intel from my time here. Work inside the Dominion for the alliance. Even organize a spy group for them with the friends I've made here. You headed back to Cyrodiil obviously, right? Could you get me in contact with someone who knows more? General Adorin and Red-Snow had a history, but there's no reason he'd just take interest in Baldur now of all times. Not without a reason. You're an admiral yourself, so you must have connections." "Actually, I think this Red-Snow was in command of the Stormcloak troos there, now that I think about it. But yeah, I can find someone who'll know more about the situation, and where to find your friend. I doubt he'd still be in Falkreath after all this time. Say, how do you even know this Red-Snow?" Tacitus asked the masked clad Mer, staring at the dirt in front him. Several small bugs, beetles and caterpillars and centipedes crawled all around, and Tacitus was busy chopping them to bits with his sword, their green insides bursting out when he did. "That's a long story, but about twelve or thirteen years before the civil war, he helped me kill some Thalmor who were after me. He was a merc, sort of. More of a bard. He has all this girly pretty hair that would make an Altmer jealous...heh. Anyway, the one who cut off your hand was the first emissary then. Red-Snow threw that axe in his shoulder, but he teleported away. Recall I guess. We killed the other Justiciars though. My sister...we were originally supposed to save her. And we did, but they put a magical trap on her...so our mission turned into one for revenge. I ate the one that did it. He killed my mother too before and the rest of my family, so he needed a fitting death. After that, I didn't have anywhere else to go. He went his way, so I went back to Valenwood and tried to join any rebel forces that may have still been around, but all I could scrounge up was a few assassins and spies, not an actual force. But I used it to follow this Corio. Finish what we started." "Sorry about your loss, but I don't think there's any getting to Corio soon. He's got a lot of troops holed up in that fort, and he has his own personal guards. So, when would you like to get a move on?" Tacitus asked, looking now at the Bosmer. "I saw them. I was going to ambush one of their Bosmer to wear his clothing, but he's a careful man. They have to recite some kind of creed before entering that building. Anyway, whenever you're ready to move on, we can leave. I can help you to avoid the dangers of this land, although it would be a lot easier if we were climbing in the trees. Think you can do that? It's not as hard as it looks, and the branches are really close together. I can help you climb up since you're injured." "Uhh..." Tacitus thought for a moment, tuning his gaze to the trees as he did. It may not be that bad. I've spent years climbing ships rigging, as ropes are a lot like vines, while masts are just like tree trunks. Maybe it won't be that bad. "Well, I think I could. Shouldn't be too different than boat rigging, right?" "I wouldn't know, I've never been on one. The Thalmor controls most of our ships. Only wood we Bosmer use is imported from outside Valenwood, you see. Come on, it's fun when you get the hang of it. Watch!" The Bosmer put his imga hand behind his back and tucked it into his belt, then ran forward and up a tree before hopping onto a low hanging branch, then hanging upside down from his legs. Sticking his hand out for Tacitus to grab, he said, "Throw your pack up first, then grab my hand." Tacitus hesitated, and almost on cue his left wrist started aching. He suppressed his doubts however, and quickly tossed the pack up to the Bosmer before getting a good running start, leaping and latching onto the outstretched hand. "Gah, ****! Okay, I think I over estimated my growth in strength...Okay, okay...." The Bosmer pulled as hard as he could, then got Tacitus up high enough to pull him up from his trousers. "Phew! Y'ffre, you are one big Imperial. Was your mother a Nord or something?" "Grandmother. And great-grandmother too. That's why I've got similar golden locks as you're friend, apparently. Now, how exactly will this work? We just climb?" Tacitus asked, the task seemingly much more daunting now that he stood in the tree, and with only one hand. "That's right. It helps to be nimble on your feet. Don't make any jump you aren't sure of. It'll get easier as we go higher, you'll see. Since you're missing a hand, when you jump, pull up to the left with your whole body to hook your leg over the branch. And that left arm isn't useless, I saw you use it like a club, heh, stubborn bastard. Use that arm to hook around the branch. You need your whole body for this, not just hands. By the way, my name's Maori." Maori closed his fist to demonstrate how he should climb. Then he hopped up after kicking a leg off of the side of the branch and lifted his body using the core of his gut as well as his right arm. Then he used his left leg and left arm to hook on the branch and lift himself up. "Tacitus," he said simply, then watched the demonstration from Maori. Once the Bosmer successfully climbed to the next branch, Tacitus attempted the maneuver himself, albeit awkwardly. His attempt at hooking his left leg over failed, so he straddled the branch before he could pull himself up. "Ah, that'll take some getting used to. Alright, let's go." "There's only a few more branches left we need to climb. After that, we'll be practically walking on a road. Albeit with holes. Wait a second, I think I see a short cut. Feel like a little risk taking?" Maori pointed a finger a few feet away from them to a really thick looking green vine. "See that?" "Why not. I've already lost a hand, what's the worst that could happen. After you," Tacitus swept his hand toward the vine, motioning he'd follow Maori. "Okay, that vine's not actually a vine, but a green snake with fake leaves growing out of it. You can tell by the shape, although it takes a trained eye. That, and it's pissing right now. The muscles in these things are very powerful. If you swing on one, it will yank you up and try to wrap around you. If you time it right and let go, it will swing you up to one of those higher branches. Like this..." Maori quickly dashed forward and jumped from the branch. As he said, the vine moved and yanked him up as quickly as he hopped. He disappeared in the trees, and everything was quiet for a while, until a few moments later from above, he said, "See? Nothing to it. The trick is to not be afraid to let go as soon as you grab it. I can see it's head from here, it's huge! If it gets you, I can kill it." "Well, here goes nothing," Tacitus mumbled to himself, before he took of sprinting at the snake. The branch he stood on was wide enough to run on, so he got a good start before he hopped off, latching onto the serpent for only a split second. The snake's rigid muscles tightened up, pulling them both towards the sky. Tacitus had already let go, and was flying up, up into the canpoy, where he landed next to Maori. "Heh, that wasn't so bad. How'd I do?" "For a hulking mass, you fly pretty well, Admiral," Maori said between a grin. He could hear the angry snake below them, it's hiss filling the air from it's huge size. "Haha, I think she likes you. Looks like snakes have a thing for you, Admiral." Tacitus frowned, replacing the smile he'd had from the snake assisted jump. "Heh, not funny." "Oh, right. Too soon again. Red-Snow was better at that. Anyway, lets go. Time for you to see Valenwood the way Y'ffre intended."

Part Two Theodore Adrard Daggerfall Morning All the nobles gathered in the dining area, but this time the tables were literally turned, running lengthwise and parallel to the throne, which sat the shackled and chained Aleron Rolston. Joslin Gaerhart led the proceedings, sitting in the middle of table. To her left, Theodore, who's family in turn sat to his left, including his nephew Lord Colin Ryger. On Joslin's right, most of the lords on good terms with the Rolstons, most prominently Lord Simon Birian and Lady Roain Birian of Jehanna, along with various Dukes and Barons. Those unaffiliated with either group, mostly Northpoint and Shorhelm men, sat off on two smaller tables stretching towards the throne, making all the tables resemble small horseshoe. At the end of the horseshoe sat the throne, while several chairs sat in the middle of the tables, which had guards standing on either side. It was the witness stand, and Lady Joslin Gaerhart was leading the proceedings, which most of the nobles had agreed on. "We are here today, to conduct the trial of King Aleron Rolston, on the charges of attempted murder and crimes against kin. For the first witness, we call the handmaiden Anya Farr, daughter of Baron Edgar Farr and Baroness Anna Farr, allied to the Rolston Family, protectors of the Far Reach barony." Joslin smiled at the twenty something handmaiden, who looked obviously nervous. The stony guards watched her wearily, while the girl glanced at her parents, who sat far down the Rolston allied side. "Okay dear, why don't you tell us what happened?" Joslin said sweetly, every bit the kind old lady. "I f-found a vial, inside the dresser of Lord Rolston. It was underneath m-Lady's jewelry box, hidden beneath some clothes. When I picked the box up, it fell out of the clothes, and I picked it up," Anya muttered out. Aleron, venomously watching her the entire time, cried out, "Liar! You thrice-cursed wench, you know that wasn't mine, you-" Anya's father stood up drawing his blade and pointing it at Aleron. Her mother stood as well, hand placed on her husband's shoulder, attempting to calm him. "Shut your mouth, before I shove my blade into your throat, coward! No one talks to my daughter like that, least of all a bastard like you!" Baron Edgar Farr yelled out. Aleron tried to stand, but the chains anchored him to the chair, and his blonde hair shook as he spoke. "Sit down, you're nothing more than a peasant, and the Forsworn have more control of your lands than you do, fool!" The table erupted, insult flying from Aleron's supporters at Farr, while those opposed to the King yelled insults at Aleron's men. Joslin Gaerhart stood as the lone symbol of neutrality, although her allegiances truly lay with Theodore. Her cane banged loudly on the floor, echoing throughout the great hall, until all quieted down. "Sit, and we shall resume. Sit! Anya dear, is this the vial you saw?" Joslin asked, pulling said vial out of a bag sitting on the table in front of her. Anya nodded, "Yes ma'am." "You are dismissed, deary. I now call Lazare Geles, Uraccen Broles, and Bernice Limax, all three Head Alchemists from the Alchemical Guild of Daggerfall. Please be seated," Joslin motioned, and two more chairs were brought up. A very short man, a wiry balding man, and a very witchy looking woman all took their seats, none of them looking particularly worried or nervous. They were veritable experts in their field, and as such knew their potions and poisons. Their robes, flowing green with gold accented leaves sewn in, draped over their bodies, dragging along the floor. "You three are expert alchemists, no?" Lady Gaerhart asked. The woman spoke for them, saying, "Yes, we can recognize almost every potion or poison known to man, or mer." "Good, do you recognize this vial?" the Theo's mother-in-law asked, handing the beaker off to a guard, who took it to the alchemists. The trio took it, the skinny balding Uraccen Broles holding it in his wiry, lanky fingers. A few minutes passed, in which they spoke in whispers before Uraccen spoke in a high pitched, shrilly voice. "It appears to be a potion of damage health, died blue to appear as if was a magicka potion. Made from ground nightshade, frostbite spider venom, and blueberries. Potent, to be sure, although the mixture must be perfect to cause death." "Thank you. Now, we face the obvious question as to how someone could survive, as Lord Adrard did." At that, Theodore stood, bowing show who he was to the alchemists. "Do you have any reasons as to how someone might survive said poison?" Joslin Gaerhart asked. This time, the pudgy Lazare Geles spoke, and he said, "Age is a factor, as is ones fortitude. Also, the larger the person, the more poison it takes to bring them down, of course." Joslin nodded. "You are dismissed, thank you for your time." "We have one more witness we would wish to see. I call guard Ylbert Woodcroft to the stand, who was the guard who have chase to Anya Farr. Please describe what you saw that night, sir." The Breton man, a thick black beard covering his thick set face, sat uncomfortably in the chair. He grumbled to himself, not enjoying the presence of all the nobles. "Aye, I will. Lo-King Rolston could be heard talking inside, the he yelled out 'Stop her!' 'Bout that time the door opened, and that girl ran out. I tried stopping her with my spear, but she jumped over it. Then King Rolston ran out, chasing the girl. We ran after her, but went 'round the corner where you and the girl were standing. Then you told us to arrest him after the girl gave you the potion or poison 'er whatever it was." "Would you mind describing what Lord Rolston looked like?" Lady Gaerhart asked, in her sweetly innocent voice. "He was sweaty, I know that, 'cause I remember some of it splashin' on me as he ran by. He looked really pale too, and his voice was all shaky." "Thank you, you can go," the trial leader said. Next were the other three guards who took part on the arrest, and all told similar stories. "We have heard all the witness and expert testimonies, and now I shall bring all the witnesses and experts back out, and open the floor to questions," the former queen said. Anya, along with the trio of alchemists and the four guards all sat in an equal number of chairs, facing the nobles off to the side of the throne. Aleron had been surprisingly quiet after his outburst, while his eyes had looked more solemn and downcast with each witness stepping to the stand. Someone stood, from one of the unaffiliated tables, off to the side. His cape draped over his shoulders, crimson in color, with a black heart, pierced with an arrow, the sigil of the Estermont family. It was Lord Derrick Estermont, of Shornhelm, a muscular man known for his courage and swift eradication of bandits, with a large graying beard to match his crop of iron-colored hair. He asked in a booming voice, rough and guttural, "What are the symptoms of that poison?" Lazare, his pudgy face blushing slightly, said, "Oh yes, of course, the symptoms. Instant fainting, swelling of the throat and tongue as well. If it kills, it kills through asphyxiation." Lord Estermont sat down, nodding as if to open the floor again, and to express his satisfaction with the answer. Another man rose, this time from Aleron's side. Theodore didn't recognize him, although he knew by the leaping dolphins sigil he belonged to the Aric family, allied to Wayrest. "Well, what did the healers say? Were his symptoms the same as those describe by the alchemists?" Cries of "Here here," and "Aye," emanated from the right side of the table, until Joslin again rapped her cane to restore order. "The healers are busy healing others, but I have a sworn statement from several of them describing Lord Adrard's symptoms. Here, pass it down, and you may inspect it as you wish," Joslin produced the letter from her evidence bag, passing it down the aisle to her right. Most everyone looked it over, all of them finding that those symptoms were indeed the ones Theodore had. Lord Ryger, Theo's nephew from Farrun, stood next, this time addressing Aleron. "So, King Rolston, the obvious question is did you do it?" Aleron, sunk down in the throne, looked up, his eyes morose and face downcast. "I didn't. Why would I...I didn't do it, I don't care what al these people say, I didn't do it!" his emotions got the better of him, as he tried to break out of the chains, screaming, "I didn't do it!" repeatedly. No one else rose after his outburst, and the hall grew awkwardly quiet, until Lady Gaerhart rose from her chair, looking at both sides of the table before speaking. "Seeing no more questions, we will now put the matter to vote. As per our custom, a member from every noble family will rise to place their families' vote. As I conducted the trial, I will abstain from voting. So, all those that believe King Rolston is not guilty, please rise," as Joslin said that, most of the right side of the table rose. "All those abstaining from the vote," a few stood up, most prominently Lord Louise Traven of Northpoint, off to the far left on his own table. "All