"But Fara, thats why the Great Houses will be forced to unite, like I said, once this war is over they'll have nothing. They will be forced to unite, trust me, I was a noble in House Hlaalu, they're Dunmer patriots, even if the work on the Empire's side."

Dras reached into his drawer and pulled out a letter bearing the Telvanni Seal and Drothan's Seal as well, he handed it to Fara, "Here is your proof, look it over, Drothan speaks of his approval to my plan and everything I've told you thus far."

"Maybe but I wouldn't trust them to figure it out in time to do any good. Even when they were spanked all over the place by the Nords they didn't manage to do it until Nerevar showed up. More recently, with the empire controling the Proivnce, the Tribunal still there and Dagoth Ur on the upswing, they still kept hostilities boiling. That's not exactly what I'd call a breathtaking record for uniting when needed. Especially when elven lifespan means the leaders of my second example are still around."

She picked up the paper, checking the seals and reading it "Well sounds like you're right and effectively acting on Drothan's behalf. Which means gong along with your plans is well within what I'm paid for. Though before I go on scurrying to that ruin, I'll have some preparations to make first. It seems you're willing to keep that Dralliam bastard around at least for a while, and I'd rather make sure I can get out alive if he and his goons decide to try putting me back where they think I belongs."

"Don't worry Fara, Dralliam won't be going anywhere, I'll keep him and his Ashland friends in check." Dras sheathed his sword. "As far as the great houses go, I can unite them, don't you worry. Now make your preparations if you need them, acting quick is important."

Dras began writing a letter to Drothan. When he was finished, he stopped a passing soldier, "Take this to Drothan double time, tell him Hadras sends it." Dras gave the soldier a bag of 20 septims, and the soldier sped off towards Drothan's chambers.

Having the answer she was looking for, Fara decided she no longer had any business int officer country. though if that letter was a good forgery, I'd be none the wiser. But there will be occasions to doublecheck. Before leaving she motioned to Boros to follow her "I'll have some stuff to gather to give an edge if Dralliam and his thugs try to make good of their threats. Would you mind tagging along ? I haven't much to repay the favor, but maybe you'd like a little something to put on your blade or arrows."

She waited a short while for his answer before heading straight for the infirmary, mentally checking what she would need. Wisp stalk I can find easily in the cave. The infirmary should have lotus or peony seeds. With these I can make a nice blade poison. I should be able to talk the armorers into giving me a dozen throwing knives. I'm a scout and they're handier indoors. Despite her reflexions, the habits of a lifetime kept her ears wide open, wary of what Dralliam or his thugs might want to do to soothe their bruised arrogance.

OOC : Adams off on holiday until September-ish, So I will be controlling Dralliam until then.

IC :

"Sure Fara, Any chance to pay that s'wit back for that one he knocked me earlier is fine by me". He beamed a somewhat messy if not well-meaning smile before turning back to Dras. "Look's like most of us are in Dras, you just better make good on your word. Heck, if it weren't for this fine brandy you gave me...I might not of signed up for your scheme at all. Be seeing you"

He jiggled the now almost-empty flask before swigging down the rest of the lot and grubbily wiping his mouth with the back of his arm before bowing somewhat tipsily before the officer. He would love nothing more then to have the houses united, and for Dunmer control within Cyrodiil...but his cynicism got in the way. Its all false...you speak of overzealous dreams. It's never going to happen and your going to be killed. You know it.

He turned to Shepard . "Want to come along then?" he said. "We can all enjoy a nice drink down at the mess later...if its not still torn apart"

As he made his way out of the tent, a crude looking thuggish-type soldier pushed past him. "Out of my way, cur! Or do you want Red to lay down another fine beating?". Boros sighed mockingly. "One of red's dumb lackey's eh? Try it, Maybe you wont fare so better in a fight with someones who's actually prepared this time."

The thug only huffed and walked into Dras's tent. He walked over to the officer and muttered something to him . "Dralliam says he's in...and he's making progress on getting these necromatic artifact's."

Boros couldn't help but overhear outside the tent. He cursed, kicking the ground before him in frustration. Idiot! Tool's of such power in the hands of such a character bodes ill tidings for us all...

