Guillaume de Bergerac 7:13 am

It seemed to Guy as he stood there that everything... paused for a second. His confrontation speech was fading away and all he could hear was a steady pounding behind his ears as he received a heady shot of adrenaline, the group seemed cautious and the tension between the four of them was palpable as Guy watched the wood elf crouch slightly, as if bracing himself.

The beat sped up.

Vaguely he was aware of the woman stepping back slightly, mouthing a few short words. At the same time, behind the group someone walked out of a building. The world was moving slowly now, colours were sharper and Guy could feel the intricate metal work on the pommel of his blade as his hand gripped ever tighter, eyes flitting restlessly around, taking in information, waiting for one of the elves to make a move. And then...

Green. Although Guy didn't know it, the magic washed over him, relaxing his tense body and tucking in a warm blanket over his mind. Why should he attack these elves? They seemed to be such amiable people, they'd never done a thing to him... He noticed the Bosmer had also relaxed slightly and Guy grinned at the shorter man stupidly for a second or so before he realised that the Breton woman, the one that he would've had to... Came to save, was speaking.

"I don't think you'll need that sword. I'm arriving, these two seems about to leave." She looked down at the unconscious bandit, sprawled on some leftover planks from the door "And that one is passed out from a tavern brawl. I don't think there's any cause for trouble."

Guy nodded, it seemed reasonable to him and she seemed so sure about it.

"I.. okay then"
He said, sounding dazed

Dhar, 1:00 AM

On the third push, Dhar opened the door, and a dead horse with an arrow through it's abdomen rolled to the side. Dhar looked up and there was fighting everywhere. He saw an arrow come out of nowhere and hit a male prisoner in the face, flinging him down the ladder and causeing other prisoners to fall as well. It was complete chaos. Dhar drew his sword and decided to make it more chaotic. There were about 20 mer that must've snuck up on his men, and he took a slash at one in the middle of firing an arrow. The blood exploded from the mer's shoulder, the corpse falling to the ground.

Dhar noticed an altmer in the middle of casting a fire spel at Dhar about 8 feet away. It took all Dhar's strength to leap to mage and slaughter him. The spell discharged, a fireball going straight up to the air.

Then, Dhar felt a sharp pain in the back of his knee. He immediately fell to the ground in the midst of battle. Then his breathing started to get tight, he started to go in and out of consiousness. Then, everything faded out and his head fell to the dirt. Dhar's last glimpse was of an Imperial stabbing a Dunmer through the lower gut, and a sharp cry go through the battlefield.

Seeing everyone acting more relaxed Elissandre allowed herself a moment of relief. But she knew her spell was anything but subtle. She would have preferred a gradually increasing effect, which would have felt almost natural to it's targets. But the lack of time had limited her choice. And very few peoples enjoyed having her feelings twisted around. Even for a short time and their own good. But at least she could speak without being attacked.

She was about done with the thought when the agitated bosmer spoke about getting back somewhere, being the only healer of whatever group he was part of. "I am a healer too. If you need some help I'm willing to offer it, as long as your friends aren't a band of killers. I choose who I'm healing from how they're acting, not the shape of their ears."

She paused for a few seconds. "Speaking of acting, I think you have all noticed to be calmer than you should expect. It's because I used a calming spell for it." She looked a bit down, embarrassed "I apologizes for tricking your minds that way. I assure you there's no foul play on my part. I only want to make sure no fight get started on a hasty decision or a misunderstanding.". She hoped playing with an open hand would be enough to keep heads level once her spell wore off. Which would be soon.

Dhar, 1:00 PM

Dhar slowly opened his eyes, awakening to the light of the day and the sun shining straight up. Dhar also awakened to the sharp pang behind his left knee. He twisted his head to see an arrow sticking out of his knee. He knew it had poison on it, which made his breathing tight but it had worn off. He still needed a professional to get it out.