those in favor of a guilty verdict," the entirety of the left side of the table rose, as did a few from the right. The votes were officially tallied, and of the total votes over half were of the guilty kind, so Lady Gaerhart announced, "With the majority finding King Aleron Rolston guilty, he is hereby stripped of his lands and titles, and sentenced to public execution!" Her voice echoed around the hall, but it was soon swept away by the riotous furor Aleron's supporters displayed. Arguing ensued, and Joslin was forced to call in guards to quell the nobles. Aleron, ghostly pale, was escorted back to his cell to await his death, never uttering a single word, so shocked was he. Theodore, surprisingly quiet during the hearing, quickly left, a look of smug satisfaction covering his face. ** It appeared as if the entirety of Daggerfall turned out for this unheralded, unprecedented event. Never before in recent Breton memory had a king been executed. No, that was something the barbaric Nords did, not the sophisticated citizens of High Rock. And yet here they gathered, like moths to a flame, watching from the very same places they'd stood days before at Aleron Rolston's coronation. The irony was not lost on Theodore, who hired the same handsome priest to give the victims his last rights, and sat the nobles in the very same fashion as before, although many of Aleron's supporters had gone home. The banners, formerly the roses of Rolston, now were the proud, stubborn, strong bulls of Adrard. Not only was this an execution, but also a coronation, one not near extravagant as the last however. With the end of Aleron brought the beginning of Theodore, as the crown passed to the next male, this case being Theodore. The soon to be king stood proudly, clad in the armor that a few days prior had watched over him in silent vigil, it's tough silver colored chest plate more than adequate protection. His greatsword stood tip down, as his balanced it with arm outstretched. Two guards stood behind him, the convicted murderer shackled between them. The crowd hushed instantly as Aleron was pushed into a kneeling position, and Theodore read the crimes out loud. "For the acts of conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to commit kinslaying, and assault, the nobility of High Rock hereby find Aleron Rolston guilty of all accounts." The mob burst into derisive, harsh boos, almost thunder like in their sound. This, the same crowd that had expressed their undying love for Aleron at his coronation now cried out for his execution. Theodore passed off the parchment from which he read the verdict, launching into a well prepared speech. It seemed the fat man had not been idle while laid up in bed these past few days. "I stand before you today filled with sorrow, that one I regarded as kin chose a most dishonorable path. To try and assassinate ones brother, whether that brother be by marriage or blood, is a cowardly deed," Theodore looked sorrowfully at the man, or at least that's how the crowd saw him. "I loved you, and you return this love by poisoning my drink, a drink that I toasted you with. Had I died, it most certainly would not have been from the wound of body, but the wound of spirit, knowing that this devious act was sanctioned by my dearest brother. And yet, here we stand before this monster, a killer whose attack upon me may not be the first." Several members of the crowd looked confused, as they could not recall any other misdeeds by the ex-king. Theodore continued anyway, pushing on. If you would recall, Lord Aleron was next in line to the throne, when my poor father in law became suddenly ill. I have reason to believe this was not a coincidence, but treason by this bastard! And he sought to kill me, knowing well I could piece together his plot. But both his plans were foiled, and he shall receive the justice he deserves." That last part, complete and utter hogwash, made perfect sense. Yes, of course this man who'd just tried to kill his brother-in-law might've been behind the last king's death, which was much more likely than a Daedric plague or whatever craziness was reported. Not only had this man tried to kill Lord Adrard, but he killed the last king! The realization that Theo's story, while fake, was very probable caused the crowd to cry out, jeers and boos aimed solely at Aleron. A few objects were throne, none of them close, but all signified the hatred the mob felt for this man. Theodore continued, "And so, while my heart is heavy at taking a life, I know that it shall be for the benefit of all High Rock that I do!" The peasants below threw forth the greatest cheer they could must, growing even louder as the crown as placed on Theo's shining bald head. Aleron was pushed to his knees, where King Adrard bent down to say his final words. Aleron spit as close as he could to Theo, almost hitting him. "You'll never, never get away with this. I have allies, and my wife is out there raising a host to strike you down, you King-of-Lard!" Theodore just chuckled, shaking his head. "They'll be dealt with soon enough, don't you worry. It's all been accounted for, don't you see, you never had a chance." The King of High Rock rose, gripping his claymore in two hands. Raising it above his head, the sunlight glinted off beautifully, until the quick swing severed Aleron Rolston's head from his body, blood soaking the formerly glittering blade in a metallic smelling, crimson mess of gore. The commoners of High Rock exploded into cheers, while Theodore Adrard watched proudly from his perch, soaking it in. ** Joslin was in her library, the great congregation of nobles having cleared out the day before. She was rather pleased with the events that had transpired, although that wretch of a daughter Lielle was still on the loose. It mattered little really, as the plan was a success with or without her capture. This way it was much more interesting, the queen not yet off the chessboard. Of course, this former queen was nothing to scoff at either. Frail of body, but not of mind, she sat alone in her library, reading over the letters her bannermen had sent, the Gondwyn and Mon family most prominently, as both held the two duchies in her lands. She heard a slight scuffle from her right, back towards the shadows, the exact spot the Dark Brotherhood assassin hid before speaking to Theo. Lady Gaerhart gripped her cane and rose, spinning lightly around to face said shadow. A grin could be seen stepping out from the darkness, a large blade in hand. "Poor ol'lady, all alone in 'ere. I got paid a 'andsome coin to kill you, an' then the fat lord an' his b*tch wife. But you first," the reeking of filth assassin said, creeping towards Joslin. Her face twitched not the slightest, as she brought up her cane in firing position and pressed the largest jewel, causing a lever to release the coil spring that in turn fired a crossbow bolt into the man's chest, dropping him dead in his tracks. She left the library, a half-smile on her face, telling the guards on her way out to take care of the mess.

Part One Theodore Adrard Daggerfall Morning Black curtains hung over the slit-like windows,casting a dark shadow over the bedroom. Like a silent warrior, standing a watchful vigil, the large armor of Theodore Adrard watched from the corner, an empty shell. The obsidian banners, adjourned with the brown bull's head with fiery eyes of the Adrard family watched over the room and it's occupants, the crimson pupils seemingly following your every move. The pale body of Theodore Adrard lay propped up by several pillows, much as King Gaerhart's had been only a few days earlier. Elayne clutched her husband's hand, the grief written all over her face. Opposite her stood King Rolston, a somewhat smug frown his only expression. Queen Rolston had the gall to smirk, watching the fat man struggle for life. Joslin Gaerhart stood at the end of the bed, her elderly frame bent over a smooth birch cane, encrusted with various jewels. The sly old woman looked rather grumpy, as if the illness that betook her son-in-law had inconvenienced her in some way. Roland Adrard stood behind his mother, hand placed carefully on her shoulder. All stood in silence for some minutes, before a servant ushered in and whispered something in the king's ear, causing both him and the queen to leave, as if on some royal business. Most likely the whole thing was staged, the couple having ordered someone to come and get them if they stayed in there too long. Once the door shut, Lady Gaerhart shuffled over to the door and twisted the lock, ensuring their privacy. The second the lock clicked, Theodore bolted awake, shaking off the faux illness. He had been poisoned yes, but the effects only lasted a few hours, as per his directions. The rest was acting, enough to make a mummer jealous. Joslin's free hand began to glow a sickly green color, then she waved it around until a film of magic covered the entire room, muffling any sounds. Elayne dropped her husband's hand and the grieving look, as did her son. Theodore cleared his throat, as one was accustomed to do after not talking for some time. "It seems we have them firmly believing I am on my way out!" Theo exclaimed, his face beaming. Had a layer of pale makeup not covered his face, his cheeks would be flush with excitement. He turned the smiling face to his son, who returned the gesture. "Roland, my dear boy, what have you gathered?" the fat man quizzed his son. "Most of the nobles not friendly with him seem to think that Aleron is behind it, although no one has any proof. At least, that's what most of their daughters believe," a pompous grin stretched across his face, while his mother shot Theodore a venomous glance. "You had our son sleep around with the Lord's daughters? And to get information from them?" Elayne was slightly exasperated, thinking to herself that her husband had no limits to depths he would go. Joslin laughed, her voice still strong and hearty even in her advanced age, but high pitched nonetheless. "Oh please honey, he's just using the boy's talents to his benefit. Quite clever actually. So tighten that dress and see if you can't use your assets to benefit us as well." Both Elayne and Roland blushed heavily, while Theodore just grinned at their obvious embarrassment. "And I expect you'll be using my talents as well, son," Joslin said matter-of-factly. Theodore's grin grew even larger, as he said, "I'm sure you could convince someone to search our dear king's quarters, where it wouldn't surprise me if they found a vial of poison, half empty." "Hmph, I'll find someone. Can't do it myself, too obvious. Your nephew either, or any of us. I'll start the search soon," Theo's mother in law said, her smile revealing she still had a full set of teeth, although how many were hers couldn't be said. Elayne looked expectedly at her husband, waiting for her orders. "And what do I need to do?" she asked. "Nothing, play the part of the soon-to-be-widow and we'll have this kingdom," Theo said, clasping his wife's hands in his. "Roland, continue your information gathering, and if you have to, move up the...erhm...food chain if you will. I'm sure you could find a lonely Lady that wants some attention. Just don't get caught," Theo winked at his son, who nodded his assent, then turned and quickly left through the door, probably to fulfill an 'appointment.' Lady Gaerhart left right behind him, the tapping of her can echoing in the room until the door shut, the muffle spell still in place. Elayne and Theodore stayed, as it would look strangely odd for the suspected soon-to-be-widow to leave her husband's side. Suddenly, Joslin burst right back into, her face determined yet happy. "We're fools, you fat man! There's no need to find someone to search the room, we already have her! And by her, I mean that lovely handmaiden on our payroll! It was so obvious...I'll give her the orders, and by tomorrow we should have our man," she said quickly, before ushering out much faster than one would've expected, all before either Theo or Elayne could say a word. ** "Darling, which dress do you prefer? For the fat fool's funeral? If he isn't dead now he should be soon, and good riddance I say. But, which dress should I wear? The charcoal one with white sash, or the jet one with white scarf?" Lielle Rolston asked, while her handmaiden Anya combed her hair. The brush stuck a little, and when Anya pulled it caused Lielle to yell out in pain. "You wretch, I should have you thrown off a cliff for that. I didn't say to stop. It's so hard to find good help, I swear. Now you can stop, and go get me my jewelry box." Anya set the comb down gently, walking over to a wardrobe and pulling out a drawer. She glanced over at the king, who sat on his bed reading. She grabbed the jewelry box, when a vial underneath it caught her eye. "What's this?" Anya asked, although she knew very well just what it was. Aleron knew too, his face growing pale as the realization hit him. While not guilty, one could not tell my looking at him, as a cold sweat started to form, and his skin grew visibly ghost-like. "I know what this looks like, but-" Before he could finish, Anya took off, bolting out the door and into the hallway. Aleron have chase, yelling out for guards to stop her. One tried to trip her with a spear, but she hurdled it easily. As she rounded a corner, in her way stood Joslin Gaerhart, slowly making her way down the hall. "Oh, what is it honey?" she asked innocently, and about that time Aleron burst around the corner. "Thief, stop her!" he cried, panic filling his voice. "And what is it she stole?" the old lady asked. "Well, she, uh, didn't exactly steal it, because it isn't mine, but-" "Yet you call her a thief all the same. What is it?" her voice was mean and hard, full of conviction. "This," Anya said, dropping the vial into the outstretched hand of the former queen. Holding it up in the torch light, the bluish liquid danced around in the glass vial, before Joslin quickly pocketed it. Aleron trembled, his arm bracing against the wall. "Guards," cried the elderly woman, "arrest this man, on the charges of attempted murder. Take him away. Two of you, follow me." Two guards glanced at each other warily, then back to Lady Gaerhart, but decided to listen to her. They grabbed Aleron on either side, while another pair followed the hunched over lady back to the royal couple's room. Much to Joslin's surprise, it was empty, Lielle Roslton nowhere to be found. "Search the castle, quickly, I want her found now," she said, stomping her cane at the word now, in case the message wasn't clear. Joslin hurried over to Theo's room, bursting in as she usually did, Anya in tow. "Aleron is imprisoned, but Lielle is missing. She may have caught wind of what was happening and fled I'm afraid." Theo frowned, his finger twirling the end of his impressive mustache. "Damn it, so close to perfection. We've got him, that's all that matters. It's best I stay in bed a while longer, don't want this to look suspicious. Keep me updated, if you will," Theodore asked, to which Lady Gaerhart nodded, then left with Anya in tow. A few hours later, a guard knocked on the door, and Elayne allowed him entrance. "Ma'am, we could find no sign of your sister. Your Lady mother also told me that the trial has been set for tomorrow, after lunch. The nobles have been informed, as well," the Breton man said, his face betraying no emotion. "Thank you, you may go," Theo said, his voice falsely weak and quiet. The man bowed, then turned on his heels and left. ** Alix Vette sat pouring over the charts, deep in the heart of Camlorn's keep. Almost all the families had finished assembling their hosts, per the letter Theodore sent his Captain of the Guard. Alix's own family, the Vettes, were marching their forces to Camlorn at this very moment, with the Theirrys set to leave the next day. The same was happening in Daggerfall, and Farrun, the lands most closely allied with Theodore. War was inevitable, Theo had seen, so his men were set to be prepared before Aleron's supporters could even return home. No better way to beat an enemy than before he can even field and army. That wouldn't be the case here, but the sooner one could prepare the better. So ships were being built, along with spears and swords and armor, all in advance preparation of the upcoming conflict that most assumed was the next Great War. So Alix continued looking over the maps, checking to see which Wrothgarian passes were clear and which ones to avoid, all per Theodore's orders, wondering how a man so jolly at times could also be so deviously clever, and downright menacing.