As they left, and once sure they were out of Dras's hearing range by a wide margin Fara voiced her opinion "I don't think his schemes will do much good. There's one Razor and five houses ? he'll have to make promises he will never be able to keep. That's going to bit his backside as soon as they figure it out. And there's another hitch : getting on with his plan amount to a declaration of war on the Empire. Compared with that, having him killed and stealing the Razor is dirt cheap. Especially considering that the Razor is a dagger. A powerful, nasty, one-hit-one-kill dagger, fine if you need to quickly take down a big nasty ? like your boss when you're overdue for promotion ? but about useless for something on the scale of a war."

She shrugged "Maybe he has some way around that, maybe not. Either way I don't care. I'm a scout, that means I won't be in the thick of the action and I can disappear quietly when it sinks down the latrine."

Shepherd looked at Boros as they walked along, this one has booze on the brain. I drink a lot but I bet he’d make me look like a lightweight. Aloud he said, “I don’t know what this other artifact Dras wants is, but something needs to be done about that S’wit, Dralliam. He can’t be allowed to acquire those necromancer artifacts and I want to know why the Zainab are following him before I have to start killing them.” As an afterthought he added, “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy opening a few of their traitorous throats first.”

He listened intently to Fara’s words, probably for the first time since he’d met her, she’s proving to be a smart one. To think I may have underestimated the Bosmer as a race. He smirked at this thought and then replied, “Dras’ plan is no more ridiculous than Drothan’s; after all, they still seem to be on the same side. The Razor is a symbol, if anything. He plans to use it as the figurehead to his war machine and rally our people behind him with it.” He looked ahead, thinking to himself, I’m all for taking down the Empire, in truth, but what a stupid notion. More realistically, we’re all going to die no matter who we follow into the lair of this ‘beast.’ Hopefully I’ll kill my share of the imperial swine before they end us all.

When the Ashlander barreled past them heading towards Dras' tent Shepherd turned to watch as he disappeared in the folds. "You two go ahead, I want to have a 'word' with that one when he comes out."

OOC: Can I assume that the Ashlander henchmen are fair game?

OOC : ho ho ho, you fiend you Im going to say yes for action's sake..just wound em though if you have to...Adams telling me he doesnt want his men to die :hehe:

IC :

Boros looked at Shepard, first in doubt...but then with a small smile that creeped up into a big grin. Afterall...this was a Dralliam cronie, a paticularly unlikeable individual of whom had stood there, laughing and pointing as Shepard himself had lay broken and beaten on the floor. It would seem that a little payback was what the Dunmer deserved, and it served a purpose too. It would send Dralliam a message. You better be careful, get in boot's too big for yourself and we may just have to cut you down to size so you fit 'em.

"Sure Shep...but eeergh, if things get violent, make it quiet eh. We dont want any sergeants or even Dras on our backs"

He rummaged around his pocket's for a drink and then realised something he had completely forgotten about. "My scope!" he said in alarm, the memory of the trinket snapping back into his head. "I forgot all about losing it". The shock of losing his prized object didnt really have much of an effect on him now though. In losing the telescope, he had found new friends. Beats sitting by myself and getting drunk in this tumble-down joint

"Bah...all good things end up getting lost anyway" he smirked cynically. "I guess it's not important, but what IS important , is getting to that infirmary and getting you some poisons Fara"

As Shepherd thought aloud about something unfortunate happening to Dralliam's crony, she had a small shrug "I don't care what happens to him. But keep in mind we're still in officer country. You'd better make it quick, silent and neat, screams and spilled blood would a tad untidy for their tastes. Maybe just breaking a few bones in a fashion that could be blamed on a fall. "

Her face turned pensive as she thought about Dralliam and the artifacts he had spoken about. "About his boss and his artifacts, I find it quite odd that these clowns managed to get items like that as fast as they did. If I was a mage in hiding with a prize like the Staff of Worms, I wouldn't stay in the same cave as a Telvani mage-lord and his army. I would find it really funny if all he had was a pair of cheap knockoffs. But we would need a competent mage to asses if he's got the genuine stuff or not."

As Boros mentioned poison, she explained further "Well, I'm not going to ask them for poison ? I doubt an infirmary would have much use for it. But rather ingredients to make some. And after that some throwing knives. My bow wouldn't be of much use indoors, and I'd rather keep out of melee."

