Question? Does this Rp take place after or before the Oblivion Crisis. I would asume after, but I want to make sure.

OOC : Hmmm...truth be told, Iv'e never really thought of it. I guess I would say after, owing to the fact that Dagon is within his plane of oblivion, rather then trying to get out. Plus giving an army the razorwould surely net him a second chance to have some influence over Cyrodiil should they succeed eh

IC:

After hearing Shepards words , Boros could only let out a distraught "Grrrrr....." before grabbing the remnants of his soup and gulping them back down crudely, spilling a small amount over his stubbled chin and dirty old tunic. He slammed the bowl back on the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm before slinging his bow over his shoulder and fastening it to his back.

"That Dralliam's a headstrong sort...I dont think he would be acting quite the same if he knew how dire the circumstance actually was, still...we have to find him...I GUESS."

The last two words were exclamated with a heavy pang of stress and fatigue. Boros was tired of all this , running from A to B, sometimes to C. Sure, he had joined the army, but only in the hope of boring and dull training exercises. He had planned to run away when battle actually came...and todays happening's had somewhat drained him.

He turned to the quiet occupants of the canteen.

"Well....Dralliam may very well jepoardise what Drothan wants to achieve down here...for all good that thats worth. I say we play it better safe then sorry, and rouse up as many folk here as we can to try talk some sense into the bloke. You never know, the staff of worms might of corrupted him...surely there must be some dodgy necromatic dealings going on if he's got it so fast.

In trying to make Drothans dream all the more true, Dralliam has possibly unexpectedly and unknowingly endangered our whole operation down here...which means this place could be crawling with legion , fighters guild, and mages guild alike. Heck, even the Dark Brotherhood might come in to displace some high-value military targets in the hope of a fast buck.

That means all of you will be undoubtedly fighting, and we haven't been down here long. I know most of you would keep training rather than be slaughtered quickly and without mercy in a full on-raid this early in the game. So, lets stop the problem before it starts....who wants to come help us find Dralliam?"

"I don't think the Brotherhood would show up ? offing someone hoping it would please someone enough that he'll send some cash their way... Not like them. They move only after they have accepted a contract or to get rid of someone who's pissing them off.

But count me in to get Dralliam no matter what. Damn I'd do it even without that whole staff and amulet business. He's a rabid dog, and his buddies would be as bad if they hadn't a mile-wide cowardly streak. I'd say we get him, the amulet and the staff, and we drop it all on Drothan's lap to sort out. He's the guy in charge, and if he can't tell what exactly Dralliam got his hands on, nobody here will."

The khajiit merely observed the conversation going on between the three, noting all the possibilities of what could happen if they didn't stop Dralliam. Instead of piping up when Boros spoak, Dar'Ko simply kept quiet. He'd go with the dunmer, no doubt, but he didn't want to be noticed. If he was noticed away from the mess hall, where he was supposed to be working, he'd most likely get whipped. In addition, this whole scenario peaked his interest, they truly were being jeopardized by this Dralliam character.

Haven't been spoiled by this much fun for a long time, mused the khajiit, This one will have to see if there are any escape opportunities in the midst of all of this commotion.

Dras sat back and listened to the three of them discussing the harrowing news about Dralliam and the necromantic artifacts. Once everyone said their peace, he piped in, "Alright, Dralliam has a powerful artifact, and a fake that is probably a beacon of the Mages Guild. We have to get the amulet and destroy it or take it somewhere far away." Dras shook his head, "But in destroying it, Azura knows what would happen. But never mind that, we must get the two before Dralliam goes and does something stupid!" Dras looked around at the other patrons of the hall, a few were paying attention, especially an Altmer.

Dras dropped his voice to a whisper, "There are infiltrators here, we know that, whether they be mercs for the Empire or other I know not, but we have to be careful. I think we should simply steal the artifacts instead of drawing to much attention." Dras looked at Fara, "Fara, you're the scout and a Bosmer at that, you have stealth, I don't want to put you in harms way but I think if you could get the items that Dralliam has, then maybe I could arrange them to be smuggled out." Dras looked at Fara, awaiting and answer.

