There were many things Gaston would have like to have done at the moment. He would have loved to continue smiling, even after he saw the crimson clad guards of Helseth begin to prepare their weapons, knowing his insults stung enough to cause the reaction. He would have loved to punch the sickly looking Aquila square in his scarred face for talking down to him. Infact, he would have loved the chance to slide his dirk across everyone of their uncivilized throats, but even this was not to be.

Instead, a solemn look spread across his wrinkled, leathery face. After giving Aquila a moment to finish his rant, he cleared his throat, placed both arms behind his back and stood straight, his chest puffed out. " I apologize to you all for any of my insulting remarks that may have offended. From here out, I shall try to carry myself in a way that Lord Montrose would approve. "

" As for the battle that is about to be fought, we are ready to fight beside our Dunmer and Legion allies to crush this rebellion once and for all. My force is already at the front, but some of our defenses need to be tended to. So if we are about through here, I will need to leave and tend to them. "

OOC: breaking my own rule here but I was writing up a lengthy post and explorer froze. Ill get around to it...

" We're ready when you are. " Aladril said softly as he slapped the young Asad gently on the shoulder as he walked by, heading towards the bow to get a better look at their current position. Aladril had made a living off of reading other peoples body language, and he could tell by some of the subtle looks on Kiras face that she was worried about her young nephew.

As he made his way by her, he stopped and leaned in closely, keeping his voice soft so the young Asad nearby couldn't overhear. " I wouldn't worry to much about him, Kira. I saw his fight on the docks, the boy has the spirit and skills of a fighter. He'll be fine and besides, he has the Black Lotus Union at his back. " With that Aladril motioned off towards the center of the ship where the majority of Darius's crew was busy preparing themselves.

Meanwhile, Do'Raku showed little interest in the happenings around him, preferring to lean upon against one of the large masts and enjoy the salty sea spray. He would rather have stayed behind in the warehouse, acting as a gaurd, instead of running around during the middle of this damn war looking for a single artifact that could be any where at the moment. Besides, his brother was somewhere in Hammerfell, and that was enough to make his blood boil.

Rasheeda farm

"Everyone has the plan. You all know that this farm will be our headquarters for the battle. The legions will be our reserve, so if any of your lines get breached, or if you see an opportunity, send for us..." Septimus croaked. While he never was much known for looking in good health, the strain of this campaign had taken it's toll on him. He sighed, mentally and physically exausted. His eyes rolled up into his head as he said a small prayer. "Oh Alessia, You know how busy I will be today. If I forget you, do not forget me..." He said the prayer softly before opening his eyes.

"March on boys."

" Come on, boys. " Gaston grumbled, motioning with his free hand for two of his jr. officers to follow. One last quick glance of disgust was flashed towards Helseth before he left the little house and headed towards his gelding. Mounting up, packet still in hand, Gaston quickly spurred his bay mount fowards, his men riding hard behind him as they returned to their lines.

" Sir, your orders? " Asked one as they managed to overtake him close to the lines.

" Get to cutting that bamboo. We need to dig in and have little time to do so. Have any laborers that traveled with the supply trains brought up to aid the men. On second thought, bring those wagons up here to. We'll use them as shields. That is all for you, go! "

The officer broke off from the group and turned around, riding like hell towards the supply wagons and the men that tended to them, leaving nothing but a trail of dust behind him.

" As for you. " Gaston continued, slowing his horse to a trot as he neared the area that would act as his command post for this battle. " Return to the Legions with some men and gather up as many caltrops as they will allow. Once gathered, return here and have the men spread them out in the front of these areas. " Gaston pointed to a long line he drew across the leather map with his finger. " That is all for now. I must meet with my other commanders, go. "

Minutes later, Gaston began to survey his lines from the mound of dirt where he now stood. Kneeling with a heavy sigh, he scooped up a handfull of sand and let it slowly fall from his closed fist, watching as the breeze gently took it away. Talos guide my decisions today and give me the strength to strike down these rebels that would break apart the empire you worked so hard to forge.

Wilfred

Where is Manfred? In his mind, the young noble allowed himself to be much more familiar with his Lord than he would've ever dared to speak.