Name: Benjamin Cirith
Nickname: Ben
Age: 27
Race: Breton
Gender: male
Rank: corporal in the 3rd Scout group (Dark Brotherhood: Assassin)
Appearance: a breton with a slender frame, he is taller then most people and has short blond hair and clear blue eyes.

Personality: at first you'd assume he'd be too kind for a mercenary, always optimistic and happy to help others, but to him his job is nothing personal, he's just good with weapons. he can however be very, very cruel as a killer. If someone make him get angry on a personal level he can find a way to make even the toughest man beg for mercy, usually after severing some toes or pulling out some teeth or nails (yes that cruel he can be!) but he rarely shows that darker side of his

Class: Infiltrator
Class Description: Infiltrators are saboteurs, informants, assassins and other stealthy characters who need to blend into their surroundings. they patience is high and they approach problems calmly and can improvise in nearly any situation, their speciality is creating an identity believable enough to let them achieve their goals unnoticed.

Kit: he wears a standard Drothmeri uniform over his own lightweight leather armour cuirass, he also wears leather boots and gloves of normal quality, his boots are rather uncomfortable as they are of poor quality. his primary weapon is a steel longsword of the first shipment brought in for the first soldiers, he uses it in combination with a small shortsword in his left he uses for defence, it can create a bright violet light to blind others when it strikes metal, Ben uses it as a way to block weapons while he stabs with the longsword

Bio:
Benjamin Cirith was born in Cheydinhall, Cyrodiil, but his family migrated to Morrowind in his years as a teen, so he got a good share of Dunmer customs in his memory and knows how to stay on their good side (often by putting them in place with some of their own cultural references)
one night his family was attacked by cammona tong enforcers for reasons still unknown to Benjamin, only he made it out alive from their burning house and in his anger and sorrow he tracked down one of the cammona Tong enforcers, and he cruelly killed the dunmer and his lover in cold blood. Two days later Benjamin Cirith was offered to join a new family, for people like him...

Now Ben is a dark brotherhood agent tasked with the observation of the developments of the search for the Razor, a very important relic of the Dark Brotherhood lost ages ago. His orders are to enter the army, build up his reputation and do what ever he needs to gain information on the uncovering of the Razor. for several months he has served in the army as one of the supervisors in the construction of the new barracks in the great chamber, now, he's back to training in the army, still paying close attention to any developments in the excavation project.

IC will be posted later when I've made a proper introduction post of good length

Soup waterfalled over the ladle and into a old, worn wooden bowl. The khajiit found his job in the mess hall to me much more relaxing than his job in the coal section of the mines. For one, talking with others was allowed, despite most of the dunmeri people being viscious with their tongues. As well, there was little-to-no effort required. With less focus on his work, and more focus on the people around him, Dar'Ko could gather threatening information about various Dunmer and later use it as blackmail to get whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, however, this job happened to be very boring. So the khajiit set down his ladle and decided to walk around the mess hall to see if he could listen in on some conversations.

The advantage of being a slave, Dar'Ko knew, is that everyone acted like he wasn't here or like he couldn't speak. This was the dunmer's downfall, both in Morrowind and esepecially in Sundercliff. In fact, a particular gang happened to say a few words that caught the khajiit's attention.
Utterances of the Necromancer's Amulet, the Staff of Worms, and the Bloodworm Helm were like music to the khajiit's ears. Closer he listened as he learned of the possession of such artifacts by their leader, whose name they did not mention.

The men spoke of a revolution, though Dar'Ko could not tell whether they meant a Sundercliff revolution, or the one Drotharan was planning. Eventually, most interesting of all, they spoke of a fake Bloodworm Helm they planned to craft to please their easy-to-anger boss. One of the men complained obnoxiously about how some informant their leader shook down lied as to the whereabouts of its location and such news would result in his face being bloodied.

The possession of the Necromancer's Amulet and the Staff of Worms, along with a pseudo-Bloodworm Helm. The mess hall truly was a promotion. mused the khajiit as he began to move on to the next few tables so as not to look too suspicious.

OOC: lol, (sigh) I won’t kill him, just gonna get some information and ruff him up some.