When Dras finally added his two cents, Fara listened, before answering in a matching whisper "I have no qualms with that, getting into harm's way is in the job description - we scouts are supposed to find it before it hits the others. But I'm a scout, not a thief. I svck something fierce when it come to picking pocket and almost as bad at picking locks." Waving a dismissive hand "Not hat there are many locks down here, but if Dralliam played with the staff, he's probably wearing the amulet. And my notion of picking pockets includes putting an arrow in their owner's back first." Her face turning colder, with a definitively predatory smile "Not that I would mind doing that to him or his pet ashlanders..."

Fara girl, keep cool. You know the jerks dropped not so subtle hints they would enjoy some [censored] and murder, with you as the main course, to shut you up. But play it smart.

Calming down she resumed with a more neutral face and tone "That's why I suggested to grab him and the two items and letting the big boss sort it out. Because Drothan can tell for sure what the amulet and staff truly are and can do. I don't know what Dralliam has already done with them, but so far all we have to prove he really has the Staff of Worms is his word for it. What he has could be only a necromancer's staff enchanted to make his work easier. When I was in the Legion I've seen that sort of things - we even had one in the unit. Came in handy when some fanatic worked hard enough to get himself killed to convince us he had interesting things to say."

After a short pause Fara added "And let's be honest, because I would really enjoy the notion of he and his bunch sweating nails trying to explain Drothan what they thought they were doing. With a good chance to get themselves a death sentence in the end to add some gravy."

OOC : Long but important post...we havent heard from Dralliam in a while

Dralliam sat within his quarters, the still warm corpse of the recently interrogated Mage lying crumpled on the floor behind him, thick red liquid seeping out of the two stab wounds in his chest, falling in between the cracks of the mouldy wooden floorboards.

It was deathly silent, only a candle lighting the room dimly...two of his ashlander men standing behind him by the door, half obscured by shadow...and not saying a word. He sat at his desk, stroking his chin and contemplating what he could do.

He wasn't exactly high-up in the military. A lowly private guarding the mines with his entourage of burly yet weak-minded men. Now with one of the most powerful magical artefacts in all Cyrodiil sitting before him, he couldnt help but feel the slightest sensation that he had gotten in a tad too over his head.

Hand the staff and the amulet in his mind was begging him. This is all out of your league, you shouldnt of acted so irrationally. He bit his nails in stress. What could he do? Ditching the staff of worms would be near impossible given its reputation. He would stick out like a sore thumb.

"No...." he muttered. I cant hand myself in...Im in too deep. Drothan will execute me for sure, and Dras surely wont be there to stick up for me at the gallows. I only wanted to help...only wanted to show others that I was more then a mere private. I have to end it now...

He grabbed a dagger from his desk drawer and held it to his throat. But something was telling him not to do it....it was as if the staff itself was talking to him...putting idea's into his mind. Telling him not to kill himself. Secondary thoughts seeped into his mind.

If Drothan knows of the power I possess...I could become promoted, own my own unit...become a general. Or I could even let go of this blasted army, with the staff at my disposal, I could achieve power most lowly grunts only dream of. Am I going mad? Has the staff corruped me?! No, no it hasn't. It is I who am seeing the unlocked potential this tool possesses, and Ill be damned if I dont use it.

His thinking was interuppted by a crude knocking upon his cabin door. He hastily dropped the dagger back into it's drawer before allowing the figure outside to come in. "Hey red...you okay? You look pretty unsettled" the ashlander cronie asked ignorantly as he casually strolled into the dimly lit room.

"Im fine, what is it?" Dralliam replied sourly. "Ive spotted a fair amount of folk down by the mess, their talking about you . That fine Bosmer and that ass you knocked down earlier were there too...aswell as that worthless drunk who seems to hang around the two."

"Eh?! Go back there then you idiot! Learn what they are saying! Did that not occur to you before you left?! To listen to the whole story before you came running?! Moron!"

Anger raged in his voice as he stood up, he struck the young private across the face before grabbing him, his eyes blazing with frustration. "If they are onto me already, we all face the noose, clear? Go back and find out what their saying NOW."

He released his grip and the Dunmer nodded in fear, running back out the door and past the two guards. Dralliam sank back in his chair, massaging his temples softly. "By Nerevar...what am I going to do?"

Was approved of course.