Rebec, Baldur, Gracchus (Celan, Colonelkillabee, BTCollins) Sentinel Palace 9 a.m. Vilnur's two boys got up early that day to knock on Rebec and Baldur's door to get him to train them as he promised, so he was already up and ready since almost six in the morning. Before Baldur, Menel and Rebec got out of the Villa gates, Falgrum came and intercepted them, insisting that the two bring an entourage of guards. Baldur insisted that he was overreacting, but Falgrum wouldn't hear any of it, saying that it was Ulfric's orders and that he was to keep a guard on them as much as possible. Eventually Falgrum got Baldur to agree on at least taking him along with them. The markets were crowded with people, but they parted for the group rather easily, since it was clear the group was military. Already as they walked between the hustle and bustle of the market area, Baldur could see Castle Sentinel's large brass dome surrounded by four obelisks in the distance. As they neared closer, a crowd of Redguards suddenly started yelling in agitation and running around them towards some scuffle to the right. An Imperial imported foods merchant was freaking out, and Baldur could see that a Redguard was slinking around on the ground like a snake trying to bite at the man's ankles. The crowd was laughing at the two, knowing the man was just a harmless snake worshiper probably from Alik'r, but the guards didn't find it so humorous. Five robbed men with Dwemer metal spears came to break it up, poking and prodding at the man with the blunt end of their weapons. The old Redguard snake worshiper just hissed at them angrily and tripped one of them by wrapping an arm around his leg and slithering up to his face, where he licked his cheek with a flickering tongue, getting another laugh from the crowd before the other guards hauled him up and dragged him to the city limits to kick him out. Baldur had no idea what to make of the sight, but he was already enjoying the trip, getting a good laugh from the situation. "Haha, Shor approves! I heard some of those snake guys even shed their skin..." "Hammerfell, where the only thing weirder than the weird creatures are the people," Rebec said, observing the whole thing with wry amusement. "The sand rats don't come in to the city very often. I wonder if someone sent that one purposely to provoke the guard. They may be looking for reasons to fight each other again. Or should I say still." Suri was also accompanying them, clad in her finest armor and silk headdress. She did not appear amused at the display, and said tersely, "I'm sorry about this, Uncle. We needn't delay ourselves for such spectacle." Baldur replied in an insouciant manner, "Bah, I'd hardly consider it something to apologize for, this is why we're here! To bask in the culture, to observe. That was really something. I take it you don't like them, Suri?" "Whatever one's beliefs, they are private and shouldn't be inflicted on other people in such a manner. Acting like a beast does no one any good." "Well, that much is true. But unless he starts rounding up people and torturing them for it, I don't mind. I can understand your feelings though. It's embarrassing when outsiders are exposed to certain aspects of one's culture you're not proud of." Rebec put an arm around her niece's shoulder. "Don't worry so much, Suri. You saw a lot of Nords acting dumb as horkers when you were in Skyrim. We won't wilt seeing a few oddities." The young woman nodded and relaxed a little. She hadn't realized how uptight she was. It wasn't just the odd display in the market that worried her. Far greater challenges to redguard-outsider relations lay ahead of them, she knew. Falgrum stayed quiet during the whole scene, keeping an eye on anyone who may have tried to use the opportunity to pickpocket one of them. He saw more than one of the Redguards gawking at his Nordic Carved greatsword on his back over his Stormcloak sash in a leather holder. A khajiit was paying especially long attention to them, and Falgrum could have sworn he saw the cat's eye twitch with glee. All of them were carrying top grade equipment, from Rebec's fancy gold trimmings and Kyne's Talon, to Baldur's shiny silver ancient armor and Suri's armor as well, advertising they had coin. So he was relieved when they finally cleared from the market area and stepped into the circle shaped district covered in sandstone towards the front of Castle Citadel. One of the guards was eying him, not liking the way he was holding his pommel, ready to draw if needed. Falgrum didn't care and just eyed him back. Baldur, who was much less worried about some threat was excited to finally see the Castle up close. All around were militia men doubling as palace district guards, patrolling the area while citizens walked around getting from one part of the city to another, some of them just coming from ports. As they neared, Baldur could see men in robes but with a lot of armor covering them as well, and remembered that the Redguards had a lot of knight orders and figured these guys must have been one of them. Before they got too far in, a group of these knights came to them now to greet them. One of the men Baldur assumed was their leader had a weird looking almost cone shaped radiant blue helmet, as if it was made from the inside of a sea shell, with large eyes on it that seemed to be closed covering most of his face but the bottom mouth. "You are the ones from Skyrim, yes?" "We're the Skyrim delegation, yes," Rebec answered, making the introductions around. "Here to see the governor." "Jeleen Sendu's obviously been expecting you. Some Imperial's inside the Palace trying to get entry as well. Better follow me," said the guard. "Who?" asked Baldur. "I don't know his name, I was told to watch for you, so I wasn't introduced. You'll see him soon enough." "Some imp complaining about the tax on milk," Rebec guessed, grinning. To Baldur's surprise, the knight captain actually laughed when he did at the joke. It seemed that Redguards enjoyed Imperial jokes as well. After they walked up the stone steps and entered into the large sandstone dome, Baldur could hear the Imperial talking in front of the colossal brass doors that lead into the governor's palace room. A long black cloaked touched the smooth stone floor, and the crimson dragon on the back signified it was of Imperial make. Golden clasps with similar dragons hooked it to a set of Imperial general's armor, a golden chest plate carved intricately with golden flourishes. It ended in an armored skirt, stretching down to the knees, where a pair of gold greaved boots met just below. From the belt hung a calvary saber, just as embellished in design. The wearer of the general's armor stood arms crossed, his brow wrinkled beneath a crop of silvery gray hair. While the Stormcloaks were within earshot, they need not be to tell the Imperial's mood, as it was obvious from his stance that he was irate at not being allowed entrance to the palace. "As I've already told you, I'm am a royal emissary of Empress Motierre, as the paper you have in you hands clearly states. I'm not sure what the hold up could possibly be," Gracchus said with exasperated annoyance. "The hold up, Imperial, is that Jeleen has not arranged for an appointment with you yet. He is expecting company. You will have to wait," said the guard, equally irritable at the moment. "You Imperials always expect others to jump when you say jump. Typical." "It's not that...I apologize, it just I expected the bureaucrats on my end to send notice, and it seems they've failed." Gracchus rubbed his temples, tired of the arguing and ready to be done with this mission. "If you can talk to Jeleen and set me up an appointment, I would appreciate it. Sorry for the inconvenience, I'll be going back to-," Gracchus was turning to walk back towards his hotel when he caught sight of the Nord group, and the shock was evident when his jaw literally dropped, but he quickly straightened it out back to his usual stern look. Rebec stopped in her tracks and stood rooted, staring at the legionnaire who was arguing with the palace guard. It was none other than Gracchus Ceno, battlemage and sinker of ships. After getting over her momentary shock, her tone turned bitter. "Now that just figures." Instinctively her fists balled up, the same instinct that seized her at their meeting in Falkreath. Gracchus strode toward the group, careful to approach the side opposite the Nordic Admiral. He respectfully bowed his head slightly while standing in front of Baldur, and as he lifted it glanced at Rebec to make sure she wasn't about to attack him. "General Red-Snow. I presume your mission is the same as mine, although it appears to be much more successful," at that comment he eyed the Redguard escort, but then turned his attention back to the Northmen. Baldur eyed Rebec to see if she showed signs of attack, then said, "Uh, right. This is why we should do better communicating. See, it doesn't look good on us if we're seen negotiating with you. No offense to you, it just makes it look like we're..." "Under your command," said the guard from before talking with Gracchus. "Before they entered, I was going to tell you your bureaucrats already tried arranging a meeting for you. Jeleen just ignored it. He probably doesn't want the Nords being seen around you, because he knows the politics. He wants you to succeed, believe it or not. But for that to happen, the alliance with the Nords has to be established first. So far, their alliance is just with us in Sentinel, not with the Crowns. And as you know, the Crowns dislike you even more than we do...uh, did." Baldur looked behind Gracchus at the man who spoke, then back to Gracchus. "Right. What he said. Why did you Imperials take this specific time to come anyway? Your empress didn't trust us or something?" Baldur said this in a joking tone, then smirked. "Oh uh, completely understandable. Personally, I know nothing besides the directive to establish an alliance. The time was none of my choosing, so your guess is as good as mine." Gracchus folded his arms before continuing. "I have heard some good things from Skyrim. Former student of mine is your queen apparently. Veleda was a good girl, and an even better mage. Our luck has not been so good, however. Tullius was executed, the High Admiral lost at sea, plus a host of other problems. Now I'm tasked with ensuring an alliance with people who hate us. I'll be glad when war is the only issue I have to deal with," a half-smile crossed his lips after the war comment, but quickly faded. Rebec had moved from balled fists to the only slightly less hostile crossed arms. "Tullius on the block, eh? That's the only good news I've gotten in a long time. And just watch how you talk about our 'good girl', Gracchus Ceno." She was about to say more, but after a pause said, "What's this about your admiral being lost?" "If you'll believe it, all the reports say they were attacked by a sea serpent. The flagship went down, and him with it. Sad really, he had only been appointed right after our conflict, but he did institute a raiding system that has made the Thalmor bleed. As for Tullius, he was incited in a rebellion along with one Jon Hard-Heart, a former general. Skjari did it, right before he hunted Jon down with Balgruuf and killed him too," Gracchus still watched Rebec wearily, but was happy she didn't seem to hate him enough to ignore him entirely. "What in the hell...well, can't say I'm too surprised. No offense, but when you put a little girl on the throne, good things aren't likely to happen. I didn't expect Tullius of all people to be rebelling. Why did Balgruuf get involved?" asked Baldur. "We didn't have much choice at the time. It was either her or Amaund. Lesser of two...well you get it," Gracchus avoided saying 'evils' although it was clearly what he meant. "Balgruuf stopped Jon from heading to Skyrim incidentally, he was trying to join your ranks. Lot of lives lost, mostly his men's, but we couldn't have traitors trying to escape with an entire army, of course." Baldur raised an eyebrow and gave Gracchus a look of peculiarity. "He was trying to join our ranks? Didn't he know we were allied? What was he rebelling for anyway now of all times? Must have been mighty convincing if the Tullius sided with him." Gracchus shrugged, and his face contorted into a quizzical look. "Hell if I know. I only heard about it through a letter, so I'm missing some very important details. But, enough if our troubles, how's Skyrin doing? You've been promoted to High General I heard." "Besides a war with the Forsworn, we're doing okay. It's really to thin their ranks now while we're strong, then establish a bigger presence in the Reach to push them out. As for me, yea I was promoted. Needed the authority to match the responsibility I was given. Redguards wouldn't negotiate with me as a nation unless I carried the weight of Ulfric's voice myself. Speaking of, we should probably go see this governor. I'll have him call you in eventually before we leave, since we should all be speaking anyway." "Well congratulations. I appreciate the help, and I'm glad that our alliance isn't just words, but actions as well. Thank you, and good luck with the Redguards," Gracchus bowed again, then went to a nearby bench and sat down. He pulled out a small book from a pouch on his right, and began to read. Rebec shook her head in disbelief when they heard that Tullius, of all people, had participated in a rebellion with a Stormcloak sympathizer. "You never can tell about imps. Crazy bastards," she muttered to Baldur, keeping her eye on Gracchus as he walked away. "And they say they're the civilized ones." Turning back to the palace guard, she said, "Our apologies for the delay. That was... an old sparring partner, you might say. We don't want to keep the governor waiting." "I know who he is," said the guardsman with an angry expression. "You weren't the only ones who lost people in that little civil war of yours. Jodun was well known around these parts." The guardsman didn't elaborate further as he and another Redguard opened the tall double doors for the two to enter. "The governor will see you at his dining table." "Much obliged." Rebec glanced at her ring, the serpent ring that Jodun had given her. It hadn't tasted Thalmor blood in a while. Not enough to pay back what was owed. In another way, however, what they were doing was just as important. It didn't take long to spot this Jeleen character, as he could clearly be seen sitting a long table with brass colored coverings amongst a big assortment of foods, mostly roasted meats. Baldur didn't need more incentive to get a move on and be seated, but the old fat man gave him one anyway with his booming welcoming baritone voice. The light skinned Redguard's balding head was clearly visible hovering over a slab of lamb meat as he started without him on the meal he prepared for their arrival. "Ah, finally! Welcome to Castle Sentinel, Northerners. Please, partake!" Suri stood looking around, waiting for someone to announce them, but the stewards were busy bringing out more food and there didn't seem to be a herald. She hadn't ever been to the palace, either, and hadn't expected it to be so informal. The Nords didn't need any prompting. Rebec took a chair near the governor, noticing that the guards eyed her closely. Forebear they might be, but they still didn't trust foreigners completely. It had been that sort of era. "Thank you for the welcome, sir," the admiral said, repeating their introductions. When she got to Suri, she said, "This one is your subject and my niece. She fought beside us in the Battle of Pale Pass." "Suri al Falani, your excellency." The redguard bowed and took the seat next to Rebec. The governor took note of Suri to watch what he did and didn't say, then gave her a great smile with his large mouthy grin as Baldur took a seat next to Rebec. Baldur looked around at all the food and laughed. He's