Where are those damn heathens keeping him? Why does this Saladin even want him alongside? Either he does not trust Bretic honor, which is ridiculous both in the fact their honor is worth much less than ours, and in that there is nothing any of us could possibly do in this midst of barbarians... Or he thinks Manfred may be of some us to him?

What could that possibly be - war planning, politics? You do not trust a prisoner of war to help you with military planning if you are sane, and Anticlere has not interfered in the affairs of the Outremer for ages, ever since the War of Betony when we tried to faciliate a peace between Sentinel and Daggerfall... Look how that ended. The knight grit his teeth, recalling that painful, gapping wound in the history of Anticlere. Thanks to Auberon Flyte it seemed to have bled right on the history books, putting a huge stain on the paragraph that stated that Ra Gada were human beings.

I don't believe he doesn't wish to see us now. That is unlike him. Manfred is the noblest lord of all the rulers of Illiac... Or so I'd wish to think. How true is that I leave upon the judgement of the Eight and One. He sighed, pacing back and forth, stopping occasionaly to glance at the men entrusted to him while Manfred was... wherever he was. The Anticlerians seemed uneasy; battle was upon them, and not one that they wished to be involved in. At very least, not on the side they wished to be on... But then, no side in this battle was to their liking. The Empire wasn't well liked in Anticlere either; the East Empire Trading Company put enormous taxes upon the export of silver from Anticlere while being allowed to trade it themselves freely. And this was only one of the faults Anticlerians saw in the Empire's reign...

Wilfred sighed again. If it was his will, these men wouldn't be here... Neither would he, or Manfred. That blasted ambush ruined everything... Now they were stuck with this lot. Although Manfred himself didn't seem to despair much about the present company. Neither should I. At very least, not until this battle is over. Then we'll need to start worrying not only about that, but also about the victors of this battle and along with it, this war... And if they would let us go home freely, or take us to hell knows where.


Baibars

"Tell the men to keep their guard up, and alert our city-dweller allies about that as well. Gilane is held by the Heartlanders according to what we know, and even if it is not, from what the Barcas told me it seems the allegiance of the cities of Hammerfall is a fickle thing these days."

Shirkuh nodded, galloping off along the column. Baibars watched his brother's back for a moment, before raising his eyes up to the skies.

Tall Papa bless us... We must make our way past Gilane quickly, and if possible without any brushes with the Heartlanders. Once the armies clash, the fate of our homeland will hang in the balance; and if we are not present... Who can tell. Perhaps this entire war will be lost, the Ra Gada cause will be lost, our freedom will be lost... We will be lost. The Heartlanders will not take well to this rebellion. It may have been our suicide, but it is also our last hope.

Whispering a prayer, Baibars Turned his face to the walls of Gilane. If they continued like this, they would hopefully reach the Vulnim Gate in time... Even if it was at the cost of precious fatigue. Hopefully, the battle would've started by then, and the Heartlanders and their allies, the ashskins and the palefaces, would be similarly worn out.

OOC: In case some one missed the discussion in the Timeline thread, I'm taking over Lord Magiku's characters. This post is just for Sadryn Heleran, but one's coming for his others.

Hlaalu Forces ? night before present

The scorpion was slightly smaller than housecat, but was many times more dangerous. Its pedipalps, or claws, were not only powerful enough to crush small human bones, but were also razor-sharp to allow it to pull flesh from potential prey and its gleaming black exoskeleton (which made Sadryn think, somewhat nostalgically, of the shalks of Vvardenfell) was about as hard to pierce as platemail.

The creature's most horrifying feature, however, was its stinger, which was approximately the same size and shape as the wickedly curved daggers of the Redguards. A white, milky fluid ? venom ? was dripping slowly from the end of this stinger.

And the damn thing was twitching, still moving even after Sadryn had bashed it ? repeatedly ? with the pommel of his sword and one of the pikeman had speared it. Oblivion! How I hate this gods-forsaken land!

"General? Are you all right, sir?" It was the pikeman who had killed the Deadra-spawn. Sadryn opened his mouth to answer, but found that he was having difficulty breathing. His breath sounded raspy in his own ears, and the world seemed to be rocking gently.

He toppled.

"Dammit! N'wah must've stung him!"

"There! Right there, just under his knee! OH, DAMN! That's one heck of a hole! I'll get a healer!" That thought Sadryn groggily is Endril's voice. Why can't I see anything?