Dhar gasped and whipped his head side to side. Where are they? Where is everyone?Dhar saw dead horses, men and mer strewn across the ground, but there was none of his troops around. They must have dismissed Dhar as dead and gone back to camp. So, I'm on my own now, Dhar thought. He needed to get to some kind of protection, a tavern or Inn of some sort. Dhar steadied his left kneww, and pushed off with hirs right knee. Dhar had to leave the arrow in his leg, he always heard that if you have a projectile in you, don't take it out, wait for someone else. Dhar started limping toward where he had came from, his camp, miles east of here. He looked around for a horse, but there was none. Dhar would have to limp his way 'home'.

OOC:where is everyone right now, like where's the tavern with Manu and Ceglai, and where's the trade caravan? Mayhaps I can join you?

OOC: Iain MC and I are at the nordern borders if hammerfell, the rest (Bsparrow, evil pidgeom and manu) is at a tavern near the imperial city. I am pretty much stuck here, Iain hasn't answered /reacted for a while. I PMed him to ask whats happening, but there is no response. what should i do? Can't go IC without Iain Mc... :shrug:

OOC: Guys I'm sorry but I can't continue you Rp anymore, school work =P.
Darn I really liked this one too... You can control my character or kill me off if you like .

Thanks

Apoc, 7:14 am , a few days later, near Imperial City

After travelling for three or four more days, Apoc and Fedris arrived at the next camp, which was already in Hammerfell, a bit more to the West of Dragonstar. He left the caravan just outside the camp, due to the fact that he was elfish and did not accept the Loyalty Clause and had therefore still pointed ears. He left also the elves there, recommending them to stay away from men, but not wanting to spoil their relief of finding civilization after so many days of wandering through such rough lands.

Apoc and his men (and mer) received their reward properly. A lot of them parted from there and left the life of a mercenary for good. Gaulras, his second in command, and his brother had had enough of such a risky lifestyle and told his captain that they were leaving.

“So this means farewell?”

“Yes.”

“Then go, and three blessings upon you, Breton.”

“Thank you.”

That’s all what they said. Without further due, Apoc dismissed the rest of his men and took his tent to sleep out in the wilderness. Fedris accompanied him.
The next time Apoc woke up he knew something was wrong… Well it WAS wrong when you go to sleep to your tent and then wake up in a shady room, with the feeling of having slept for two days in a row.

Leaning onto his elbow, he looked at his surrounding and found out what he already suspected: a shady room lacking of the proper furniture. He was lying on a mattress and there was nothing more, only the walls, the ceiling covered in humus and the walls of half rotten wood. The light source was a little window by his side.

Apoc got up and tried to remember what happened. The only thing he remembered was that he was on his way to Evermore with his caravan… nothing more. And now he was here, alone. The warmage stepped to the window and looked out. His confusion and distress only grew stronger: On his left there was the tall, once proud White Gold Tower of the imperial City!

What is going on here?

He looked down and saw that he was actually in the second floor of a two floor high building, and what made everything more interesting was the fact that right under his nose, a female and a male Breton, a dunmer, a bosmer were standing calmly around a figure which seemed to be some kind of men he did not know if he was dead or alive.

What is going on here? He thought to himself again.

Questions and more questions were building up inside him. He turned to the mattress and recognized his equipment. After checking everything to the last detail he reckoned that nothing was missing, everything was at its proper place, he even had his cuirass on. Strange, definitely strange. Apoc decided to put all his armor on, which consisted of steel gauntlets, his iron cuirass, his steel boots and his ebony right shoulder pad, and put everything on its place to leave as soon as possible. He ran down the stairs avoiding any eye contact, hiding his face under his hood, and exiting the tavern through the door frame. Wow, it seems Cyrodiils hospitality changed a bit since the last time I visited it.

His first impression of the situation changed everything drastically, because he felt suddenly so calm that he didn’t even care that there were in the heart of Cyrodiil three elves with uncut ears staring at a Breton who was holding his weapon in a way he felt uncomfortable having it, like he knew it was inappropriate for the situation.

Apoc murmured: “By Azura, what on earth is going on here?”