pleasant now, but wait till he sees what Menel does to the food. "Suri al Falani. I know of your parents. Good to meet you, all of you. I won't keep you too long, we just need to get certain things out of the way first," Jeleen said. "We're ready to talk business, sir," Rebec agreed. "Rumor has it some of your people aren't happy with the help the Ra Gada gave to us in our war. First, let me say thank you for that support. It was crucial." "Right, your most welcome, although I must confess I was more looking for a chance to get back at the Empire and Thalmor rather than helping your people. But that's clearly changed now. I must thank all of you now, for this alliance has provided me with a...most rare opportunity." Baldur didn't like the pause in his voice, and sensed that he was getting to something shady. "What opportunity is that?" he asked. Jeleen put a hand around his fist then rested his chin on it while he looked at Rebec, then back to Baldur. "Just how much authority has your Ulfric given this young man?" Rebec bristled. "Baldur? He's High General now, with the same authority as Galmar Stone-Fist who's Ulfric's right-hand man. And a personal friend of Ulfric as well. You may have heard he saved him from dragon fire. Speak your mind, then." Jeleen let out a scoff at the dragonfire comment, taking it as Nord exaggeration. "Right. Well, a right hand man may not be able to handle what it is I'm suggesting." "I'm High General. I have Galmar's authority, but I've also been granted authority to speak for Ulfric in our dealings. You may as well pretend I'm him for the remainder of our visit. We've went over all scenarios that I may be put in and I'm allowed to make whatever decision I think is in his best interest. That's exactly what he said, verbatim." "Then I'll stop wasting your time, then," the governor said with another big smile in his deep voice. "This alliance provides as I said, a big opportunity for the people of Hammerfell. We're united, for us anyway, but we're not under the authority of one leader. We'll need that so that this person can speak for all of Hammerfell when dealing with you and the Imperials in this alliance, assuming you can get the Crowns on board. If you do, I'd like you to push the idea of me being that leader." "Hold on a second," Baldur said, in disbelief. "You want me to help make you a High King? What, you think I have some secret to resolving civil wars?" "You misunderstood me, young man. I want you to push the idea of me being the speaker of the Hammerfell people; you don't have the authority to do anything but that. Well...not by yourself anyway. If I have the power to negotiate for Hammerfell....the rest will take care of itself, because the Crowns will need to answer to the Forebears." "And they're just going to roll over and let you do that," Rebec said skeptically. "You know the Crowns' objections as well as I do. They'll say you spoke for them for years, telling them to trust the empire, and look how that turned out. They'll say it's their turn. If we go to them and say that this is what we want, it'll go over even more poorly, because we'll be foreigners telling them how to run their affairs. No offense, sir, but you ought to re-think that strategy." "That's where your High Admiral and High General statuses come in, young lady. And is the real crux of my position. If I agree to this alliance, a full alliance, I want your word that if they say no, that your government will support us, as we've supported you. With military force. Even if they don't surrender when severely outnumbered, they'll be forced to eventually with us helping. You'll have your alliance, I'll have my kingdom, and what's more, I'll even support Skyrim as the leader of this new alliance when the time comes. That's a pretty damn good deal, son. I'll even throw in some Ra Gada to help with your Forsworn problem." "This sounds mighty familiar," said Baldur. "As it should. Our advantage over the Crowns has always been our willingness to negotiate with the outsiders," said the governor. "All the good that did recently." Falgrum said. The governor, not having paid attention to what he considered the help, didn't appreciate the comment and looked as if he was about to say something in anger. "Falgrum, speak out of turn again, and my boot will be placed in your ass, do you hear me?" said Baldur, while still looking at Jeleen. Falgrum was embarrassed and caught off guard, as Baldur was normally easy going, but he nodded and kept quiet. "Yessir, High General." "Good. Now, let's talk about this," said Baldur. "So, you do have this authority? To grant this promise?" said Jeleen. Rebec glanced at Baldur. "Military aid goes without saying. A mutual defense treaty is what we all need most of all. The rest of it, trade and the like, can be worked out after that. What we all have in common- you, us, Crowns, Alik'r, and the imperials- is a need to oppose the Dominion threat wherever it may fall. This other thing, your leading the Ra Gada, that's not our place to decide. We'd be hypocrites to get involved in that when we fought a war with the imperials over the idea that Nords should be allowed to rule ourselves as we see fit." "Being a hypocrite and alive is better than honorable and dead. Hypocrites or not, you'll need my vote to lead this alliance, and you need our help," Jeleen said. Baldur was staying quiet for the moment, as if weighing what was said. "You do have this authority, yes?" After a moment's pause, Baldur finally said, "Yes, I do. Ulfric wanted all possibilities open to me. If I agree, he'll heed my council." "Well then, when it comes to being hypocrites or losing, which would you choose? Without the help of the Forebears first, there is no alliance," said Jeleen. "Admiral?" "You're saying that the condition for your help against the Dominion is that we support your bid for king of the Ra Gada?" Rebec is evidently unimpressed at this notion. "This is just the sort of games I hoped we could avoid. Survival leaves no room for politics. You tell us how you plan to win over the Crowns and the Alik'r to your kingship. To having a High King at all." Jeleen said, "It's simple. I know the politics here. The Ra Gada are proud people, but what they recognize more than anything is strength. That is how Tiber Septim gained our province in the first place. All you have to do is flex some of that Nord muscle in our behalf, and the others will fold. I'll say it's for their best, because we need a strong single leader to represent our people in the alliance against the witch elves, and the rest will take care of itself. A few won't stand for it, but they won't last. The difference between Tiber Septim and you is that you will have a more noble reason to give them when platforming this. In the name of killing Thalmor. If you want us to commit men to you, you must demonstrate you are willing to do the same. Do you both need time to think it over?" Rebec nodded. "I think we should, though you're leaving us little choice. Our commitment also doesn't mean much until we know where things stand with your other factions." Politics made to ruin her appetite, though Menel was already tucking in to the meats on hand. The admiral glanced at her husband again. "That's my opinion anyway. What do you say, Baldur?" Baldur stood up and slammed his hands on the table. "No." Looking puzzled, the governor said, "No...what? No, you don't need more time to think or..." "No, I mean...no. I refuse your offer. That's that. Come on everyone, let's go." Baldur looked at the governor in disgust, then began to walk away. Jeleen immediately stood up and called after him. "That's it? A no? No wiggle room, no negotiating?" Baldur turned around now, regarding Jeleen before he spoke. "I don't know what no means in these parts, but no in Skyrim is clear. I will not tell other men how to live their lives, especially not for you. I came here to promote unity and stability among the human provinces, at least for a time so that we can show those elves what we say to men who do exactly what it is you're asking me to do now. I will not offer peace in one hand while holding a dagger behind my back in the other. I'm no politician. There can be no lasting alliance built off of weak foundations. The Thalmor would exploit that easier than a drunken maid in a brothel. If that's the only way that you will accept an alliance, then I suppose we're all dead. Let's go everyone." Rebec was surprised at the vehemence in Baldur's reaction, but she worked not to show it. She gave Jeleen a shrewd look. "Maybe you've lived under the empire too long, governor, wanting to make the sort of deals that they do. You forgot that we're Stormcloaks." Suri was hesitating, wanting to say something, but Rebec elbowed her to silence and got to her feet. "You heard the man. Menel, let go that drumstick." "Pfft, waste of time, waste of a trip," Baldur said under his breath. He walked off a good distance from the table and waited for the others to come so they could speak in private. Falgrum caught up first. "Sir, can I say something?" "Speak." Baldur said angrily. He clearly wasn't in a good mood. "If you don't mind me saying, considering our situation and the deal he offered, don't you think Ulfric would have wanted you to accept it?" "Perhaps. But then, he should have come himself." "I was trying to appear to give him something even though we made no commitment," Rebec said. "I guess you favored the direct approach. It'll be quite the irony if we make out better on this trip with the Crowns than with the Forebears." "Indeed. I have no time to deal with maybes. There's too much riding on this. If a civil war were to spark in Hammerfell over this crap, or even worse, the Crowns side against us for this, then that's worse than no alliance. Suri, you look like you want to say something," said Baldur. Suri appeared more thoughtful than agitated. "The fact is, we do need a king. Skyrim has one. It doesn't have to be the governor, but is there someone better? The empire spoke for us before. Nobody wants that again, but we would benefit from unity." "It's none of our business. The best thing that I can do for Hammerfell is to allow their people to select their own High King, if that is what they want. The Empire didn't allow us that same courtesy, so Ulfric had to force himself to the throne instead. They have another choice. They don't need a king to negotiate with us, just an ambassador who will lead their armies. Like me. Who are we to decide who will rule them? We're not building an Empire, we're building an alliance." Suri nodded. "You're right, of course. It was improper of him to ask that of you. It lacks courage, as well. If he wants to lead, he should earn the right to do so on his own merits." The Redguard looked over at her aunt. "You might be surprised at the Crowns, Aunt Rebec. They understand the value of being left alone. But, they mistrust outsiders, and Skyrim didn't earn favor by not sending help when the Ra Gada faced the Dominion alone." "They're fools if they expected anything from us, our forces were devastated. Our soldiers were in the Legion, all we could send would be militia, and for what purpose? To be destroyed by the Legion later? The Empire wouldn't allow such a thing, for the same reason Ulfric was arrested after freeing Markarth for Talos worship. It would have broken the WGC," said Baldur. "All that sounds like excuses," Rebec pointed out, to which Suri ruefully nodded. "Let's go back to the house. Give the governor a day or two to think things over. Maybe he'll change his mind. I'd like to be able to say that Sentinel is behind our effort. If not, one way or another, we move on to the Alik'r. Or the southern port cities, who ought to be motivated to keep the Thalmor off their backs." Baldur would have laughed if he was in a better mood. "Excuses my ass, they didn't have the Empire holding the leash. Whatever." Instead of continuing the conversation, he walked ahead to leave the room. The two guards from before were standing in front of the door. "Let us pass," he said. The guards looked to each other, then stepped aside. But when Baldur reached for the door, the guards crossed their spears to block him from leaving. Rebec began following, but stopped as it appeared the guards would block them. She cast each one a sharp glance. "What do you think you're doing? You don't want to start this." Falgrum had his blade half drawn while Baldur put a hand on his axe, but the guards didn't seem troubled. One of them signaled with a head tilt to look behind them. When Baldur did, he could see the governor's giant frame hobbling over. "Wait wait, calm yourselves. I have something to tell you all. Come, sit back at the table why don't you?" Warily Rebec turned back and approached the governor. "You got something better than your starting offer, excellency?" "There was no offer. It was a test." The governor walked back to the table, figuring they would follow. Baldur looked at him dubiously the entire time, but started eating while he did. Politics made him hungry. "What test?" "To see just how far you would go to gain our help, and to see if you could be trusted. The Crowns aren't the only ones worried about you being with the Empire. Not dealing like them's a good sign you won't backstab us like the Empire did." Rebec stood with hands on her hips. "Nice game. I hope from now on you'll be playing it straight. If you know Nords, you know that's how we do things." "Oh I noticed; Torygg's a testament to that. Which is why Nords aren't exactly known for politics, no offense." "None taken, believe me." Baldur said. After taking a big satisfying chomp from a piece of lamb, he said, "Now what?" "Now? Now we get you moving, and I suppose we deal with the Imperial waiting for me. You can stay as guests here whenever you wish while you're here, and I'll provide you with various clothing, armors and so on that will probably suit you better in the Alik'r than what you have." "And about the offer you gave before. Any of that still on the table?" Baldur asked. "You get Hammerfell in on that alliance, then yes. We'll support your king as the leader of it, and by extension you, and we'll also send some men to your Reach to help get rid of the scum. They pour into our territory as well, after all. But I have one condition, and just one. This time I'm not joking. I need your word that you'll stand with us if the Empire makes a move on us." "Well that part's easy. If the Empire ever tries expanding on any one of the provinces in our alliance, then you have my word and Ulfric's that we'll join you in war against them. However, if you ever instigate a war with them, then you're on your own. Also, if all of Hammerfell joins this alliance, I've been authorized to give you all of Dragonstar as well. Sound good?" The governor looked a little crestfallen when he said Skyrim wouldn't help against the Empire if instigated, but lightened up at the offer for Dragonstar. "Deal." Still standing, Rebec watched this exchange with skepticism. It all seemed a little easy, and this Jeleen fellow a slippery one. "By 'you' we mean the Redguard of Dragonstar, of course," she added. "Since I'm guessing this all means you have no ambitions of ruling the country after all." Jeleen laughed, then said, "Oh no, I didn't say that. I fully intend to rule Hammerfell. Me being the first to accept this alliance and now being the one that got us Dragonstar? That'll get me a lot of support from the Forebear side, and even some Crown in the long run. We couldn't take it back from you for years, and I get it back in one conversation." "Which is why I offered. I may not support the force of a reign, but nothing's wrong with you gaining it with a political advantage. Hammerfell needs a leader, it's true. Consider it a thanks for your support in our civil war," said Baldur. "Of course, and I thank you for it. Don't expect the Crowns to be so easily swayed though. They're