"Ho there, soldier! What's this?" A new voice, crisp, authoritative and female. The voice of Ujo Vern, captain of Sadryn's noble pikemen, as well as his second-in-command. "What's going on here?"

"It's the General, m'lady. He was attacked by that monster scorpion, and stung?"

"Healer! We need a healer! Damn! I thought those monsters kept to the desert?"

"AH! Here's Endril with the healer!"

The was the sound of footsteps coming to a skidding halt, and then Sadryn felt a cool touch just below his knee. After a moment Ujo cleared her throat.

"Well?"

The healer spoke, voice raspy from years living in the Ashlands. "He'll live. The venom's not fatal, and the wound itself shouldn't be hard to patch up. The poison itself is inducing paralysis, blindness, impaired mental functions; but all are temporary, and there are certain potions to flush it out of his system quicker. We'll need to move him though ? I can't patch him up here."

"Will he recover enough to fight ? tomorrow?"

"M'lady, I'm not?" The healer sighed. "Fight? No, likely not. Command? Perhaps ? impossible to say."

There was a heavy silence. Ujo's breath hissed out between her teeth.

Sadryn passed out.


------------


Hlaalu Forces ? Present

Sadryn Heleran opened his eyes.

"He's alive ? He's awake! Lady Ujo! Lady Ujo! Sadryn's awake!"

Edril's voice, young, fresh and na?ve. Sadryn considered closing his eyes again and feigning sleep, but it was too late ? looming above him, like the moons above the Alik'r, was Edril's face.

"You've awakened, Sadryn! UH ? that is, Lord Brigadier General Heleran. And just in time?"

Damn the lad. Still hasn't learned the proper terms of address.

"..the battle's starting any minute and?"

What?!

Sadryn sat straight up and tried to shout, only to choke on a mouthful of vile tasting phlegm.

"Don't excite him Endril. The battle is not just about to start." This was Ujo, cool and slender in her chitin armor. She was holding a vial of red fluid ? a health potion. "The healers said you should drink this. How's your leg feel?"

"Hurts like hell."

She nodded. "And your head?"

He stopped and considered. "It actually feels pretty good. Better than it has in months, really."

"Good." She took a deep breath. "You've been out nearly eight hours."

"What's happened in those eight hours?"

"I've set the men to digging themselves in. The Legion command called a meeting of the Allied commanders ? which I attended in your name. The brown-skins are drawn up somewhere south of us. The battle is going to happen ? today. I told none of the other commanders your precise predicament - only that you had been somewhat wounded and had sent me in your place." She took another deep breath. "I will be honest - I would like to command the men today... but I am not sure I am capable of doing so alone. You, however, are in no shape to command, either. I don't think you'll be able to walk, or at least not without support. It seems that I need you - and I know you need me. Are you capable?"

He nodded, once, slowly.

It's going to be a long day.

Vulnim Gate Mountains

Iveri decided very quickly that she detested horses. This was not uncommon for a Dunmer ? horses were rare in Morrowind, at least outside of Dres and mainland Hlaalu territories, and there were Dunmer ? from Vvardenfell, mostly ? who had never even seen a horse. Iveri wasn't that bad, but now that it came to actual riding? To put it lightly, she hated it.

Her back hurt, her butt hurt, her head hurt. Even her shoulder, supposedly healed yesterday by Marsha, was throbbing sympathetically.

As if it could read her thoughts, the chestnut beast she was riding turned its head to cast a baleful eye on her and snickered softly. Iveri kicked it ? hard ? in the ribs cursing under her breath.

The mountain pass the little army was passing through was the Vulmin Gate Pass, evidently one of the most feared places in Hammerfall. Iveri, when she had been in the town of Vulmin Gate the first time, had heard a few whispers, but nothing definite, and certainly she had seen nothing to strike fear in herself.

But perhaps she spoke too soon. The group was passing along the trail in unnatural silence. The mages were apprehensive and tense, while the mercenary Band, near the front of the line, seemed grim and meditative. Iveri had just spurred her way forwards, planning to strike up a conversation, when the screeching started.

?the Hell?

Iveri stuck close to Hukral and strung her bow. Speaking to no one in particular, she asked, "Why so somber? I doubt that there's any type of Hammerfall beastie that really wants to take a swipe at a group as large as ours!"