OOC: Sry for making it so messy, but I couldn't find another way to get quicker to the action. Let's pretender the Guardians did that to my char, with a sleeping potion or sth similar and then with teleportation. I hope that goes with anyone here. :unsure:

Ceglao, 7:14 am, Near the Imperial City

Ceglai's head jerked around--just a bit too twitchily to be normal--to look back at the woman. It put the man with the sword to his back, but it was obvious by the man's drugged expression that he was no threat for the moment.

As the woman finished her explanation, Ceglai took a moment to get over his shock. Had... she just admitted to bespelling them? Her, a human, admitted to bespelling elves? As if the common courtesy of honesty between the races hadn't been lacking for longer than either of them had been alive.

He swallowed a lump from his throat. This was him under a Calm spell? He was still twitchy and exciteable... he much be a real emotional wreck.

"Because you were honest with us just now," he said to the woman, "I will be honest with you. My comrades were--ARE--killers. But not without just cause! We were all mer done a terrible wrong by men..." he cut himself off, the familiar words ringing hollow to his Calmed ears.

He was thinking clearly, with his full mind, instead of just the part that carried his rage and his memories, and his band's mantra sounded... hollow?

No! It's justice! It's revenge!

It's killing innocents for the crimes done by their government. She's right; it's wrong, and you know that on some level.

A wave of confusion washed over Ceglai and his legs buckled. He looked around with a lost expression and said quietly, "What's the point in defending them... they're already dead anyway. I've failed them."

He was so out of it that he didn't even notice a third mer come onto the scene.

With the tavern door out of her sight, Elissandre didn't spot the newcomer. She was too surprised by the effects of her spell on the anger-filled bosmer to hear him coming. It seemed that calming his fear and hatred had lifted the lid over a pile of confused emotions. That's odd. Maybe he was so wrapped in them that they smothered everything else. And now those smothered thoughts and feelings comes out.

"I can understand what they ? and you ? must have felt and why you did that sort of things. I can't excuse it." Elissandre sighed ."No more than I can excuse the loyalty camps, or the whole war while I'm at it. Whatever sense it might have had vanished at least one century ago - if it ever had any." Elissandre pointed at the ruined shell that had been the Imperial City "Men and mer have clung to their coffers, going to to war in fear of letting mere gold slip through their fingers. And managed to destroy hundreds of times more than they would have lost if their worst fears had materialized. Both sides of this idiocy have screwed up by the numbers and squandered whatever legitimacy they might have held. I can't fix that, but at least I try to mend whatever of the damage I find on my way."

Apoc neither had an idea what was happening nor could imagine or deduce the situation those people were in there. For the first time in decades he was completely confused. Are these the ones responsible for all this? Where on oblivion is Fedris?

He took a few steps towards a tall Dunmer with a traditional bonemold armor, who was the one standing the nearest to him, and decided to go straightforward with his question:

"Excuse me?.are you the Guardians?" His question was expressed with caution, but determination at the same time.

OOC: Terribly sry for short post, but i can't find inspiration right now. Sry again

OOC: Yes, I am Alive. I apologize for my absence, School kept me busy this week.

IC: Varus, 7:15

Varus wasn't affected to much by the calm spell, considering he was already calm. He looked over at the bosmer, who seemed to be filled with rage, confusion, and sadness over his comrades. The elf went on a tirade against the brenton as a another elf walked over. Looks like I'm attracting attention today

"Because you were honest with us just now," he said to the woman, "I will be honest with you. My comrades were--ARE--killers. But not without just cause! We were all mer done a terrible wrong by men..." the bosmer said, breaking down and muttering, "What's the point in defending them... they're already dead anyway. I've failed them." in his confusion. I have to give the brenton credit for her excellent use of the spell.

Varus stood up calmly as the calming spell slowly wore off. "The men may have done us wrong," Varus pointed towards the unconcious imperial on the ground, "But look at what we have done to them. No one is innocent anymore. There is no right and wrong now. Just choices that we must learn to survive with." Varus sat down and sighed. the calm spell had just about wore off from what Varus guessed.