Name: Dante Vherharie
Nickname: The Shadow Dancer
Age: Unknown (Looks to be in his 20's)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Male
Rank: corpral

Appearance: Dante is a average Dunmer, slim and tall. He isn't bulgy in muscle but he has a goos amount of physical strength. his hair is long to his shoulders and black with bangs arching to the sides of his face, his eyes are unique having silver weavings in the redness that also glows dimly. His skin instead of having an ashy complection has a dark aura almost black. His garb consists of Black Leather armor custom made for his taste. (like the DB armor but not as skinny.) The set consists of Boots, gloves, shoulderpads (that are pointed on the outsides running down his arms.) cuirass, pants, Unusual black scarf around his lower face.

Personality: Dante is a quiet man. His attitude is serious and at times disrespectfull no matter who he is talking too. But he knows, when he needs too, to show the proper respect. He hates Imperials with a passion.

Class: Assassin (ex DB)blade master
Class Description: Well assassins are that which their reputation provides. They kill for money, and some for pleasure or maybe that is what they do best. Assassins are subtle killers using stealth and stick mainly to the shadows. The blade master prefers to use swords or any mellee they can grab at the time and are trained highly in different fighting styles.

Kit: Two Scimitars made of black steel, (Froststrike, Heatscar) Both enchanted to do elemental damage (hence the names, the damage is very little the enchantment is so he doesn't have to apply poison) Custom black armor as described in appearal, black scarf.

Bio: Dante was born into a wealthy family, inside the Dark Brotherhood. His mother died when he was only two years old and he doesn't know who she was. He only knows his father, who was a great assassin in his life time. Dante learnt everything he knows from his father. After years of training Dante found He was more fond of swordplay then using a bow. His skill increased as he aged and after every contract he acted out, after every kill. After the age of fifty he left the Darkbrotherhood. Presently He wonders around Tamriel looking for a good fight.

IC:

It was mid day as Dante travelled. Good work these days was hard to come by. Hell his last job was not to the least fruitfull. He wen't to some old fort and retrieved some sword. Not a very crafty thing, but it got him some drakes atleast. A small amount couting only one hundred. Half he used to buy some rations and supplies at the last town. He had been travelling for atleast a day now and it had began to pour rain heavily. The sky was blocked by dark stormclouds that lashed out lightning and thunder. Just my damned luck now a days. First no good work to quench my blades hunger and now a damned thunder storm. He muttered under his breath an began wiping water off his shoulders.

His armor was becoming wet after soaking in so much rain. He looked around For some sort of shelter but he wasn't going to find any along the road, not for a few more miles, and his armor couldn't handle that. He moved into the wilds where the trees atleast caught some of the rain. He moved carefully and quietly as to not catch unwanted attention. Soon he found a cave near the mountains slope, it didn't look like much but to him it was better then standing around in the rain. He proceeded cautiously inside keeping low. He made his way down the tunnel and then his curiosity got the better of him. Ahead he saw dim light and heard some pvssyr, quiet but he could make it out. What the hell? Is this some bandit cave? He thought and gripped his scimitars handels. Hmph maybe this could be a challenge? Besides my swords havent cut into flesh in a long time, atleast not flesh worth killing. He prceeded in a low crouch moving swiftly towards the unsuspecting men.

When he got close enough he saw no bandits but, soldiers? What are soldiers doing in a mountain cave? He didn't know anything about an army movement. He stood in his positions in the dark and listened.

"Well I've got to tell you we are getting nearer to the artifact" One said and then the other started. "Well I don't know, I hate the empire as much as they do, but with those two trinkets found, Things have starter to creep me out, I don't think me being here is worth it."
"what are you going to quit on us now? That would be treason mind you!"
"Im not thinking about quiting, but If things start getting worse or creepier im heading out, I have a family to think about!"

Dante was peeked in interest. Artifact? And what did he mean by artifact? and hate the empire? he thought and then pondered. This could be a good break, maybe something worth its gold! And maybe my swords can get their full. It's wort ha shot. Dante gave a nod and pulled his scarf from his nose and tucked it. He stood up tall and gave a sigh then walked out of his hideing spot. Then he thought again. What if these men are supposed to take intruders to their superiors? or maybe a prison cell? I could use this to my advantage and talk to someone higher up and get some answers, I doubt lowly guards could tell me briefe details. Yes dante, Lets just act like a thief I could pick the mans pocket and be seen on purpose. Dante smirked then crept down again and made his way around in the shadows to the guards back. He looked down and saw a root sticking out then smiled fully. He slowly shifted forward and grasped the guards coin bag hanging from his belt then slipped his foot under the branch then dropped to the floor pulling the bag away.