Allied Line, Hlaalu Forces

Sadryn Heleran, left leg swathed in crimson-stained linen bandages, leaned heavily on a bamboo cane and surveyed his troops from a sort of earthen rise. Ujo Vern had done well. Down below men were hacking down bamboo stalks and either sharpening the ends to use in the rapidly-assembled chevaux de frise, or splitting it lengthwise to tie to others in large, raft-like structures intended to be used as protections against the enemy's arrows.

Another team of Dunmeri was digging a series of narrow pits. Lining the sides of these pits were the punji sticks ? sharpened bamboo stakes, pointed at a downwards angle, so that any man or beast unfortunate to step in said pits would have to pull their leg up against the force of the stakes, mangling their leg and hopefully crippling them. To make these gruesome things even nastier, Ujo ordered that they be coated in waste from the latrines, so that they were likely to cause infection. In front of these pits, they would put their caltrops, and behind them the chevaux de frise and the troops. Speaking of caltrops?

"Lady Ujo," said Sandryn turning towards her. "You'd best send someone to the Imperial camp after those caltrops. For all you know, the Bretons have requisitioned them all by now."

Ujo nodded, and strode off, instructing a runner to get to the Legion camp and find her caltrops ? "On the double!"

Edril, now alone with Sandryn on the mound, cleared his throat. "M'lord. May I ask you a question?candidly?"

Sandryn glanced at his squire and his gaze softened. "Of course," he said, not unkindly. "Ask at will."

"M'lord, I have always thought the Lady Ujo fanatically ambitious. If that is so, why has she not ? now that she has had the chance ? taken your place? Why leave you in command?"

"Ahh? An interesting question. You may be more intelligent than you look, lad. Yes, Ujo Vern is, as you say, 'fanatically ambitious'. But she is also deviously clever. In her current co-command, Ujo is perfectly placed to claim the glory if we succeed ? and to blame me if we fail."

"But?m'lord ? you know this, and you do not object?"

Sandryn sighed. "Listen Edril. This will be my final battle, one way or another. I have served Morrowind loyally all my life. Now it is time I live my own life. Should we win this battle, I will request from Helseth my honorable discharge. Should we lose, well, I don't intend on returning."

"M'lord, you do not intend fighting! Do you?"

Sandryn smiled wanly, and gazed out over the plain. "Look at this Edril ? this is no way to fight. Behind trenches and bamboo walls! What are we, Imperials? And I'm even being forced to command like an Imperial ? back far from the action! Pah!" He spat to the side.

"No Edril, I will not fight. But I still have my honor. Will you swear something to me?"

He's not going to make me beat him again, is he? "?Of course m'lord."

"Promise me that if we lose this battle you will help me plunge this sword of mine into my guts!"

(Very quietly, the response:) "Yes, m'lord."

OOC: Post is being written up as we speak. Or rather, as your read my post and slap your head at the return of Teh Curse brakarz!
Time to finish this fight Tidus!


IC:

Cyric Lathander

The sound of insects singing in the still night air, searching for a mate, filled Cyrics ears. The sound was almost soothing but at the same time un-nerving, such tranquillity before a battle had never been a welcome thing in Cyric's eyes. He was a man of action, anticipation had no place in his heart, nor did patience.

His men, ever loyal to their gods and commander, followed in his wake. Unlike the barbaric Nords who deserted them after the fire at Dragon Grove, or the rest of the army who where drafted elsewhere by the legion. The Knights where lefts to their own devices, they remained loyal to their leader. Something he would be ever grateful for.

The plains began relenting to plant life, the dried brush slowly turning to lush bamboo and plant life, where the allied forces laid in wait. It was easy enough to find, all he had to do was follow the rats fleeing from the area. They fed in abundance on bamboo, the presence of so many foreign creatures such as men would not be welcome to the animals living in the forests habitat.

Eventually they made their way into a clearing just east of Andary's. Large enough to make camp for his men, the horses would be able to rest just outside the clearing.

Cyric slowed his horse for a seconds before coming to a halt, his men followed suite.

"Build a camp here, Rest easy. I will return after I speak with Andary's Dres." Cyric muttered to the Redguard beside him, Sir Thedret, who still bore scars from the last time they met with Raga forces. Vengance burned in his eyes.