And not a moment to soon. Varus heard several people inside the bar yell as he heard the sound of swords bieng drawn. Soon, fire was added to the mix to. Varus stood up and gimly drew his longsword. "Looks like there is a fight goin on. And I doubt we are going to be excluded."

Severla bandits ran out of the bar dragging a young, unconcious argonian. one bandit growled as he saw Varus. "Its the elf who got Gregor! get 'em and all his friends!" the bandit said. The 5 bandits dispersed bteween them, preparing to fight for their fallen comrade.

"If its a fight you want, I shall oblige." varus said, his grip on the sword tightening as he felt the calmness over him evaporate away.

OOC: Ack, sorry for the double post

[Welcom back]
Elissandre, 7.16

The older dunmer's reaction pleased Elissandre ? at least he too saw the blame-pinning and disputes over acceptable actions in the war for what they were. Pointless discussion, whose only purpose was dithering and shielding one from the uncomfortable truth that both sides of the war were to blame. And closely matched enough as to made any 'who's been worst' discussion pointless. Both sides had acted beyond redemption..

Elissandre was still in that chain of thoughts when a group of bandits came out.? their ragtag equipment mixing stolen luxuries and crude castoffs were obvious signs of their trade. They were dragging with them a knocked out argonian, and having seemingly exhausted the amusemant he could offer inside were now looking for more fun outside. Damn, looks these bastards are itching for a fight. I hate bullies.

Elissandre scowled when the pack leader ordered his bunch to 'get them', he and his buddies dispersing to make sure each one had his own intended victim. Though the scruffy brute facing Elissandre, tapping a club in his palm with a vicious leer hadn't murder in his mind. At least not before having taken another kind of fun. Elissandre backed off, exagerating the concern in her expression to the appearance of fear while her mind raced about what to do. making a rather convincing display of 'please don't hurt me' cowering. And fell back into using a classic combination which had served her well against lone would-be rapists.

With a few short words she released a spell, bringing into existence a powerful flash of light straight in the brute's face, the blinding light striking true. As the man bellowed, raising his hands to shelter his brutalized eyes, Elissandre used a second spell. She wasn't trained in destruction magic but nonetheless knew a few minor cantrips. Which she used, feeling the magic run along her arm, coalescing on her hand. She reached for the man's groin, discharging a burst of electricity where it hurt a lot even if didn't inflict more than minor burns . She had mostly used the spell to chase stray dogs away, but had found it surprisingly effective on humans.

As the wannabe victimizer abandoned his eyes to cup his abused crotch, bending and screaming, Elissandre grabbed his greasy hair and dragged his head farther down. Performing that old standby of alley fights : 'let me introduce miss head to mr knee'. She repeated it three more times until she felt the man going limp, then once more to make sure he wouldn't get up anytime soon. Not exactly an elegant technique, but she lacked size and strength to play fair and win in that sort of physical contests.

ooc: yaaaaay! For a while, I'd thought you'd abandoned this RP, Swift-Blade. Glad to see it's not so! :twirl:

Ceglai, 7:16

As the newcomer asked if they were the Guardians, Ceglai gave a bitter laugh from his spot kneeling on the ground.

For a moment, the Bosmer felt like he was back in the camp, listening to Elder Genevive expound upon the evils of war, and the wrongs done by both sides from beginning to end. No one had ever been quite sure why the aging Altmer did not just sign the Clause and find a nice corner of Hammerfell to write her memoirs. She had always been highly pacifistic, and had never given any of the overseers any trouble as part of her basic philosophy. Ceglai had never understood her. How could one who had witnessed the elves' mass secession and the aggression of the Empire against them be so gentle with them now?

Both the Breton's and the Dunmer's words reminded him of her. She would often gather the younger mer around herself at night, and tell them of what the Empire had been like in the early days of the 4th Era. She told them of the beautiful cities of Summerset Isle, of the heros that marked the end of the era--one of them the reborn Dunmer king Nerevar!--and of the curious moving capitol of Valenwood finally coming to rest, as if it could sense its doom.