more Nord than you Nords, to be sure. It's why I'm not the one going out trying to do this and you are. Oh, and I wouldn't travel without back up if I were you." "We got that covered." Rebec glanced over at Suri, whose expression had turned from puzzlement at the governor, to growing respect. Shrugging, the admiral took to the table and began scooping food onto her plate. "What are our chances in the Alik'r? We could really use some of those desert fighters in this. They'd be perfect if we have to meet the Dominion in Elsweyr." Baldur noticed Suri's expression, but his didn't change. He thought the governor was full of shit and just made the test bull up to cover his ass after he realized his suggestion was ill met. But he kept quiet about it. The governor noticed his look and avoided eye contact, focusing on Rebec instead. "Well, there's rumor that your people offered little in the way of help last they were in Skyrim, and they were said to be hunting a Thalmor spy. So you have that going against you. They're technically under control of Sentinel, but the people were never truly ours in spirit. Nomads are like that. Stubborn. They have to be, considering the land. To tell you the truth, I don't really know what your chances are. Besides the fact that they don't all have the same views, a lot of them are hostile to outsiders. White men especially. My suggestion is you find the Alik'r warriors. Convince them, and the other people of the Alik'r will bend to their will. Watch out for Dwemer ruins when you're out there. Besides the dangers that lurk in all Dwemer ruins, you may run into the Anthotis, or even the Thrafey. Vampire clans." "Great." Rebec thought about what they had heard of Samuel. Even if it weren't true, such vermin were trouble they didn't need. "I don't know who those Alik'r asked for help, but if Ulfric knew there was a gods cursed dirty Thalmor spy somewhere, he'd have personally strung him up. And that goes the same for us." She'd have been called a Thalmor spy at one time, but that seemed a long time ago, before what they did to Baldur. The admiral ate a few bites, then gestured toward the outer hall. "You better let that imperial in soon or he'll burn down your palace. Fireball chucker, that one." "It's a good thing it's made of stone, then," Baldur joked. Jeleen laughed briefly, then signaled for the guards to fetch 'The Imperial'. The guard opened the door, not even bothering to approach Gracchus. A spear tap on the stonework pulled the Imperial ambassador's attention away from the book, which he was nearly finished with. Glad to see they don't hold grudges... he thought dryly, as he stood up and walked into the feasting chamber. "I hope everything between your two parties went well," the old general said, bowing in front of Governor Jeleen as he did. "Almost didn't," Baldur said, winking at the governor. Jeleen laughed, then said, "Like I told you, it was a test. Have a seat, why don't you, General Gracchus? Next to me, if you please." "Want to keep a close eye on me? Understandable, of course, I would do the same in your position. Especially with an emissary from a province who has treated yours rather poorly in the past, something I hope we can change together," Gracchus took his seat, but didn't yet touch the food. Business first, meal second. "Actually, it was to avoid making our other guests uncomfortable, but it doesn't hurt that I can keep an eye on you as well. Heh. And anyway, I remember that the legion stayed behind in Hammerfell and disobeyed their orders. Granted, they probably would have faced mutiny from the Ra Gada among them if they didn't. Anyway, why has...miss Motierre sent you here?" "I'm sure they appreciate the sentiment," Gracchus said, casting a quick glance at the Nords at the table. "As for my directive, it is to 'Establish a mutually beneficial agreement between Cyrodiil and Hammerfell, in anticipation of the upcoming conflict.' In other words, work out a treaty so we can fight the Thalmor together, and hopefully mend whatever wounds there are between our provinces." "I guess princess didn't realize that we were doing this in Cyrodiil's behalf as well, then," said Baldur. Jeleen nodded, then said, "Right, the Nord's alliance being proposed is with Skyrim and Cyrodiil. I'll be blunt, General. I don't trust the IC. I doubt I ever will. But, I trust that this alliance will prevent your superiors from trying anything for some time. And if that's how I feel, you can bet the rest of Hammerfell feels much harsher. Really, your Motierre should be thanking Skyrim for gaining troops to fight an enemy so close to your borders. The only reason I am entertaining this is because I see the benefit in it for Sentinel, and because if the Empire does try anything, I'll hold Skyrim accountable for it." "The irony is so strong...," Falgrum said under his breath. "She probably knew, but we only look all the weaker if we have someone else going around, making treaties on our behalf, so I'm the representative, I guess you could say. So, on that note, might I ask what the terms you agreed upon were? No doubt I have little say, but it'll put my superiors at ease thinking I was part of the proceedings. I of course could care less," Gracchus took a sip of the wine in front of him, a light, white wine that nipped the tongue. "It's true that you should know the terms, so that miss Dales and whoever she chooses to marry knows our position, which I want to be perfectly clear," said Baldur. He took his time and snagged a bite from one of the ten drumsticks piled on Menel's plate before speaking. "If Cyrodiil ever tries to make a move and expand upon Hammerfell or any future province in our alliance, Skyrim will intervene on their behalf. However, we will not war with you if one of those provinces chooses to go to war with Cyrodiil. Also, we're giving the rest of Dragonstar back to Hammerfell, if the rest of Hammerfell agrees to this alliance. So, since Skyrim's doing the heavy lifting, I think the least Dales could do is give half of what Dragonstar's worth for compensation. This won't be for some time, so you'll have time to talk with her about it." "Those terms seem reasonable. I'll talk to the Empress, and your province will recieve due compensation. If I may ask, what are your plans to woo the rest of Hammerfell to your side, General Red-Snow?" Gracchus asked, brushing his goatee with a napkin, wiping off drops of wine that stuck in it. "Throw them some of the old Red-Snow charm of course. Worked before, no?" Baldur gave Gracchus a joking wink. "That and try not to get killed." "Haha, your plan is foolproof!" Gracchus laughed, then pulled off a small piece of meat to chow down on. He ate for a second, thinking about how he wanted to phrase his next question. "This may be a bit awkward given our past, but considering our future, it may be beneficial for us to travel together. Not only because of safety in numbers, but if we are to work together in this up coming war, we should get to know each other. That, and since you're making this alliance on our behalf as well, I'd like to see this through." Rebec sat up straight. "I'd say we know each other pretty well." It was clear she objected to the idea. Looking over at Baldur, she went on, "Do we really want the Ra Gada saying that our alliance is just a stand-in for the empire? That's exactly what we don't want them to think." Baldur sat quiet for a while, which made Falgrum worried he was going to accept Gracchus' offer. Obviously Baldur had his objections, from the people who served under him dying because of this man and so forth. But still, he knew there were many a Nord legionnaire that joined after doing some Stormcloak killing of their own. Gracchus earned the right not to be given the Nord shoulder. But still... "You know, you're a hard man to hate, General Gracchus. I know you genuinely want to repair relations with Cyrodiil's neighbors. Unfortunately, my wife is right, however. As far as Hammerfell goes, the Empire's going to have to let us handle PR. If we're in danger of being killed on sight by certain groups, we're likely to be killed for certain with a Legion General behind us. We can't make it look like this is just an Empire club with us as the figureheads, or the alliance will never be formed. It's just how it is." Gracchus brow wrinkled, and a frown formed on his face. "Excuse me, but I fail to see how you could be seen as just the figureheads, when it's obvious that you," he motioned around, pointing out the fact he was clearly outnumbered, "are the real power, while I am nothing more than your guest. I know that it may be seen poorly, but as an equal partner in the alliance, Cyrodiil must be represented. Your safety concerns are warranted, but as I am also an ambassador, I can be introduced as such, and no one need know who I really am. Our alliance is built on a shaky foundation of trust, and I feel the Imperial bureaucrats would look unfavorably upon any deals made without an Imperial ambassador." Baldur's facial expression stayed the same as he said, "An Imperial General following the Nords telling Ra Gada to trust them and that they won't let the Empire fool them again. Come now, surely you see the problem with that. And whether they know who you are immediately, they could easily find out. For one, the Thalmor are probably already aware of your arrival here and are just looking for any way to screw our plans. Us not telling them the Imperial we brought is their High General would ruin trust, and also could lead to some trying to hunt us if word got out you and I were working together. They'd see it as the Empire coming back to get Hammerfell and nothing more. Now, as for your bureaucrats, they don't have much of a choice. Skyrim is doing Cyrodiil a favor. The Thalmor threaten us all, but Cyrodiil is in the immediate danger. And we're the only ones that can get Hammerfell to agree to allying with us as well as you. If they can't understand that, then tough. They'll have to get used to someone else running things for a while. In reality, Hammerfell is allying with us and agreeing to accept you, rather than allying with you. We made a treaty with Cyrodiil, not them. So if you don't want your relationship with Hammerfell to be tied down to us, I'm afraid you'll need to make friends on your own at a later time. But for now, we're all you got." Gracchus chuckled, then shook his head. "I only wish I was High General, but yes I see your point. I'll relay the message to the politicians, and undoubtedly they'll be unhappy. Sorry for the insistence, but I have to cover my bases and try to convince you, so I can say I tried, you understand." "With Tullius dead, I'm sure you will be soon. But anyway, you should tell the politicians when it comes to war, to worry more about who they're going to backstab to get ahead next and less about matters that actually...matter. They're useless and only serve to get in the way. You tell them I said that if they give you heat for doing the right thing and not hindering our progress." "Besides," Rebec pointed out, "It sounds like Cyrodiil's got enough of its own trouble at the moment. With Tullius' head removed from his body and your navy leaderless, hadn't you best be getting home? You can take this meeting at Sentinel as proof that you said your piece." "I appreciate the support, on both the High General and politicians. They'll get over it, once I tell them the circumstances. So, where will you go next?" Gracchus asked, starting to really dig into his meal now. Jeleen spoke up, having been quiet for some time now. "They'll be heading to the Alik'r desert first. Makes up a substantial part of Hammerfell, and if they succeed, word should travel fast from there." Gracchus grimaced, thinking both about the desert and his province's struggles. "Eh, I'm sure that'll be interesting. You Nords should have some fun adjusting to the sand. You're right of course High Admiral, I had better get home sooner rather than later. Hopefully it didn't all go to hell without me, haha." "I believe Ulfric had plans to send an ambassador there, so we'll find out. If things are going to hell, they need to be dealt with, or the Thalmor could take the chance to attack Cyrodiil before we can attack first," said Baldur. "Right, and in the spirit of preemptiveness, I'd say we should all go about our business now. The sooner we go about mending things, the better. In Cyrodiil and Hammerfell. Which, given the rumors about the powers that be in the Empire, I think your hands will be full, General Gracchus," said Jeleen. "Aye, I'll need the blessing of all nine divines to keep Cyrodiil from completely falling apart. Well, unless we have anything else to discuss, I'll get going," Gracchus said, rising from his seat. "One other thing. Governor Jeleen, do you have an inkpen and a parchment I can use?" asked Baldur. Jeleen snapped his fingers and had a guard bring him what he needed. Afterwards, Baldur wrote: Empress Dales, Besides the fact that I saw Ceno's leadership skills first hand during the war, the General gets along well enough with us, and made sure that we were aware of Cyrodiil's interests and did not forget about you. Really, you have no one better for the job, despite his experience as a General not being as extensive as others. So, this is a recommendation of one Gracchus Ceno to be chosen as your High General. Hope you make the right choice. High General Baldur Red-Snow "Take this with you," Baldur said. Gracchus grabbed the letter, reading over it but really already knowing what it was about. He looked up at the Nordic general, remembering their first meeting when Baldur was a prisoner, then the subsequent meeting in which they plotted the Thalmor's downfall. After that, their final meeting on the battlefield, surrounded by the bodies of their men, who died together as allies. And now this meeting, pure coincidence, but one didn't have to be a piou man to wonder if the gods didn't have a plan for these two, a plan that would bring them together, just like they brought their men together. "Thank you, this will go a long way to helping not only me, but helping remind my people that while we are allies, we must also become friends, lest we fall into a pattern of hatred towards each other," at that comment he smiled as genuine a grin as he ever had, even turning that friendly face towards the High Admiral. Baldur thought back to what he said earlier about Gracchus being a hard man to hate. It was true. He didn't want to like the man, but he did, and that felt like a betrayal more than anything. He remembered Ulfric and the other's words regarding this alliance and the Empire's past deeds. "Never forget". It seemed pointless now, however. He wondered how after all the blood of his people he spilled, could Gracchus smile so genuinely to him. He wanted to return it, but struggled to. He saw that he looked away to his wife luckily, so Baldur looked to her to see how she'd react. Rebec had glanced over at the letter as Baldur wrote it, scanning enough to understand its gist. Her expression didn't change. As the men looked to her, she said, "I don't like you, Gracchus Ceno. I probably never will. The memory of my men dying at your hands and at the Thalmor's bidding stops me. But what Baldur wrote was true. You've proven yourself as a warrior and a leader. I'm a Nord,and even if I don't like someone, for that I can respect them." She gave a solemn nod, affirming her approval of her husband's recommendation, even if her expression remained stony. Baldur nodded at her, glad that Rebec could put to words what he couldn't for once. A feeling of respect was what he felt, which was nothing to be ashamed about. He tried smiling, but just couldn't, but at least could manage to keep his face neutral. "Like she said, respect. That's a lot from a Nord. Especially with our circumstances. That's better than liking you, really." "I appreciate what you guys have done