IC:
Shepherd nodded at the others comments, watching as they walked away. “I’ll catch up with you two later,” he called. He moved around to the side of the tent, waiting in the shadows for the ashlander to emerge. When he came out, Shepherd let him walk for several paces before following him. I need to find out what artifacts Dralliam already possesses, if any, and the whereabouts of any he is missing.When the mer had gotten a suitable distance from Dras’ tent Shepherd trotted up behind him and cleared his throat.

The henchman whirled around in surprise and then scowled at Shepherd, “What do you want Outcast?”

Shepherd stood in a non threatening stance with his hands out to his sides, inclining his head to the Ashlander in supplication, “I wish to offer a simple challenge, kinsman.”

The mer spat in his direction, a look of disdain plain upon his face, “Dralliam has no time for riffraff like you.”

Shepherd smiled knowingly, “I don’t want to challenge Dralliam, brother, my challenge is for you. I challenge the honor of your tribe, if you decline then your loyalty to your people will be suspect.”

“I know the rules of a challenge of honor you N’wah!” The Ashlander cried, “Make known your terms.”

Shepherd continued to smile, “You were there in the mess hall, yes? Then you know I suffered grave dishonor from you and your master when you stood over me, laughing at my misfortune. I would redeem my honor upon your flesh and the flesh of all those who were present, but fairly, one on one.”

The Ashlander laughed, “I will show you your place gladly, outcast! Where shall our contest be held?”

Shepherd motioned to a small cave in the wall, “That place will be sufficient, unless you are afraid of close quarters.”

The Ashlander scoffed haughtily and strolled toward the cave. He froze when he heard the drawing of a weapon behind him and turned just in time to see the hilt of Shepherd’s chitin short sword streaking for his face.

As Shepherd left to look for Dralliam's buddy, Fara shot him a lightly wicked smile "Have fun, just keep the golden rule in mind : no stains on the carpet.". Then she hurried to the infirmary, keeping Boros in tow.

Once arrives, she saw with satisfaction the healer Dralliam had bruised was still there. Fine, he shouldn't make trouble to give me what I need. She moved to him with a smile.

"Hi again ? I'm just dropping by because I need some supplies you might have.

What would you need ?

Well, what I need is some seeds ? either sacred lotus or peony seeds. About one purse's worth would be fine.

Lotus or peony ? Sure I've some but what do you need that for ? They aren't exactly the healthiest things to play with.

Yeah I know. That's exactly why I need them. I'm one for the scouts, and well, it's a line of job when one often can't afford more than one arrow. So I'd better make it count.

As far as I know you're not going to get out that soon. Is that really urgent ?

Well, that's not only to take out. There's a few peoples down there who have an attitude problem that could use some alchemical improvement.

Oh medical purpose then ? No sweat, I'll get you that."

The healer quickly moved to the infirmary's storages, bringing back the seeds I a neatly folded paper package.

Now having the first part of what she needed, Fara decided she could take a break. "Boros, I'll still need to pay a visit to the armorer, but I think I'm going to brop by the mess first. Not that I think their ale will have improved, but it's been quite a while since breakfast and I'd like to have a drink that tastes at least a little better than muddy water."

Boros' eyes glinted at the word of drink. "Good, good" he said formally, trying to contain his excitement like some giddy child. "I need to bring some liqour to go...prefferably something that isn't some stagnant miner's sweat that they usually serve around here"

He turned to the medic of whom had just supplied Fara with alchemical ingredients. "I had better pick up some stuff to go whilst Im here. Got any healing potions and maybe some invisibility?". The healer stroked his chin in thought before turning to a vast array of potions of all shapes and sizes behind him, carefully reading labels and taking some ingredients off the shelf, grinding them with a pestle and sprinkling the shredded contents into bright orange flasks. He handed three to Boros.

"Alright...one potion of healing, and two elixirs of invisibility should have you set" He said. Boros smiled politely, tucking the three flasks into pouches in his tunic, amongst his tinderbox and other three potions of healing. "Thanks, they'll help" he beamed before turning to Fara.

"Now, lets go get something to eat...or better, drink."

Shepherd hurried along the blackened caverns of Sundercliff toward his destination. He’d left the Ashlander henchman unconscious in the cave he’d interrogated him in. Unfortunately, the bastard would live; Shepherd didn’t need a murder and a corpse that could be traced to him, not yet anyway. He would be unconscious for a very long time however, and useless for all intents and purposes as well. Shepherd also didn’t need the S’wit running and crying to anyone before this business was complete.