"What the-?" The guard turned around his sword out and looking at Dante. "A thiefe? Howd he-?"
"Nevermind how! We have to take him to the officers in the Canteen!" Dante smiled and then the Guard hit him over the forehead knocking him unconcious then dragged him away.

As much as Shepherd hated to admit it, he agreed with Fara.

When she'd first spoken up he felt sure that his jaw had dropped off his face and hit the ground. The little fetcher thinks she's soooo b'vekking smart, he had seethed to himself. Her careless, "better-than-all-of-you" attitude is going to get us all killed, and Dralliam will be laughing as he makes our corpses dance!

Then Boros had put his word in, I may have underestimated him. The mer had some surprising insights to contribute. But there was Fara again, putting in her know-it-all two cents. He barely registered her comments.

When Dras had spoken his peace, Fara piped up yet again. This is getting irritating, Shepherd thought. But what she was saying did make sense. Grudgingly, he spoke up, "The tree hugger makes a good point," He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Drothan is a Telvanni and would know more about necromancy than probably the entire army combined," He scowled at Fara as he said this, in a manner that conveyed I still think you're an irritating little know-it-all and need to learn your place, OUTLANDER.

He folded his arms across his chest and huffed, returning his attention to the others. "Not to mention he'd be the authority on what to do about disposing of the artifacts without allowing them to fulfill their purpose, whether they pose any real threat or not." This all needs to stay in plain view of everyone, the moment this problem slips into the shadows, it will be multiplied a thousand fold. Shepherd didn't want this incident to fade quietly into subterfuge and have the dangerous necromancer's artifacts disappear into the hands of any "enterprising" ranking officials. His eyes flicked to Dras at this thought, I don't trust him entirely either. He talks a good game but seems all too eager to keep things under his direct control. I wonder what his angle really is.

Shepherd held his chin high, eyeing them all in turn, "I say we gather as many loyal soldiers as we can and get Dralliam and all his cohorts up in front of the Mage; Drothan can make an example of them all and ensure the loyalty of the remaining army, as well as determine the fate of the artifacts."

Dras eyed Shepard as he spoke, thinking to himself of the events which had just taken place, trying to catch up as best he could. Once Shepard had put forth his idea of gathering loyalists, Dras spoke up, "That sounds like a good idea, but if we don't do it right we could have a Civil war on our hands inside this damned mountain." Dras looked back at the rest of the soldiers in the room, now many were paying attention to the small group conversing. "Drothan will help us, no doubt, he wouldn't like the prospect of some Ashlanders scheming behind his back. And since he's given me some extra authority in the ranks, I can get us the loyalists."

Dras looked back at the room once more, "How shall we weed out the unfaithful?"

Noticing Shepherd's scowl, and caring neither for it nor his treehugger comment, Fara didn't bother wording and answer, instead turning up her nose in a clear 'I like myself enough to dispense with what you think of me' attitude. While listening to his conversation with Dras.

"From what little I've seen of him, Draliam and his dozen of pet ashlanders have been very busy bullying and robbing around, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. I'd be surprised if they had won any friend. If we take the bunch of them down, we're more likely to get applauses than a civil war.

If we're a dozen or so to come knocking on his door, with a few of the biggest and meanest sergeants we can get to spice things up, his bunch will fold like paper. So we just get that, invite ourself to his quarters and ask him to to follow us to Drothan's quarters with the items. And if he disagree, we teach him the errors of his way fast and hard enough to make sure he's down before even blinking an eye. Screw chivlary, fair fight, due process and all that, I don't believe in taking chances."

Boros nodded in agreement. The direct approach would serve better then anythign else...afterall, they knew where Dralliam's quarters were, and they knew he couldn't really hide anywhere. Theres only so many places one can go within a small hollowed out mountain fort...and Dralliam, despite his headstrong attitude, should have the decency and smarts to know that venturing outside would be seen as an act of treason and would get him killed all the more quicker.