Cyric carried on riding west, through small groups of soldiers preparing for the coming battle. Many Argonians littered the Dres camp. The crusader couldn't help but wonder if they where slaves forced into battle by the Dunmer. The Empire would never sanction such a thing, though it would easily go unnoticed by those of importance in the political world, what with the distractions provided by war.

"Can I trust you with my horse?" He asked one timid looking Argonian. He seemed to recognise the Cyric, or perhaps he recognised the relics once from the legends of Pelinal Whitestrake. Or perhaps he was just unnerved by the sight of a heavily armoured stranger entering the camp, Cyric couldn't understand the logic behind that if he was. They outnumbered him thousands to one, even he didn't like those numbers.

Eventually the Argonian nodded and took the reigns from him as he dismounted. Tugging the stallion over out of the way. Cyric watched him wearily as he meandered through the mass of soldiers, both Dunmer and Argonian. He really liked his horse.

He spotted who he assumed to be Andary's at the front of the army, out in the open, exposed. Though there was no sign of threat, Cyric was always on the cautious side. Some may say paranoid, he'd say weary. It wouldn't be the first time the leader of an army had been assassinated.

"Andary's Dres I assume?" Cyric spoke loudly, trying to impose his presence on the scene, or at least trying to catch the Dunmers attention. He removed his helm before continuing, holding it under his shielded arm with some discomfort. "I am Cyric Lathander, Devine Crusader of the Nine Devines, I come before you to offer my steel and malice. Will you accept and allow me to aid you In the coming battle?"

Baibars

As the sun was rising, Baibars couldn't help but think that this may have been the last dawn for many of the men gathered today to do battle against each other. Perhaps it was also the last dawn for himself; who knew, perhaps this was also the last dawn for himself. HoonDing guide our warriors' arrows today. A new day... a new carnage, a bloodbath of proportions unheard of in the history of the Desert Peoples. This will be a new Ra Gada.

The massive mountains that formed the Vulnim Gate loomed a short way ahead. They were nearly there... Has the battle been joined yet? Baibars' heart started beating faster. Battle was not yet upon them, but the thrill was there, in every man, every woman. Even the children seemed to understand what was about to come, despite their age and innocence. Innocence that would, perhaps, soon be lost... If they lost the battle, then their children would not enjoy a peaceful life. They would have to hide from enslavement, extermination by the Heartlanders. They would fight all their lives, the fires in their hearts would grow to be even fiercer than those that burned now in every Ayuub warrior...

Baibars blew the Khan Horn, and the colon stopped for a moment. All the men turned, their faces grim, their eyes sorrowful, towards their loved ones. Many would not meet again, except upon death. Death would catch up with the Ayuub Tribe if the city dwellers and the desert peoples would falter; with the Ayuub Tribe and the entire peoples of Yokuda. Their culture would be gone, but at its last moment, it would shine the brightest.

Now the time came.

Blowing the Khan Horn again, Baibars turned to face the imposing Vulnim Gate, the place of darkest legends. His horn was accompanied by the yells of his warriors, and as one, they spurred their horses onwards; no, merely turned them, for their mounts burned with the same desire to fight as their masters. Baibars' last thought before his horse darted off was about Helios and his men - would they keep up with the initial rush towards the Vulnim? They had to cover the distance towards the mountains as fast as possible, and sweep away any Heartlanders that may have held that end. Then, they'd need to make their way through the pass quickly, and join the true battle.

Arrows were notched into bows, lances were grasped tighter. The mahouts of the Lutemonsters yelled, the Great Children of Alik'R joining them with loud roars.

Now the Ra Gada descended.

Septimus Aquila lent back in his chair. All the paraphernalia of war was spread before him. maps, charts, a compass, tables of unit strengths, lists of reserves, and quartermaster reports were some of the mountain of paperwork that he set about climbing today.

Then there was the brandy. The tin cup of the sweet alcoholic stuff was close at hand. It comforted him when he felt overwhelmed and soothed him when he felt frayed. There was always the brandy... The map that he had of the lainlyn battlefield was spread before him like a virgin ready to give up it's hard earned fruit. He inspected every line, and ink stain on the parchment, trying his utmost to pull the desires of his enemy from the dried pulp pages.