for both me and the alliance here. Thank you as well, Governor Jeleen," Gracchus bowed before the big man, then rose and marched out, his boots clanking against the stone floor. A guard opened the door for him, the one he'd argued with before, and Gracchus nodded his thanks. As the general strode out, Menel made to speak, though he had his mouth full of roast goose, so instead he jumped up, drumstick still in hand, and ran after him. "Shgenral Racchush!" the Bosmer shouted, jaws working furiously to chew. "Menel Unthora. Pleashed to meet you." He held the drumstick out as if to shake the general's hand with it, realized what he'd done, then promptly switched it to the other hand and held the greasy one out instead. Gracchus turned around to see the squat, ball shaped Bosmer shoving a drumstick in his direction. The fat Mer switched over to the non drumstick hand, but the grease covering it made Gracchus wary to touch it. Finally deciding it couldn't hurt, he stuck his hand in Menel's, shaking it briskly. "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was? You might want to swallow first, we don't need anyone choking to death." A gurgle escaped the elf's throat, which might have been a laugh. A few minutes later his mouth was clear and he said, out of breath, "Quite right, thank you! A man must eat while he has the chance, wouldn't you agree? I am a countryman of yours, so to speak. I was intrigued to hear that you were mentor to our new queen. Veleda- Her Majesty- is my very good friend. We escaped the Imperial City together, back when the Thalmor still prowled. I wondered if you have had any contact with her family, the Broken Hammer clan." Gracchus studied the little elf briefly while he chewed. He didn't have the rough hands or the attitude usually associated with destruction mages. Nor did he seem like one interested too deeply in the intricacies of mysticism, or the healing arts, or did he have the Daedric energy one exudes after multiple conjurings. No, this one was an illusion mage. Answering the question, Gracchus said, "Heard of them, yes, but no I've never met them. I do remember you, now that I think about it. You attended a few of my classes, I remember seeing you with Veleda. But you're more of an illusionist, aren't you?" "That was her idea," Menel answered, shaking his head. "Got me into more trouble than it's worth, destruction did. I am- was- a College of Whispers associate. I met Veleda when she became liaison to the Arcane University. No aspirations to soldiery until I was persuaded that the Thalmor needed to be taught the error of their ways. The thing is, her family has all but cut off contact with her. I think it would mean a great deal if they could be persuaded to visit Skyrim and see how well she's done. If you will allow me a moment, I'll write out a letter on her behalf. Fire-Hand is too proud to do it herself." "Sad they haven't talked, and I'll gladly take the letter. Do you know where they live in the Imperial City? Also, I'd like you to tell her that I said hello, and I'm glad she's finally bringing some magic to those Nords," Gracchus said, waiting for Menel's letter. "She would say they never lost it. I'll be only a moment." The Bosmer went back to the table, greedily eyeing how much had been taken by other diners while he was busy, and took up the writing materials that Baldur had used. Wiping his hand on his tunic, he scratched out a letter and brought it back to Gracchus. "There you are, General. They used to live in the Market District and I assume they still do. The smithing guild could pass on the letter, in any case. Tell me, are things really so dire in the city? How does Kvatch fare? That was where I grew up." "I didn't want to say just how bad it was, but it was your home, so I'll tell you. Bravil was recently taken by skooma smugglers, the whole city. Cheydinhal's count is talking of rebellion, and some elf killing have been reported across the country, but Kvatch is doing fairly well. Count Brutus treated me well when I stopped there, and there didn't seem to be too much trouble. I'll make sure the letter is delivered, don't you worry too much," Gracchus took the letter, folding it and placing it in his pouch. "Count Brutus, eh." Menel scratched his jowl thoughtfully. "Heard some strange rumors about him. Never met the fellow myself. By elf killing, I assume you don't mean the Thalmor getting what they deserve. It sounds like I should be glad to be based in Skyrim. I won't hold you up any longer. Thank you for taking the letter. Let's hope Veleda doesn't skin me when she finds out I sent it." "Just tell her it was for the best, and as her elder she has to listen to you, haha. Well, I should be going. Have a safe rest of the trip, and make sure these magic hating Nords don't spread too many rumors about how bad mages are," Gracchus said in jest, before leaving through the double doors and down the hallway. After the group finished their meal, Baldur finally said, "Thank you for the food, governor. You said we can stay here till we leave? We'll probably be heading out tomorrow." The governor nodded, then had the guards show them to their rooms, then sent a messenger to fetch his men to come to Castle Sentinel as well. One of the guards who was present during the meeting fell back as the Necro Nords walked towards the other's location. When no one was looking, he slipped into an alley. One of the Necro Nords noticed that the guard fell behind, then went back to check on him, then noticed a small flash of light from the alley. Afterwards the guard walked out and jumped in surprise. "Sorry to startle you, I was just checking to make sure you didn't fall behind...," the Nord said. "Ah thank you. A snake bit my ankle, so I went to go heal it. Luckily it wasn't poisonous. You'd do well to watch your step in Hammerfell, Nord." The Necro Nord seemed to buy it, and even showed wariness in his face from the mention of snakes and as he turned to catch up with the others. The guard sighed in relief, wiping his forehead with a cloth before folding it carefully and slipping it under his cloak.

Royal General Corio Adorin (Colonelkillabee), High Admiral Tacitus Silus Meridius (BTCollins) Valenwood Military Prison, near Elsweyr's border 6 am "Warden Thromwatch! General Adorin has arrived, sir," said a voice from behind a thick oak door. Warden Thromwatch, or just Solilus immediately got up from his bed, having expected the General's arrival for some time now. Quickly, the brown long haired Altmer slipped into his leather armor and attached his sword belt, slipping his whip in the back just before bolting out the door. The dominion guard at his door followed behind him as he made his way through the old Imperial fort halls to the front to greet their most esteemed guest. "Sir, he brought a garrison with him..." "What?" said Solilus. "No one told me he'd be bringing a whole garrison! For what purpose?" "The general never travels in light company. He's not one to take risks. The garrison consists of about two hundred men. Says more Bosmer insurrectionists could crop up at any moment. "Well, I suppose that's true. No matter, you and the rest of the guards will simply have to sleep outside until he leaves," Solilus said. The guard's mouth was agape, but Solilus paid him no mind. Valenwood was home to many exotic creatures, including many kinds of bugs. Mosquitoes, ticks, gnats, flies...all of them much bigger than elsewhere. Some mosquitoes even reached the size of a man's hand. When the warden came out, the general and his men, all two hundred golden armored men greeted his presence, indicating Thalmor soldiers and not common dominion forces, as well as a handful of Justiciars at his side. Solilus swallowed hard, being more nervous than he was the previous night. Stepping forward nervously, Solilus said as Corio approached in the front, "E-eh, good morning, Royal General C," "Save the pleasantries. General Adorin will do. Name?" "Right, my name is Solilus Thromwatch. But you can just call me Solilus," the warden said, whilst smiling. He was admiring the General's handsome features as he did, thinking that he was truly an Altmer of good standing. A spitting image of their Aldmer ancestors, truly. He stood out easily amongst other Altmer, which was saying something since they looked similar even to other Altmer sometimes. Even his attire, modified Justiciar robes with leather reinforcings stood out. Showing off his lean strong physique while maintaining the elegance one expected of his station. "Warden Thromwatch," Corio said dully and simply, as if to state that such familiarity with one another would not be had. "Show my men to their barracks. Your men will not be needed for security while I am here. Meet me in my office upstairs." "U-uh, should I show you the way?" Solilus said, trying to hold his annoyance by smiling still. "No. I've already memorized the layout before I arrived here. Now don't dawdle." Corio didn't waste more time with Solilus and went straight to his office, where he inspected Solilus' reports and took note of security on his way there. *** After Solilus moved his men outside to camp, he reluctantly made his way back to...Corio's office. Besides being a dismissive ass, Corio had an air about him that made it uneasy to be around, even with his handsome mug. Knocking on the door, and feeling stupid as he did, since it used to be his room, he waited for an answer from Corio to let him in. No answer was given for a long period of time, however, and it made him wonder if the General was still there. "Didn't I tell you to come in here after you showed my men to their quarters and had them take up guard duty?" Corio finally said. "Come in and quit wasting my time." Solilus silently cursed and swung his arms around in anger to get it out of his system, before entering the room. Corio was standing in front of Solilus' desk with his back facing him while reading one of his journals with daily routine reports. "And wipe that stupid smile off your face. I know it's fake." Solilus' golden skin started to take a very faint shade of red at this point, but still he held in his anger. He was a very cool individual, but Corio tested even the best of people's patience sometimes. Some wondered if he did it as a game to test one's will, but the truth was Corio didn't care enough about others to see. The general took a seat in the wooden desk now and beckoned Solilus to do so as well with a gesture of his hand while still reading. He continued reading for some time in awkward silence, before he finally and quite suddenly shut the book with a hand and laid it out on the desk perfectly parallel to the desks edges. "As you know, Warden Thromwatch. I am here to do a careful inspection on this prison and how you conduct it. Now you may be wondering why the Royal General is out doing such a menial task, and you may or may not have heard rumors that this place will be where the higher ended prisoners during the war will be held. I don't care enough to confirm or deny these rumors. All I care about is your complete and utter cooperation while I am here. I will only be here for a total of three days. Afterwards, you are to continue as normal until further notice. Brandy?" Corio brought over some glasses from the Warden's personal bar from the far side of the room, then went to get the bottle of brandy before Solilus stood up to beat him to it. "Sir, let me get that for you!" he said, using Alteration to make the glasses float while the bottle poured itself. Suddenly, everything cascaded to the ground with a loud crash, sending the brandy spilling all over the stone floor, mixing drink with the numerous little glass pieces sprawled below them. Solilus tried to apologize, thinking that he screwed up the spell, but when he tried to speak, nothing came out. Stepping forward towards him now and crunching glass beneath his boots when he did, Corio said, "Save your party tricks for someone who cares. Besides me hating the pointless waste of the gifts of Magnus to do simple things one can do with their hands and fingers, I am not here to promote anyone above their station out of a dead end job, present company included. So I am not impressed by your...journeyman display of the school of Alteration." Corio's golden eyes narrowed when meeting Solilus'. He thought despite getting brandy on his boots, silencing the warden actually made this a preferable situation, now that he could speak and Solilus could only listen. "Now, warden. I see in your reports that you have some new prisoners. One that is an Imperial, and possibly a high ranking officer in their navy. I want you to run along, quickly as you please, and bring him here to me. Alone, in shackles." Solilus' annoyance was clearly visible now and he made no effort to hide it. As the warden got up from his desk, he continued the curses that he started from outside the room, now that the General kept them quiet for him. Tacitus sat in his cell, his rags reeking of sweat feces. Boots could be heard stomping outside, before a key bounced around in the lock. He only had a few moments to act, so he grabbed the bucket they'd left him for relieving himself and his beside the door. The heavy oak creaked open, and the lamp practically blinded the former admiral. He hadn't seen light of any kind since his candle went out weeks, or maybe it was days ago, he couldn't tell which. Almost instinctively, since he was near blind, Tacitus swung the sewage laden pail at the head of the Altmer guard. It was so the Mer merely ducked his head, and it hit the wall and busted all over the floor. Tacitus was so weak from lack of food that a blind man could've dodged the bucket, much less the physiquely fit jailer. "Hmph, if your done playing around, the General would like to meet you," the golden skinned soldier said. Tacitus shambled through the door way, anticipating the blow he knew would come. Come it did, a swift an bony knee to the lower back that sent him head first into the winding staircase. "Whoops, the sailor is a little clumsy," the guard maniacally said, while his buddies laughed at the man's misery. Brushing aside the rough hands coming to lift him up, the High Admiral gripped the stone and hauled himself up, before slowly ascending towards the light. A few minutes of slow ascent finally ended when Tacitus walked out into the open, his ankle and wrist shackles clinking together. The guards gripped him by the elbows, took him over to a couple of buckets before dumping the scalding water over his head. The pain was bearable, as all the filth ran off and was washed away. "Don't want you smelling like a filthy human for the general, baldie! Hahahaha," the guards chuckled at the comment, and Tacitus longingly remembered his golden locks. Jealously had done it, he was sure. All the Mer were just jealous his hair was just as golden as theirs, and they couldn't stand it. So, they shaved it off, leaving his head bald and scabby from the razor. The took him by the elbows again and practically carried him up another flight of stairs, this time inside the old imperial fort. Long gone were the dragons, replaced now by black and gold of the Thalmor. They reached the office, and another kick sent Tacitus into the room after a gruff voice from behind the door commanded "Enter." Solilus wasn't in attendance, Corio noticed. Which was just as well, he hated the grovelling types. How could you respect someone who kissed your ass? Despite the recent wash, Tacitus' smell was still very evident and practically palpable. But one could only expect an animal to smell like an animal. That's what his colleagues would say anyway. Pointing to the chair while reading something from the warden's library, Corio said, "Sit, if you please." Tacitus glanced at the chair, rough and wooden, but much more comfortable than the stone floor of his cell. He sat down, the chains clanging again as he did. Tacitus watched the man wearily, never