As the discussions continued, Boros exchanged a quick glance behind the bar-stall he was leaning against, trying to swipe a quick free drink during the heated debate. A smile wrinkled across his weathered face as he spotted a finely aged surilie wine behind the counter, cunningly swiping it as if he was a beast catching its prey. A fine vintage...and half empty too. Must be the barmans personally, swigging it between orders to get him through the day he thought. I had better not finish it off...just a little sip

He took a quick sip, licking his lips in delight. Maybe just a little more.... He took another swig, and another, each time delighting and savouring the full bodied flavour of the bitter brew as it slid down his throat. Before he knew it the bottle was empty, and carefully placed it back in its position in a state of somewhat pathetic guilt.

He spotted a figure cautiously walking into the canteen, attempting to look as inconspicious as possible. He looked somewhat dull, but burly. He slid in between a dunmer officer and a khajiit slave , keeping his head down. Listening to the conversation . Trying to soak in all this talk eh? Must be a Dralliam crony.

Boros leant over to Fara, leaning his head over with his eyes still fixated on the intruding figure. "Dont look now, but I think Dralliams got a man in here keeping watch, look between the khajiit slave and that uptight looking Dunmer official".

Shepherd noticed the new arrival as well; he passed his gaze over the eavesdropper disinterestedly, scanning the whole room. People who were trying to look inconspicuous always stood out. The key to ambiguity was not to try but simply to act natural, be casual and do whatever the crowd was doing. The mer was clearly trying to seem like nothing interesting was going on while the rapt attention of the rest of the Canteen was plainly focused on Shepherd and the others. Shepherd made eye contact with Boros and Fara each and then turned to Dras as if nothing was going on.

“Once again, the dendrophile makes a good point,” Shepherd said, “You’d like to know who we can rely on to bring the S’wit and his lackeys in? I have a simple answer, Dras,” he said with a sly wink and a cruel smile, “One lynch mob coming up!” Shepherd turned to the audience watching their little spectacle. “Who wants a piece of that fetcher Dralliam and his pack of Ashlander swine?” He roared raising his fist defiantly in the air. The Canteen erupted in hoots and shouts of approval. His gaze narrowed and his voice took on a deadly tone, “Then let’s start with his little spy there,” He growled, pointing an accusing finger at the hapless mer whose eyes widened in surprise.

The khajiit cocked his head as Shepherd pointed out a spy next to him and some high-ranking dunmer. He glanced at the man, who seemed quite surprised at the accusation. Suppose it's a good thing this one hasn't said anything yet. Dar'Ko turned to completely face the man, growling deeply while raising his hands to intimidate the man of the rather sharp claws that the khajiit possessed.
On an average day, Dar'Ko was a coward, a wimp, someone who would abandon his own friend in the middle of a fight. However, this time there was the whole canteen to back him up should he decide to take a swipe at the man. Although he wasn't sure whether he should wait for Shepherd to coninue on and explain how he knew this man was a spy, or whether Shepherd meant to just go on and tear him apart.

Assuming the latter, a swift claw streaked down the man's cheek, leaving rivers of red blood gushing forwards. Even though the khajiit had growled as a warning, everyone around was making such a fuss about this man being a spy, that the man was caught completely unaware. Key to getting on this group's good side is to make evident that this one has the same enemies.

Hearing Shepherd's proposal ? and feeling the crowd's mood quickly swinging to murderous, with even the canteen slave making a first pass at the man ? Fara felt a sinking sensation to the pit of her stomach.
And these morons wonder why they can't shake the empire's boot from their necks ? Damn it, they're doing more killing and mayhem amongst themselves than the Empire could do even if he wanted. I want no part in that nonsense. And I'm certainly not fond enough of Dralliam and his buddies to risk my own neck out trying to keep them alive for Drothan to sort out...

Then her thoughts grinded further But if that things blows up like it seems to be headed to, there'll be a reckoning from high-up. The odd murder they can let slide, but a full-blown lynching, no way.. And when it will be time to pin the blame, guess who those racist pigs will choose as a scapegoat rather than admitting the oh-so-great dunmers could screw the pooch...

Which send her on her feeet, raising her voice with more strength than would be expected from someone her size. Another legacy of her Legion time, when reporting findings even over the din of battle was part and parcel of scouting. "Keep the succers alive to drag their sorry butts to Drothan ! I won't stand in the way if you prefer to slice them into tiny bits. But deciding who deserves being killed for treason is way over your pay grade. I say we knock them down and let the boss decide what they deserve."

OOC: managed to find a computer at the hotel with a damn 5 minute use, but all this comotion is getting me someone worked up!