He will move against me in force with his cavalry. It is in the cavalry that this engagement will be decided.... Aquila watched in his mind's eye as the rebel cavalry moved in faded inky lines towards King Helseth. Helseth He was the weakest link in the military chain. So that's it then....The engagement will be decided by enemy cavalry meeting with Lord Helseth on my front left flank...

And so the battle that could very well decide the fate of an empire, and certainly decide the fate of a drunken nord general, would all lie on the shoulders of the enemy cavalry commander attacking the lines of his ally, Lord Hlaalu Helseth, king of morrowind.

And thus, a complicated and difficult problem was turned into something as easy as a flip of a coin. So Aquila drank...

Noon in Lainlyn (Earlier)

Merchant's Inn
(Scene written to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQDC4hkVSMM&feature=related)

The inn seemed fairly basic with the exception of the bath house section of which the inn was literally built around. The Redguards considered the Imperials who had built the bath house as indecent for not splitting up the bath and made their own modification in these respects but the over all integrity of the architecture was maintained. Michelle had been left by Serosi at the bath while he went out and regretably sold her clothing in order to get some money and buy her something that would not stand out as much. She sat on the stone bench alone, a wet cloth hugged shly to her chest draping itself down over her lap. The other women seemed to be deep in conversation with gossip of the day's happenings. Laughter and the sound of water splashing echoed through the room. It didn't seem like anyone was staring at her. She had no reason to be shy, no other men were present nor was she unpleasant to see.

After a few moments of reassuring herself Michelle turned on the bench to her right placing her right foot on the bench and clenching the wet cloth in her hands began scrubbing her ankle after dipping it in the pot of hot water beside her. She tried remembering what had happened on the Aldmeri Sunbird. She remembered getting on the magestic ship and getting to the captain's deck but the rest she couldn't remember. By the time she had awakened neither Mercury or Swims-in-Shadows were there. Did Serosi kill them too? No, he had no reason to do such a thing. He had a tendency to be forceful although there seemed to be this gentle nature she sensed but couldn't see. She could only take it on faith.

"May I join you?" A soft voice almost made Michelle jump. Her eyes turned toward the left spotting an elegantly lovely Bosmer girl with long dark auburn hair, deep green eyes and a gentle smile. A white cloth hung down from her shoulders over her chest and she held a pot of water in her arms leaning slightly back to counter balance it's weight.

"...oh sure of course heh..." After a pause Michelle replied in an unsure manner. She tugged her ankle closer to herself making room for the elven girl to sit. She seemed about Michelle's age, maybe slightly older though one could never tell with elves. Michelle was of partial Dunmeri lineage though she looked nothing like it.

"I saw you sitting here alone and I don't know anyone else here." The elven girl placed the pot by the bench and sat to Michelle's right. She pulled the cloth off of her shoulders and soaked it in the water before rubbing it down the length of her arm. Her skin seemed flawless, a light olive complexion and her over all frame was light, typical of elves of both genders.

"Yeah, we're just passing through Lainlyn." Michelle spoke with a rather monotone voice as if half asleep almost. She dipped the cloth in her jar again and ran it up her leg and stomach and to her under arm. "Why are you in Lainlyn? Do you live here?" She added trying her best to sound friendly.

"I do some work for the Mages Guild, running errands and what not. Oh how rude of me I didn't even tell you my name. I'm Parthia." She placed her right heel on the edge of the stone bench scrubbing her leg with the cloth as she leaned the side of her head against her knee with her face turned toward Michelle as she spoke and offered a smile with her name.

"I'm Michelle, nice to meet you Parthia." She returned the smile as her cloth was used against her shoulders reaching toward her back.

"And you as well. Here turn around." Parthia placed her cloth on her lap before taking Michelle who complied with the directions and turned around. Gently but thoroughly she scrubbed down the entire length of her back. "Who did you mean by 'we' passing through Lainlyn? Is it that handsome Dunmer? Is he your boy friend?" Parthia seemed naturally curious.

An ear tickling giggle eminated from Michelle as she slightly blushed. Parthia seemed to be a sort of a sister that she had always wanted. Growing up as a single child was lonley especially in her circumstances. Necromancy had filled that void at an early age but not completely. The living were much warmer personalities. "Yea, mister dark and mysterious. Though he's not my boy friend. I wish he was. I don't think he likes me." Michelle turned around sitting normally on the bench placing her left foot on her right knee and scrubbing her sole clean.