taking his eyes off him. Of course, being so weak and in chains, he couldn't do anything to the man, so watching him was a fruitless effort. Corio hadn't taken the time to look at the prisoner yet, being too enthralled in his book. "You know, one thing I can say for you humans is you can spin a good tale. This Magdela Bathory, her skill is something I wouldn't have expected from someone so young." Picking up a quill from the desk to mark his space in the book, just before a juicy part that reminded him of his time with his beloved so long ago, he finally closed the book, then rang a small bell he brought with him for the office which signaled for a Thalmor guard to enter. When he poked his head in, Corio said, "I'm ready for my lunch. Bring it at once, and some for the prisoner as well." The guard nodded and was gone for a short while before bringing a wooden plank holding a plate with a freshly cooked steak, seared magically and preserved through restoration arts. It was covered in red wine sauce and had a baked potato on the side along with a glass and a bottle of Argonian Blood wine. Another guard came in with the same plate for Tacitus, but when he moved to place the food before him, Corio said, "Ah ah, not just yet. Place it over there, on the bar." The guard nodded and did as he was told, then left the General to his meal, which he wasted no time indulging himself in. The steak was such a thick cut, it may have been more practical to cut with his sword, he thought jokingly. But instead of cutting it, he lifted the heavenly smelling meat with his hands and took a large sloppy chomp, slowly tearing at it with his teeth before the dead flesh finally gave away, relenting it's juices into the general's mouth before he took a sip of the wine. After swallowing hard, Corio said, "Hoo boy. Excuse my table manners, but sometimes a steak needs to be really enjoyed. Something the delicate little pieces Altmer table conduct demands I make just doesn't permit. I won't make it a habit though, I promise you." Corio placed the large slab of meat back on the plate now, using his inadequate dinner knife and fork to cut the little pieces he had just previously described after sucking his fingers. Tacitus stared longingly, not at the food but at the book. His stomach growled day in and day out, but what he longed for was an escape, something that only death, freedom, or a book could provide, although the latter was only temporary. He didn't say anything to the general, just grunted to show he wasn't a mute, or too damaged to respond. Tacitus had nothing to say, nothing nice or pleasant, and every word would either come out as a plea or an angry cry, so he kept his mouth shut. The steak did smell delicious, and his mouth watered at the sight of the juices pooling up under the slab of meat, but he wasn't about to let this golden skinned scum know he was hungry. The General continued his meal, slowly, until every last morsel was consumed. He took the wine in his hand now and sipped at it while he leaned back in his chair, regarding the man that sat before him. "What an old tale this is, don't you think? Man versus mer. A very old tale, almost since the beginning of time. Yet even still, we find ourselves not bored with it yet. Because even still, we just can't seem to truly understand one another. And people fear what they can't understand. Do you think you can understand me, human?" "Maybe," Tacitus said simply, knowing that any excessive talking would only further weaken him. He needed every breath, every ounce of energy, and none of it could be wasted on talking. Corio smiled, having an idea of what he was doing, then said, "You know, you'll get that plate over there with the steak and potato, as well as some of this wine if you simply hold a conversation with me. No Empire secrets, no betraying. I can get their secrets myself anyway. For today I just want to talk." "Fine. What is it you'd like to discuss?" Tacitus asked, still watching the Altmer's every move, especially noting the smile. Corio's smile faded quickly, as it always did. His serious attitude didn't permit one to last long. Regarding Tacitus' face to see if he could recognize him, he said, "Whatever you want, really. Honestly, I'm a bit...curious as to how your mind works. Humans, I mean. The way one is interested in the lifestyle of a wild beast. To me, that's all you really are. Imagine if you will, that a...troll strolled into your home and took a seat at your table for a meal. Then imagine that troll could speak. Maybe then you could understand how I see you and why I'd be interested in you. Speech in a beast implies some sort of intelligence as well as self-awareness, so if you are self aware, you must have a name, yes?" If he could at least get a name out of him, he'd be able to more easily pinpoint who this man was. The Thalmor had records of Empire and Stormcloak officers. A name would make Corio's job much easier. "You can call me Sir Troll, since I'm no more than a beast to you. We are no more beast than you, and I'm not sure what gives you, General High and Mighty, the right to call me a beast. Hmm, I didn't believe the rumors that they brainwashed you, but that seems to be what happened to your poor, haha, inferior, brain," Tacitus said, snapping our of his quite demeanor. This elf got his blood boiling, and he could no longer contain his emotions. Corio allowed himself to smile once more, but let it fade. "Ah but you are but beasts. You're short lived, not as intelligent, nor as proficient in the arts of magic as we are. But look at us. Altmer, the cultured people. The ones who brought culture to you Imperials and the ones whose language was adapted for all to speak in one common tongue. Even the color of our skin is superior. For what seems to be the one thing no man can go without? Gold." Corio was leaning back, looking at the ceiling when he said that last part about the skin color, but looked back to Tacitus' eyes when he said, "Just kidding on that last one. That's something that our, as you say, 'brainwashed' colleagues will repeat. But I'm not one of those. What I said before that was nothing but truth. When it comes to intelligence, magic and longevity, we are superior. When one says this to a human, they may reply with, 'But we have many strong warriors!' Then I would say so do goblins and orcs, who may as well be the same. A bull is stronger than a man and a mer, yet we can all agree we are superior to the bull, yes? And I've seen many a creature of the wild that can occasionally outsmart their hunter once in a pair of blue moons, yet we can still agree that we are more intelligent, yes? And I've seen many a wild beast slay combatants in the Arena, yet at the end of the day, they are still prisoners, forced to kill for the entertainment of their...superiors. I'm no fool, I know better than to deny the presence of a god in the mythic. It's undeniable. But, unlike my gods, yours is not one by nature. What I say are facts. Talos is indeed a god, and you indeed are inferior. Metal can rust, but that doesn't make the corruption that causes it more precious." "Your mind seems made up on the matter, so why discuss it? Nothing I can say or do will convince that we are more than "beasts," so I don't imagine I should waste anymore breath on the subject. This is not conceeding that you're right, but arguing with no hope to persuade the opposing party is worthless. So, is there any other matter you want to talk about?" Tacitus said leaning back in his wooden chair, trying to relax a little. "No need to give up on the subject just yet. You're right, of course. How can one have a two way conversation if one's mind is already made up and isn't open to new considerations? Ha, I was just hoping that calling you a beast would continue the emotional response you gave before and that you'd fight me on the matter. You humans seem to love hopeless endeavors. So I'll level with you. You're not really beasts. Breaking it down even further, most of what I said is true. The longevity, magical talent for the most part generally speaking and so on. But, what your average Altmer won't tell you is this. We're afraid. Do you know why?" "Unlike some beasts, we can control our emotions. Sometimes. Anyway, why, why are you afraid? I'm dying to know," Tacitus said dryly, not so much bored as tired of this Altmer's preaching. "We're afraid because the idea that man could actually win in this little drama of ours never actually occurred to us before. It didn't matter before, even after Numidium, because we still had the Crystal-Like-Law. But after that was gone...We're stuck here, you see. Like you are, in this prison. A common Thalmor will remark on how we used to be gods and that we're descendants from them. It's true, but so are you. Imagine a god being reduced to living the way we do. I'd imagine they'd feel the way you do right about now. Yet, you humans, you actually like this prison. That always has scared us. Prisoners on the side of their warden? Madness. Impossible for us to understand. And we fear what we can't understand. But do you really like this prison? Or are you simply looking to make the best of a bad situation? Maybe we're all looking for an escape in our own way. Would explain things like this book." Corio said, referring to Magdela's work. "When I read this woman's work, I sense a person looking for some kind of escape. I saw the way you looked at this, you know. So tell me. Do you like this prison? Or are you looking to escape? Part of being a Thalmor is believing that there's always another way to escape. And unlike my colleagues who would tell you there is none for you...I disagree. So you could say I'm a better Thalmor than any one of them. All it takes is a will, and a means. And unlike the means for our escape, yours is quite simple. All you've got to do...is talk." "I'm sure spilling all of my secrets would get me my release. No, if I tell you anything, even if that's all I know, you're torturers will always believe there's more. So no, I don't particularly like this prison, and yes, escape is very much an option, but I won't tell you a damn thing. Maybe you don't like this prison because you don't try to like you. You're so focused on becoming gods again that you miss the enjoyable moments, like reading a book or eating a steak, or running a blade through an enemies stomach," Tacitus said, that last 'enjoyable moment' said almost as a threat. Corio's expression softened, rather than him smiling. "Come now, surely you know better than that. Us, the ones who your Empire copied most of their arts and literature from in the first place? And do I look like someone who doesn't appreciate such things? Especially the last one... We enjoy what we can because otherwise, we'd go insane. And we can't have that. We need our strength to make escape possible." After saying this, Corio walked over to the plate of food for Tacitus and brought it before him, just out of his reach. "You need your strength too. All I'm asking for is a name. For now. As for later on, believe it or not, I am a man of my word. Because if you are who I think you are, there's a good reason for me to let you go and keep to my word. I have a message for someone on the outside that I want you to deliver." The food just out of reach on the right, the book on the left, and between both the Thalmor general. He was the pathway to freedom, but also the executioner. All he wanted was a name, as simple as saying a name. But he wouldn't. He hadn't gotten this far to wimp out, to shirk his duty to the Empire. He stood up as fast as his weakened legs would allow, then spat in the Altmer's face. "I'll never tell you anything, trash. Go ahead, do your worst, then we'll see who's superior." Corio's expression hardened again, then with a wave of his hand, he made Tacitus' chair shoot forward into his joints, forcing him to sit. After wiping his face with a black and gold Thalmor issued handkerchief, he slowly pushed the plate of food to Tacitus along with the book. "Eat. You'll need your strength very soon. I'll be back in two hours." Now Corio stood from his chair and left Tacitus alone in the office with the guards blocking the only way out from the other side. Tacitus ate hungrily, not wasting anytime to wipe his face or cut up the steak. By now it was cold, but he didn't care, as it tasted the same to him. The potatoe went down just as easily, and he even drank what he could of the strong wine. Seeing that he still has some time left, and being all alone, he grabbed the knife, and fruitlessly tried to break out of the shackles. That needed rather quickly, as the cheap knife snapped in two. He then looked around for something else he could use, to no avail, so he hid the knife the general had used on the inside of his shirt, tucking it between the rope around his waist and his skin. The metal was cold, but he knew it might be useful later. If he was alive later, that is. Finally, the General arrived, two ours later exactly. Just as he said. With him came two Thalmor guards who had a wooden case containing many tools of the trade, which trade being rather evident. After they placed the box on the desk, Corio took his seat once more in front of Tacitus while the guards stood behind him. "Enjoyed yourself?" Tacitus saw the case, and instantly knew its contents. He wasn't scared of death, and the wine had even given him a little fire. "Go ahead, you sonsabitches, let's see what you got in your box of goodies," Tacitus said with as much of a smile as he could manage. He wasn't truly scared of death, knowing that he's get to join his wife and kid in the afterlife. He was ready to go, if that was his destiny. Corio leaned back in his chair and signaled for the guards to do as he wished. "I don't know what it is that you think I have in that box, but it's not as unpleasant as you think. Well, some may disagree, but we'll see." While he spoke, one of the guards brought out some tools to file Corio's nails and to remove the dirt from under his fingers. While the guard worked on his hand, Corio said, "We're not beasts after all. And as intellectual individuals, we should keep our hands clean." With his other hand, Corio snapped his fingers and had the other guard proceed to do the same with Tacitus. "Heh, I'm sure that's all you're going to do. File my nails and put some makeup on me, maybe even cut my hair. Oh wait, you've already done that," Tacitus watched the guards as he spoke, not trusting them one bit. "All I want is your name, human. Just tell me your name and I give you my word and swear on my dead wife that you will go free. All I want is your name, and for you to deliver a message." While the request seemed simple on the outside, he knew that a lot of power came with a name. In a dragon's case, even literally. "Why, so once you think you know who I am you can torture every piece of information out of me? No thanks. Just send me back to my cell to rot, I was perfectly miserable without you nagging my ear off, elf." Tacitus refused to give his name, mostly out of the principal. Giving up his name was symbolic, it was the release of information to the enemy, regardless of the pertinence of that information. We're going to do that anyway, human. Corio looked to the guard tending Tacitus' nails and gave him a nod. The guard nodded back and eagerly took out an old iron hammer for nailing, then without further notice slammed it on Tacitus' pinky tip. "There's twenty seven of those in the human hand, not counting those within the tendons. Just another fact. I'm full of them." Tacitus whinced, almost jumping out of the chair. His teeth ground against each other, like a mortar and pestle, but he fought against making a sound. "Twenty-seven, eh?" he breathed heavily, but continued. "I'll remember that next time I punch your golden skinned brethren." Corio didn't have to say anything, as the guard took the initiative and slammed the hammer