There obviously seemed to be some fair amount of commotion as the occupants of the canteen were in heated debate. Officers were quarreling amonsgt each other like children, soldiers trying to get through to the Dralliam spy with deadly glints in their eyes, even the slaves were making swipes at him. This cant escalate any further or Drothan himself will probably come in and deal to us Boros lamented, pushing his way through the crowd and grabbing the spy by the arm.

"Lets have some order for crying out loud!" he shouted over the din. There were still mumblings and arguments going on, but the room had quietened somewhat...which was good enough for Boros. It meant the crowd obviously wanted to hear what he had to say.

"This is no good just quarreling, lets just do it already!". He shook the spy violently. "Show us where Dralliam is...or Ill hand you over to Shepard"

The spy let forth an innocent shriek, before Boros unhanded him and pushed him towards the door...

"Hold it Boros," said Dras as he casually pushed past the crowd to the spy and Boros, "We will give him to Shepard, but we need him to be able to speak." Dras eyed the spy coldly, his red eyes searing into the spy's terrified stare, "Dralliam, he has possessions that he cannot hope to control, where are they!" he shouted.

"If you do not answer soon, my friends here WILL kill you, we have other means of getting this information!" after this, grunts and laughter of approval came from the crowd, "So, what'll it be, scum? Tell us, or we send you back to the ashlands... in ashes!"

Dras turned back to Boros and whispered into his ear, "We need this mob, but we have to control it or we'll have Civil war, follow my lead friend."

OOC: sorry for not posting again was waiting for some kind of seen to have Dante dragged in on. Guess this one is better then any.

IC:

Dante came back to conciousness as the guards had entered what seemed to be a bar of some sort. He glanced around as he heard some yelling about some spy. Great thats all i need one person in here to cause a rally, I hope these officers mood isn't bitter to unsuspected guests. He muttered softly and grinned. "He's awake." one of his captors said then they lifted Dante to his feet. "Finally he was getting a bit heavy." Dante rolled his shoulders to unstiff them and looked back at the two guards and smirked. Soon he was pushed forward. "Stay here with him, I don't think barging in on this matter with a trespasser will make anything better here." A guard said then walked into the crowed leaving Dante and the other behind. Dante soon realized his swords were gone and the man carried them with him.

The guard shifted through the small crowd and reaching A largly Dunmer with tattoos. He halted in his position giving some what of a salute and then leaned a bit to whisper in the mans ear. "Sir we found a trespasser outside, a thief by his attempt to steal my coin purse." He looked back at Dante and then raised an eyebrow. "A clumsy One at that!"

OOC: Sorry for the absurdly long post but this bit of back story just jumped into my mind and I had to get it out before I lost it.

IC:
Shepherd was going to enjoy this.

It was a little like the good old days, when a False Incarnate would show up at the outskirts of camp to spout his or her lies, trying to fool the Urshilaku tribe into believing that this was the real deal. After the impostors were disproved, usually by the wisewoman in front of the ashkhan and the tribal council, he and his clansmen would work themselves into a murderous frenzy. The audacity of these N’wah who had come to take advantage of them, thinking the ashlanders’ simple ways made them simpleminded. In the end, the fate of the False Incarnates was always the same when they appeared, speaking with their sugary forked tongues; their quests for glory and wealth stopped short at the end of a rope.


And then Peakstar had come.

Beautiful and kind and full of promise, she seemed to know that her destiny was laid out before her; paved by Azura herself to lead their people out of the wastes against the vile sickness that tainted their lands. Indeed, the blight could not touch her; on any given day she could be seen strolling through the ash storms whistling merrily to herself, going about her duties as if the sun were shining and birds singing along with her tune. She could walk upon the air, light and swift as a cliffracer, and her will was more stubborn than a pack-guar. She was a miracle in the flesh, but then one day, she was simply gone.

Everyone in the tribe had searched high and low for her across the ashlands but to no avail. Shepherd himself went so far as to venture into the vile lair of one of Dagoth’s devils in the cursed halls of ruined Kogoruhn. In that terrible place of fire and darkness where the very walls whispered his doom, Shepherd had lost his nerve. His cowardice chased him all the way back to the campground, though he swore he could hear Peakstar’s anguished cries for help in the black depths. For days he hid in his yurt, incapacitated by shame and sorrow; unwilling to eat for fear of the food tasting like ash and unable to sleep for fear of Dagoth Ur taking control of his mind. All hope was lost, his beloved Nerevarine was dead and gone and it was entirely his fault.