"I don't know why he wouldn't like you. Maybe he doesn't like girls?" Parthia shrugged looking away in thought.

"I don't think he likes anybody." The two girls looked at each other laughing lightly at Michelle's comment.

"Well people like that remind me of a plant my father and I would raise back in Valenwood. It was a type of flower vine that had petals usually wrapped around themselves tightly almost in the shape of an arrow head. It was a dismal black color and smelled bitter. Only after it rained for weeks on end followed by much sun light did the flower bloom and had the sweetest smell. Moody people like him can turn out like that sometime. I'd hate to think it is any other way for someone like him. Just give it time, but if you can't wait i'll help you kidnap him and we won't give him a choice regardless of how shy he is." Another series of laughter followed after Parthia's advice.

"Maybe you could come with us. To be honest i'm not too sure if Serosi and I will stay together once we finish our journey..." A sad look came over Michelle's face. Parthia placed her hand on her shoulder.

"Maybe, but if I can't I want you to have one of these." Parthia reached down sliding an anklet down her foot and reaching to Michelle's foot lifting it up and sliding the circlet up. They each had a matching anklet now on opposite ankles.

"Wow thank you very much, it's so pretty." Michelle turned her leg slightly looking at it with a smile. "Thank you!"

"Now we're like sisters. Here lean forward let me wash your hair." Parthia placed her hand against the back of Michelle's neck lifting her blonde hair forward as she leaned with the gentle push of the hand. Michelle was still sitting on the stone bench only leaned forward with her face by her knees and her hair hanging down. Parthia pulled her jar of warm water over her thigh leaning it over until she poured a bit on the back of Michelle's head. Who would have thought she'd make such a good friend so easily?

Lainlyn Streets

From roof top to roof top Serosi ran across and leapt. Behind him a trail of angered Redguards in persuit. The foreign presence was not appriciated at all and the thugs would use any excuse to try to rob him. They were swift hunters, nomads of sorts thinking to themselves that they were chasing a graceful stag as he leapt dramatically from the ends of buildings to the others just out of their reach. The souls below were totally unaware of the skies above, rapid foot steps onto of the old styled Redguard buildings and gripped finger tips on the edges of features for those who did not have the ability to leap as far. Although most did as they were lightly equiped, most carrying a nomad's saber and bow leaving Serosi the most heavily armed. It had been good he also had sold the fore arm rings allowing him to be lighter of step and quicker with his blade as well but he could not lose the nomads. Short term yes, but in the long term they would find him being one of the rare if not the only Dunmer in Lainlyn.

Serosi decided to stop at the next roof top seeing something that may be of use. Wet laundry had been hung on the roof top by a woman who was now turning to go back down the stone steps holding a jar of water on her shoulder. She gasped at the sight of a Dunmer dropping her jar. Serosi quickly grasped the water full item by the mouth and held it. She shook her head in fear taking steps back. Quickly Serosi kicked closed the wooden hatch like door to the bottom level. He didn't need her to alert any one else of their presence.

"So not only do you attack our city and force our merchants to over pay for your junk but now you harrass our women too?" The lead redguard spoke with disgust in his voice. Several other Redguards had also caught up and had drawn their sabers grinning devilishly. They thought they had cornered a stag, but instead the wolf had chosen the place there they would die.

In a swift movement and two spins Serosi flung the war toward the Redguards, the liquid freezing in the air and impaling their bodies with shards of ice. All but the adept at the arcane would remain ignorant of the series of complex spells and control used to execute such a terrible strike. Alteration was used to lighten the water and jar as he spun, and just before he flung the war alteration was again used to make it as heavy as lead. Destruction had been used to sharpen the liquid into pieces of ice. No, most would not know what had been done, but what they did know was that three of the redguards wore red masks of crimson and were sprawling on the ground for air but breathing in only their own blood.

As the others remained amazed for a few seconds, Serosi grasped two wet articles of clothing and spun both wrists around quickly until both pieces of clothes were wrapped around themselves. And then again he used ice magic to freeze them. As steel flashed in the bright sun light like hungry teeth surrounding him, Serosi swung over head with one of the frozen shirts. The first redguard raised his blade to block it over head resulting in the straight shape of the frozen shirt to bend in two. The second half continued on its course striking the man in his face, alteration being the culprit of the many teeth and bone jarring crack that was heard. Serosi dropped low this time sweeping just above the ground with the other shirt striking two men off balance. Shin bones and knees were bruised and dislocated.