down on his pinky finger again, this time with enough force to break the bone for sure. "You're lucky I'm not a sadist. I don't enjoy these tasks, so I'm going to make this quick. I'm going to break every last bone in that strong hand of yours if I have to. Tell me your name." Tacitus gripped the right arm of the chair, digging is nails deep into the wood. It would be so easy, just give them the name, but he knew he couldn't. It would destroy his will. "Bastard...you're as sadistic as anyone," he said through gritted teeth. "Hmm, maybe. I do enjoy the part where I get a juicy steak and a manicure in the deal. Fantastic really. You do a great job guardsman," he said, smiling at the guard before turning to the ceiling again. "He really does do a great job. How's your manicure going?" Tacitus' guard banged on two more bones with their sickening crack indicating their shattering after he spoke. Tacitus couldn't help but crying out this time, a primitive scream that was all pain. Pieces of the wooden arm came out and stuck in his nails, his grip as tight as a vice. "It's...my name...is Troll, Sir Troll to you! Hahaha!" "Saw that coming. This is taking too long, do we have any finger wedges?" "No sir, but we can forge some if you w-" "No, I don't have time to wait for that. I suppose he'd just keep blacking out if I used those though. And if I keep shattering his bones, his hand would just grow numb to the pain. I wasn't lying when I said I don't take pleasure in these things. There's a lot of careful planning and consideration in torturing, you know. It really is an art form. Too bad for you, I'm no artist." Corio got up and walked over to the back of the room where his pack was, then he pulled out a large steel war axe and walked behind the admiral where he couldn't see it. "Nord craftsmanship. Gotta admire it. Last chance. W-," Corio suddenly paused when he noticed that his dinner knife from earlier was missing. "Taken an interest in our silverware huh? I'm going to need that back." Corio signaled for the guard to take another swing. "Do it! Or are you just as much a coward as I suspect! Do it ya bastard!" The hammer swung down right in the middle of his hand, his nerves screaming as the bones shattered. No cries of pain, just a horrible, awful laugh that shook his entire body, tears falling onto his ragged shirt. "It's under my belt...it's under the belt..." The guard immediately removed the piece of metal from the Admiral's person, then Corio said, "See? That wasn't so hard. Now just tell me your name and end this torment." All the playfulness, all the fight was almost completely sapped from him. He slumped over, so much so one of the guards had to push him back up to keep him from falling over. "I'll never...I'm never going to tell. I'm nev-never gon-gonna tell you. Never..." One of the guards spoke up, knowing what was coming next. "Sir, are you sure you want to do that? If he is who you think he is, shouldn't we be less rash?" "What I want from him is not information, but a message." Without any warning, Corio lifted the axe and swiftly parted Tacitus' hand from his body. Immediately after, he began to magically burn his stump to keep it from bleeding too much. The shock from the sudden hand severing prevented any outcry from Tacitus. His dumbfounded looked subsided, morphing into a horrible conglomeration of his worst memories. His body began to convulse, images of his wife's bleeding, dead body replaced by the sea serpents massive fangs in his leg, and that replaced by the image of his hand twitching on the floor. His stumb no longer bled, but the convulsions sent him sprawling to the floor, unable to move to stop the seizure from shock. Corio sent a quick boot to the back of his skull to prevent Tacitus from injuring himself further in shock, keeping his panic from increasing the likelihood of cardiac arrest. Afterwards, the guards propped him back up in the chair where they applied their healing magics to regulate Tacitus' blood pressure and to keep his breathing normal as well until he woke back up on his own. Tacitus eventually came around, a quick glance to his left confirming that the torture wasn't just a sick dream. His body still quivered, his right hand twitched nervously. Even with the healing magic, his entire body hurt, almost as if a tree had fallen on him. His eyes downcast, his body covered in screaming nerves, he finally gave into the demand. "M-m-my name is Tacitus Silus Meridius. Tacitus Silus Meridius. Tacitus S-s-s," he couldn't finish saying it the third time, tears pouring from his eyes and his body shaking like a leaf in the wind. Sobs racked his entire body, his entire mental capacity reduced to the mumbling of his name. Corio's eyes widened in surprise. "Tacitus? The High Admiral of the Imperial Navy? We thought you were dead after what happened to your ship...What...luck. If I knew that..." Suddenly, Corio started wondering if he should have listened to the guard and take it slow after all, in case there were complications. Corio walked over to Tacitus now, placing his hand around his neck and bringing his face close to Corio's. "I wasn't expecting you, I'll be honest. Luckily for you, there's not any information from you that I want. So, what to do with you now..." Corio paused for a moment to think about his options. If he killed this man, the Empire would just replace him with someone else. If it was during the war, killing him would have a much more chaotic effect. And there truly wasn't a reason to keep him around. No info from him that he needed. But if he let him go...assuming the Empire would still let him serve...then he'd have a grudge. Anger would fill his judgement. Letting him go may serve him in the end more than killing him ever would. "Congratulations, Tacitus. It seems the gods favor you. You'll continue to live after all. Even more, I'll let you go. As promised." Tacitus just stared off blankly, unaware of the Mer's hands on his neck, or that he was even being spoken to. All he saw was his wife's smiling face, her arms cradling a baby boy, wrapped right in blankets. He smiled back, mouthing the words "I love you," but unable to actually say them, his body still too shocked to speak. "Hmm, I think we're done for the day. Have him taken back to his cell to rest and give him a healing potion. In the morning have a bag of supplies for him for his departure. Go on now, report back to me if there's any complications with the prisoner. Bring him back to my office before you release him." The guards looked to each other, clearly very confused by the orders, but they decided not to ask, as they were used to taking strange orders from the Justiciars before. Their minds worked in strange ways, they knew. And usually it paid off in the long run. Once back in his cell, and after having the potion poured down his throat, Tacitus curled up on his like of straw in the corner, looking like a fetus in the womb. Tears uncontrollably poured down his face, until his body couldn't produce anymore. Then he slept, his body passing out from exhaustion. In his mind, he still saw the image of his wife, smiling and laughing, before that too faded away. Back in Corio's temporary office, the Royal General continued to sit behind the desk, contemplating the discussion that he had with the Admiral. Namely all the things he repeated that the Thalmor had tried to drill in his head, then rewarded him for knowing better. As if it was some kind of test to weed out the weak willed from the strong. He couldn't help but think his job would be easier if he truly believed humans were just animals. But then, you could feel sympathy for animals as well. Whether he was beast or not, he could let nothing stop them from reaching their honorable goal. To rid the universe of suffering and pain. For that, any pain he caused between now and then was just an unfortunate necessity...Failure was unacceptable. For failure wasn't something forced on you. It wasn't just a mistake, or some event that you coudn't control. "Failure is a choice. One that I will never choose." *** The next day, gruff hands plucked Tacitus from his sleep, pulling him along by the elbows. His wrist throbbed, and a weird ghostly sensation made him feel as if he still had his hand. They brought him to the water, and rinsed him off again, before dragging him and tossing him in front of the general's office. He slowly stood, then walked in without so much as a knock. Corio was standing, back turned to the Admiral while reading the same book once more in one hand while holding the axe in the other. From how far he had gotten, it was clear that he had been reading all night. After a few moments, he closed the book, this time slower than before, reflecting on what he had just read with a satisfying sense of conclusion. "Ah, finished. Just in time. Well, lets get this over with." General Adorin turned around now and had the guards place a pack of provisions on Tacitus' chest to grab. "You'll find everything you'll need to get back to Cyrodiil in that pack. A pardon signed by me in case you run into any Thalmor, food, a map, bed roll, etc. This axe will serve a double purpose. You're going to need something to protect yourself, but more than that, it's my message. When you see a man that colored snow, give him this axe. You'll know him when you hear his name. Here, you can have the book too." Tacitus stood hunched over, like a man who'd seem many seasons, and not the young man he still was. The pack was heavy, his weakened body struggling under its weight. He grabbed the book, sliding it in the pack, and slid the axe in his belt. "Sword?" he croaked out, referring to the sword they'd taken from him. "In the pack," the General said. "Wrapped up in the bedroll. On your way now, Admiral." "W-who is snow colorer? How do you know I'll meet him?" Tacitus said, staring at the rough stone floor the entire time. "Just remember the phrase 'a man who colored snow'. I'd rather not make it too obvious. I know you'll meet him because I know what he is and what you are. Your paths will cross. It will be obvious when you hear his name, so don't think about it too much. You should be more concerned with yourself." Tacitus slowly nodded, then turned and walked out the door. Hi slowly walked down the stairs, and at one point attempted to grip the banister on the left, only to realize he had no hand. The memory still stung, like a hot iron, and he quickly brushed it away. He walked to the edge of the camp, quickly figuring out which direction he needed to travel, a northeast path, as he was somewhere in central Valenwood. He contemplated switching the axe out for his sword, but figured the chopping ability of the axe would better suit him in the jungle. He stepped forward, disappearing into the green wall of foliage.

Lorgar Grim-Maw Valenwood, Fort Duron Night, "My decision is final, Miss Akney. My men are not your personal hit squad, I wont authorize anything without Justicar approval." Lorgar Sky-wind said, in a bored, and dead pan tone, planting his black gloved hands onto his desk. His officer was....primitive. It was nothing compared to the grand study he had at the imperial city, but he honestly preferred the simplicity of his new office, than his old one. Instead of his previous grand book collection, Lorgar had a small shelf filled with books on military strategy and tactics. His small desk was made from wood imported from Elswer, as it was illegal to cut down any lumber in Valenwood. Him and his mercenery unit had been given Fort Duron as a base of operations, as agreed up in his contract, and had been there for a few weeks now. The room itself was small, and kinda cramped if more then three people were in it at a time. On his wooden desk was an ash tray, to place the burning remains of his cigarette's, unfortunately for him, Cigars from Cyrdoili were considered contraband and were illegal to import, and much to expensive anyway's even if he could. So instead, Lorgar had bought a very cheap brand from Elswer, buying a whole crate of the them. He was dressed in the leather longcoat all of his commandos' wore, preferring it over the wool longcoat his officers preferred to wear when they weren't on an operation. The only difference being that Lorgar wore a leather balacava with a wolfskull painted on it, over his face. For security reasons, and the fact he didn't want to draw the ire of the Court mage and his puppet empress, Lorgar went under the alias of Saladin Fury-Eye , with his real identity known only to his second Lucienus, parts of his command staff, a few higher up Justicar's, and Shadow Corps Officers. The painted headwear was lying on his desk, along with his black leather eye patch. He had been working on a large amount of paperwork, scheduling an emergency inspection of the troops, when Homunal Akney, his dominion handler, had come to him with the presumption he would disobey protocol, for some idiotic rivalry, simply because she "had authority over him and his men". Bullshit Take my advice "ma'em" , you have little to no power anyway. If your pissed off you got a ****ty assignment, then you shouldn't have failed in your attempt on her "majesties" life. Tell me the ******* truth. Is what he really wanted to say, but he didn't want to antagonize her too much. Waiting for the Breton's response, Lorgar carefully took out a cigarette from his coat pocket, and lit it with a match, which he took from a box on his desk. Inhaling the smokey fumes, Lorgar was unsatisfied with the cheap brand's blandness, but hey, better than nothing. Homunal, who was going red to the face in annoyance, snapped at him, "It's not some idiotic rivalry-" "Cut your shit, Miss Homunal. Many words come to my mind when I think about you, but idiot isn't one of them. I know somethings up with this High elf, and you don't want to eliminate him for the simple reason of some half-assed rivalry." Taking in a whiff of cigarette fumes, and placing the health hazard in his mouth, Lorgar put his arm to his laps. Her face becoming chillingly calm, Homunal gave the nord a grim smile, before taking out a medium sized envelope from the inside of her robe, and putting it on the colonel's desk. Her eyes were trailed on him, her beautiful Lapis Lazuli eyes, which were very similar to his wife's, Millernius Quentas, "Astute as ever, Colonel Grim-Maw." Clearing her throat, Homunal watched while Lorgar picked up the document, tore open the sealing, and began to read the parchment inside. Lorgar's eyes opened in surprise. Homunal said, in a stoic voice, "This would be strictly off the books, and if our certain involvement got out, Lord Justicar Arevni would deny any connections to the event, and would probably alienate blame, and have the both of us executed." Lorgar responded with, "Even for me, Miss Akney, this is going to be pretty difficult to pull off." Scanning the document for additional information, Lorgar acute eye sight picked up, Payment of three thousand septims will be given to any operative who does the hit... "Not a bad deal. Who issued this general order?" Homunal shrugged, "Lord Justicar Arevni, of course." Making a decision, Lorgar said, while scratching his slightly unkempt beard, "I'll handle this personally then, with Lucienus and two others. Arevni wants it public, so I wont be able to do the hit until the target makes his public announcement next month." Homunal gave him a nod, before heading to the doorway out of Lorgar's office, she said, "That'll be fine. I'll be sure to give you any Intel I find. If you excuse me then, I have an interrogation to oversee." As Homunal left the room, the two Bloodwolve commando's guarding the entrance sharply saluted. It was a curtsy, nothing more. Alone in the room again, Lorgar picked up his wolf-skull Balacava, and glanced at it for a good five minutes, in silent reflection, I don't hate myself for the monster i've become. I hate myself for the fact I like the monster that I am.