One day, a kinsman burst into his tent with such excitement that he was brought out of his catatonic state. The Ashlander danced about the small shelter shouting that the Nerevarine had returned. Shepherd could hardly believe his ears; he rushed out of the tent, ready to embrace Peakstar the moment he laid eyes upon her. When he didn’t see her about the encampment he hurried to the wisewoman’s yurt, strolling in with bravado, a big smile on his face. Nibani Maesa looked at him with surprise when he asked where Peakstar had gone to, her brow furrowed with concern. Then realization came upon her and she told him that Peakstar had not returned but that another, sent by an agent of the Empire, had fulfilled the Nerevarine Prophecies.

Peakstar had been a False Incarnate all along.

He nearly tripped over himself backing out of the yurt. The wisewoman offered a consoling hand to him as he shook his head with disbelief, but he batted the hand away like a blowfly, turned, and ran.


He snapped out of his memories with a jolt, returning to the present situation at hand. His slack features tightened again into a cruel smile at hearing Boros’ and Dras’ threats directed at the hapless dunmer. He puffed up his chest and cocked a knowing eyebrow, making sure the mer was looking at him again and knew that there would be no mercy.

Yes, Shepherd was indeed going to enjoy this.

The more Fara watched the situation unfold ? or more accurately sink further ? the more she doubted that joining the drothmeri army had been good idea. The morons are howling for blood now. I don't know if it's getting penned down there, but it seems just about everyone in that loony bunch enjoys killing for killing's sake. How long before one of the lot decides I'll be his fun ? I need those knives and poison ready, and fast. And I won't get myself between the crowd's bloddlust and Dralliam. There's no way I'll risk my neck for the bastard..

That's when some guards came in, bringing in a new face ? a dunmer wearing a black leather armor. According to the guards, he was a thief who tried to pickpocket one of them. Which upon a closer look at their prisonner rang every alarm bell in her mind. What would a pickpocket do this far from any town ? Stealing hard-earned nuts from the squirrels ? And doubly so with the quality of this guy's equipment. He might be a lot of things, but definitively not a two-bit thief dumb enough to try pickpocketing a sentry...

As she pondered what she should do, a conclusion emerged : a scout's pay wasn't worth the trouble of trying to fix the consequences of Drothan's abysmal leadership. Damn, he's paying sergeants and officers to do the thinking. I'll let them figure that guy out. Getting myself killed trying to sort out Drothan's loony band isn't what I've signed for. I've enough troubles sorting out my problems, I don't need anyone else's.

I hope none of you mind me joining.

Before Boros could act further, a thief was brought into the canteen by some clearly enraged guards. Great, this is just what we need. All this action, first Dralliam and now this guy. Im going to drink myself into a coma when this ordeal's over.

Some of the officer's had crowded around and discussed what could be done. Boros could overhear whispers of lynching him with the spy, torturing him, and other ghastly mumblings. He couldn't help but feel somewhat impatient, the group was in the heat of the moment and now some more trouble had arisen.

Boros walked up to Dras in a hurried manner. "Look" he said with a blunt tone. "We're scant on time, and the last thing we all need is a thief hanging around. Now you could torture , or hang him...but lets be honest, we dont really have the time at the moment."

He leant forward . "So this is what I propose, we use his skills to help us find Dralliam. Of course he could be accompanied by guards, and it would be a good test of his mettle. Who knows? He might even be useful, although I am by no means at liberty to say...but having him stick around could prove handy for this army"

"Aye, I'll speak." Dras said to Boros, then he walked over to the officers. "I have need of this thief, by order of Drothan I take him into my custody, 2 guards may follow if they so choose. But he's MINE for now." Dras walked over to the Dunmer and took him from the guards, leading him over far away enough so the Officers couldn't hear, "Listen, you're a thief, I may have use for you, it pays but its not easy. What do you say?" Dras waited for the Thief to respond.

EDIT: edited for Dunmer!

OOC: Little mix up, lol. Jonas, I believe the "thief" is actually a dunmer, the only khajiit in the room is just a slave Also, lol at "Stealing hard earned nuts from squirrels." XD