Now he would go on the offensive. Still being surrounded on all sides Serosi decided it would be best to strike hard into one direction instead of waiting for them to attack when they felt they had seen an opening. With a rapid flash of steel, Serosi's shamshir was drawn and in a yuko-esque manner the draw was also an attack scraping against another Redguard's blade. The attack was vicious as the crescent of steel danced through the air, the wind carressing it's graceful curves causing a song of terror to be played to the pattern of metal striking metal.

As he did this an attacker charged Serosi from behind. Perfect, the bait had been laid and now death. Serosi threw himself back drawing the hidden glass dagger from his back with his left hand and plunging it deep into the left row of ribs of the man behind him. On the buildings around this one several nomads had stayed behind drawing their bows and taking shots at Serosi who in turn used the wounded man as a pavise before throwing him atop the wooden hatch which the woman slowly walked toward. Even to Serosi's surprise the wooden hatch burst open flinging the dead man off. Only four nomads remaind, one infront of Serosi and the other three on the other buildings with their bows drawn. Who had come up to greet him?

Remaining wordless but presenting her typical smile, slight and just enough, Corsica stepped out into the sun light. He hadn't seen her in quite a while, the non Morag Tong assassin he would work with on the side. Serosi was unsure what to make of the whole scenario. He wasn't sure, but he was ready to react.

Baibars

Meeting no resistance, the Warrior Wave stopped for a moment. The Vulnim towered above the nomads' heads, but that was not why they stopped - in an hour like this, the thin line between legend and reality was no more, the spirits of their forebears possesing the Ra Gadas' bodies, HoonDing walking Tamriel once more in the form of this body of men that became a single entity; thus, they didn't have to fear the legends any longer, as none were sure whether they were real men or just legends, tales told in front of the fireplace with pride.

As the enormous Desert Children, the Lutemonsters, stomped into the gate, the Warrior Wave moved again, funneling into the narrow gate. Baibars, at the very head of his men, could see Shirkuh off to the side, urging the Ayuubs onwards, waving the war banner of the tribe. Except that the men didn't need urging - indeed, they needed restraining, lest they poured out from beneath the Striders, overtaken with righteous rage, and possibly ruined everything in one rash move. No, Baibars knew perfectly well what was at stake, thus he did his best to make sure no warrior dared ride out too far ahead. The nomads moved through the Gate without a noise, save for the countless horse hooves and feet beating against the ground they were fighting to protect, and the titanic steps of the Lutemonsters, echoing through the mountains.

With the thrill of the battle so close, the Gate was cut through swiftly; in no time, Baibars could see the light, where the mountains opened their massive jaws, trying to swallow the field below. With the end so close, the battle so near, the Ayuubs slowed their pace, like a giant snake, slowing before leaping forth to bite the enemy and poison his body. For one last time, Baibars lifted the Khan Horn up to his lips...

The horn roared loudly, soon joined by the great War Horns of the Tribe, the yells of the warriors, the roars of the Lutemonsters. This terrifying warcry of the Ayuub Tribe rolled over the fields, forests and mountains for what may have very well been the last time, signifying to friend and foe alike that the Sons of the Desert, Warriors of Alik'R, spewed forth from the dunes of the Great Desert, had arrived.

Neesha's horse paced forward along with the rest of the company. Vulnim's Gate, and it's legendary menace, fell on the silent Ra'Gada. She was no stranger to mountains, but the gate was nothing like the mountains her family called home. It was with great relief that they finally passed through, and hope sprung once more as they stepped out.

She turned to Helios, but his eyes were distant - gazing ahead but focusing on nothing. Why does that man think so much? His thoughts leave little room for the emotion of battle. I will never understand his musings or why he chose the warrior's path.

It was at that moment that the tribe paused - a deep breath before the roar. She watched as the Khan tilted the horn to his lips and her voice cried out along with the rest of her countrymen. Her horsemanship skills exceeded any in her company and she considered herself equal with those of the Ayuub. It was with great joy that she urged her horse forward, not waiting for a sign from Helios, and melded into the wave of warriors.