The Ashlander had proved very informative; he now knew that Dralliam possessed the Staff of Worms and possibly the Necromancer’s Amulet. The henchman, who was in no position to lie by the time Shepherd had gleaned the information from him, had been an eye witness to Dralliam’s use of the staff to raise the dead. He’d also been told by his fellows that they’d easily acquired the Amulet from a clumsy thief. A clumsy thief? Puh-lease. The poor bastard was likely a decoy carrying a fake.

So Dralliam possessed a genuine Staff and probably a fabricated Amulet. As for the Helm, it appeared none of them knew its true whereabouts and there was a small conspiracy underway to fabricate that too. These Ashlanders are spineless, even for crafty Zainab!

It was suspicious that even a fabricated Amulet would be captured so close to Sundercliff Watch. If the real Bloodworm Helm has been hidden and the Necromancer’s Amulet decoyed, it’s likely that the Guild knows someone has been targeting their artifacts. They would know by now of course that the Staff was captured. The Amulet decoy could be used to determine the general location of the Staff if several of them were sent out to different places of suspicion, they may also be able to put some kind of homing spell on the Amulet to track it... homing spell...?!

Shepherd stopped dead in his tracks as realization hit him. Visions of Legion Battlemages swarming through the tunnels of Sundercliff burned into life through his imagination. The color drained from his face as he thought, Dralliam is very close to blowing the lid off this whole operation, however unwittingly or well intentioned he thinks he’s being! Shepherd nearly tripped over himself as he changed direction and started to run back to Dras’ tent. We have to get those artifacts away from here!

“We’re so B’vekked!” He shouted involuntarily.

As they left after he got the potions Fara commented "I can mix some extra healing potions if you need them – there's plenty of cairn bolete down there, but I'll have to get some mugwort seeds or the like. Not that I'm exactly a great alchemist, but from the sort of crap Drothan's keeping us supplied with, what I can brew shouldn't be much worse than regular issue."

When the yheaded for the canteen, Fara noticed that Boros seemed getting alive at the prospect of getting a drink, and figured out he was a drunkard. Not one who got drunk to feel good, but merely to keep from feeling bad... "Do as you want, but I'd rather take a bite before drinking anything stiff. Not that I'm a preachy water-drinker mind you, but I've found from experience that getting really drunk ends up in trouble for me more often than I'd like. Like when I got up in the Legion.
There I was back in Valenwood, enjoying the evening in a tavern, when that nice guy comes around and starts standing rounds I'm more than happy to take. Next thing I remember is waking up the next day with a whole Imga tribe beating drums under my skull and mr nice guys telling me I've signed for twenty years in the Legion. With his two six feet and a half plus buddies behind him, eager to take note of any objection on my part."

Boros shrugged almost dismissively. Few had ever supported his habit, some had been downright hostile towards it. "Meh" he had always said. It's what I do. Deep down it was tearing him apart, and he knew it... but his own laziness and lack of motivation meant he simply couldn't be bothered to break the habit.

His eyes glimmered as the mess hall approached into view. "I wonder if their finished fixing this pit up? At first I thought things couldnt look any worse...but Dralliam seemed to of changed that. That brutes uglier then the gnarled wood keeping this place together...not to mention careless. His recklessness is going to do him in."

He exchanged a glance behind him as the canteen neared. "Hmmm....I wonder where shepards gotten too"

"They should have ? I didn't see that much damage before I left. It's not as if an all-out fight happened in there. They're going to have way more work with actually cleaning the place." She grimaced in disgust "I mean, some spilled drinks isn't anything to write home about, but what passes as staff don't bother with cleaning after someone puked his meal out. Worse, it smells as if some customers don't even bother to move out before they take a leak... Oh well, the place's so well built it might be leaking through from outside instead." She concluded with a resigned shrug. "But there no other canteen down there, I suppose we must take it as it is."

As they entered the place, Fara though about Shepherd's location. "From what he said he was going to sweat one of Dralliam's crowd ? about his moron of a boss I suppose. He's probably found himself some quiet corner to do it unhindered. Let's just hope he'll get something juicy enough to land the whole pack in the slammer. Not that I expect it to improve them much, but at least it would keep them out of our hair."

Once inside the canteen they both could see it hadn't improved much. The few displaced chairs and tables were now back in place, and some sawdust had been sprinkled to soak up the stains, but not much more had been done. Yet the cleanup crew was already gone.

Fara moved straight to the counter, ordering a meal and drink. Since she didn't ask for the paying extras, this meant a mug of beer and a bowl of stew. If the sickly colored mixture of beans and thin strips of salted pork - with maybe a few onion and carrots bits - could be called a stew. But without cash to fork out it was the best one could have.

She picked up her meal with a somewhat grim expression, before sitting down at the closest empty table.

IC:
Shepherd tore open the flap to Dras’ tent more forcefully than he had before, rushing in panic stricken, all sense of composure gone in his urgency. “Dras! Dras!” Shepherd cast about looking for the blasted mer. The tent was empty, where did the fetcher go? He rushed back outside looking around for any sign of him. Bah, there’s no time for hide and seek, he snorted to himself. He’d just have to go find the others. Fara mentioned going to the infirmary for supplies and if Boros isn’t boozing it up back at the Canteen by now, then I’m a cliffracer!

Shepherd grabbed a passing officer and spun him around frantically, ignoring the look of indignation that appeared on his face, “You there!” Shepherd yelled at him, “Go find that worthless S’wit Dras and tell him to meet Private Shepherd at the Canteen as soon as possible!”

“Now, wait just a minute, Private…” The officer started to say, but the look of molten murder that Shepherd shot him caught the words in his throat and he only nodded meekly.

“Go!” Shepherd yelled, shoving him away before bolting for the infirmary. When he got there, he tore through looking for any sign of Fara, Nothing but riffraff in here, he thought. Well, I suppose they may like to help save their own skins. Aloud he shouted at all the people staring at him confusedly, “In a very short period of time this whole place is going to be overrun by the Mages Guild and the Imperial Legion if some very specific things don’t happen VERY quickly! If you’d like to live and help stop that from happening…get all of your useless, b’vekking ASSES to that Canteen now!” Then he ran back out as fast as he could, in the direction of the Canteen.

As Shepherd ran up to the Canteen, he literally kicked the door in, it fell away with a deafening crash. Running inside he spotted both Boros and Fara sitting together... interesting... and ran up to them, “We have to go now! Dralliam is going to get us all killed!”


OOC: Hope I'm not overstepping my bounds with this post but I figured it'd help gather all the interested parties in one spot, including any who haven't really posted yet.

Dras was playing dice with a couple other officers, in the Western Wing of officer territory. "Hah! You owe me!" yelled one of the officers as he made a win, Dras sneered and handed over the owed money. Then another officer, not in the group, came running and panting up too Dras, "Sergeant, you're needed in the Mess Hall, some Private named Shepherd." Dras quickly got up from his chair, said his farewells to the other officers, and ran too the Mess Hall.

He sped down the hall, from the way the officer looked Dras needed too be quick. When Dras arrived at the Mess Hall, he heard Shepherd shouting something about the Mages Guild and the Legions, then he walked over to Boros and Fara, he said Dralliam was going to get them killed. "Whats going on? What's Dralliam doing?" Dras whispered to Shepherd.

Boros had sat down, ordering a meek and watery soup, of which was handed to him in a clay bowl with a slightly cracked wooden spoon. It seemed to have what looked like spoiled floating bits of kwama egg bobbing up and down...slightly yellow in colour...spoiled. What a bad attempt at trying to add taste to an already disgusting meal he thought grumpily. He reached for the whiskey bottle he had also brought, and after several attempts in vain at trying to unscrew the lid, resulted to using his teeth.

Pouring half the whiskey in the soup, he scooped up a generous amount, slurping it back quietly. Better...

The door crashed inwards in a mighty bang, causing Boros to drop his spoon into the bowl in suprise. no sooner had the echo of the sound finished echoing around the caves had the tipsy, yet always alert Dunmer, spun around off the stool, moving into a crouch as he did so. He grabbed an arrow and nocked it in his bow with almost cat-like speed, before realising it was indeed Shepard.

He lowered his bow and stood up. "Damn...you scared me shirtless, and no ones going to be too pleased about that door either. What the heck is the rush all about?"

Fara started to eat her stew with and obvious lack of enthusiasm. Yurk, It tastes as if they cooked old boots into it. I thought nothing could be worse than Legion meals, but they managed. Impressive. I see that Boros as his own way to improve it, but pouring half a bottle into a single bowl places him even farther down booze road than I expected. Bah that's his problem, not mine. I just hope nobody's gong to ask me to haul him to his bunk...

Her bleak thoughts were interrupted abruptly by Shepherd's crashing entry ? which send her out of her stool and crouching for cover behind the table with her sword drawn almost before the situation had reached he conscious thoughts.

"Boro's right. What's that mess about ? The moron thinks he's got his hands on juicy enough stuff to give him the clout to try to kill us with his buddies and get away with it or what ?"

Dar'Ko's eyes darted toward the crashing door as a crazy Dunmer kicked it down, resulting in a horrendous noise. The room seemed to go into complete panic, several people ducking beneath their tables, others drawing their swords. This is one cowardly army Drothan has raised, mused the khajiit as he backed up a couple of steps but didn't bother diving for cover. He figured it would be someone on their side to come bursting in like that, someone with authority. Any unwanted trespasser would be crazy to go into a mess hall full of blood-crazed fighters, and if it was the Legion they were all screwed anyways.

"We have to go now! Dralliam is going to get us all killed!" The dunmer who kicked down the door shouted, obviously distraught.

Dar'Ko knows not what this is, but he definitely does not desire to be killed. This one had better go with this crazed dunmer, if not for safety, then to avoid the chore of cleaning up that door. As well, this one can gather a bit of information. With that, the khajiit watched closely for anyone who seemed to know this dunmer, someone he could stick with in this madness. Noticing a bosmer and dunmer standing up to speak to the newcomer without manners, Dar'Ko perked up his ears. These two seem to be the ones Dar'Ko should trail.

Now that Shepherd was at his destination, exhaustion caught up with him and he gulped air greedily. His head swiveled around looking at each person in turn as they voiced their annoyance and complained about his rude entrance. He held up a hand to silence the torrent of questions raining down on him and put the other on his chest over his burning lungs. He managed a quick "Shut up and let me get my breath" before sitting down at the bench continuing to breathe deeply.

At length he was finally able to speak, though it took much longer than he would have liked considering the circumstances. "Dralliam has the Staff of Worms, the real one, I've acquired eyewitness proof," he looked at Dras when he said this and then passed his eyes over the others as he continued. "He also possesses something that he thinks is the Necromancer's Amulet but it's a fake, a decoy. It has to be, the manner in which he acquired it is beyond infeasible for an artifact of such importance. It is also my belief that this fake Amulet is part of a trap designed by the Mage's Guild to catch the person or persons who have the Staff," Shepherd paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "Unless I'm mistaken, and I'm positive I'm not, the Guild has likely imbued the fake Amulet with some way to track it, a 'homing spell' of sorts maybe. This spell will lead them directly here and our whole operation will be discovered by the Empire and crushed before it's even gotten off the ground. We need to find Dralliam and get that Amulet far away from SunderCliff Watch as soon as elvenly possible. Simply destroying it won't do because it's already been brought here and this will be its last known location."

Shepherd sat back folding his arms and putting his chin in one hand, watching the others' reactions as the full gravity if his revelation was laid upon them.

"Hopefully it's not too late," He muttered.

Once Shepherd had recovered enough breath to tell what the fuss was about, Fara listened attentively to his explanations. But didn't reach the same conclusions.

"I don't think there's reason to panic. Whatever Dralliam has truly picked up, a beacon-like amulet don't make much sense. Sure you can enchant that sort of thing, but it won't do any good unless it's enchanted to detect when the Staff of Worms is nearby and report it too. Or you know for sure the guy who's wearing it will go the Staff and remains where he found it. Quite a long shot in our case.

And how reliable is that eyewitness proof you have ? From what hearsay I have about it, the Staff of Worms isn't anywhere close to subtle. It's more on the 'snap your fingers and raise a hundred zombies' side. Which would be sort of obvious in Sundercliff don't you think ?

But I think we can agree on one thing : that moron Dralliam and his clowns are the sort to jump and grab anything that looks like it can give them power. And too stupid and impatient to make sure it's truly what they think it is or take any precaution to keep it from blowing up in their face."

Her face turning more serious "Which means it's up to us make the checks for them. Wether they like it or not"