Ceglai had listened to the stories, but never to the lessons that she had tried to weave into them. How could one believe that the overseers were just as wronged as the prisonners, when the overseers happily mutilated them and deprived them of basic rights?

But it seemed things weren't as black-and-white out here in the open; that was what Genevive had been trying to say. And that was what both of these people were saying. As the Calm spell wore off, and he felt the bubbling return of his anger, Ceglai wasn't so sure he wanted to listen.

He didn't get much time to decide. At that moment, a group of bandits burst out of the tavern and faced the group currently assembled outside it. A tall, lanky Imperial bearing a makeshift torch (made out of what appeared to be a table-leg) looked down at the Bosmer with a gap-toothed smirk.

"Ready to die, little elf?"

"You first," the Bosmer growled back, baring his teeth and already reaching into his bag.

The man charged him, swinging his torch like a club, but the Bosmer easily rolled to his side and onto his feet. The other bandit dogged close to him, not giving him room to draw his bow. Ceglai felt the heat of the torch lick his shoulderblade as he dodged away.

He just kept ducking and dodging while his right hand dug through the cool interior of his alchemy bag. Finally, his fingers landed on the crumbly, squishy ingredient he'd been looking for: crab meat. And down at the bottom should be that wedge of cheese he'd liberated from a campsite last week... Crumble them together, and you get one disgusting-tasting meal... but one useful potion for times like this.

He pulled the squishy, gooey mess out of his bag and slammed it into his mouth, licking his fingers as he dodged under the man's swing once again. The lanky bandit was getting frustrated--Ceglai had taken a couple glancing blows, and a handful of mild burns, but nothing life-threatening yet.

He chewed and swallowed, and felt warmth course through him as the sharp, tangy concoction went down. Then, a globe of heat surrounded him, pulling the fire right out of the torch (and out of a part of Ceglai's shirt that had apparently caught fire). The bandit stared dumbly at the snuffed torch for a moment, even as Ceglai was already pulling out a vial of health poison.

The bandit turned back toward him just in time to see the fire-shielded Bosmer leap at him and grab his lapels with his left hand. The bandit wheeled backwards, slamming the table-leg into Ceglai's back with surprising strength, considering how thin he was. Ceglai winced as one blow knocked the wind out of him.

The Bosmer deftly uncorked the vial and splashed it in the bandit's eyes. The Imperial shrieked as his eyes burned, stumbling back and dropping the torch. Ceglai jumped back and grabbed the table leg where it lay on the ground. He got around behind the blinded Imperial and swung the makeshift club as hard as he could over the man's head. The charred end broke off upon impact, but it nonetheless did the job, knocking the guy out.

Without even thinking about it, Ceglai brought the fight to its logical conclusion: drawng his skinning knife and bending over the bandit, he tilted the head back and sliced in until both the jugular vein and the windpipe were severed. It wasn't really a reflection of any refusal to listen to the Breton and Dunmer on his part, but rather an automatic response. When it came to fighting other bandits, you always had to kill them; that was the only way of resolving territory wars.

Then, standing over the bleeding corpse of the lanky bandit, Ceglai finally drew his bow. He looked around, in case anyone else needed help against the agressing bandits.

Varus, 7:16 AM

2 bandits decided to take Varus. One, who was clad in makeshift sttel, droped the arggonian who he had been dragging. Varus took a quic glimpse of the argonian and noticed a gold and silver ring on his right hand and what looked like a shortsword of some sort conceled in his pant leg. Why do they want him... and why didn't he fight back?

Varus dismissed the thought as one bandit, an altmer round ear, and the other steel bearing nord, drew swords and prepared for attack. Varus calmly dre his ebon blade and kept a stone expression on his face. Judging from the way the swords were held, the altmer was much more experienced than the nord, who held a tight grip with both hands on his claymore. The altmer held it loosley, delicately, in the form of old altmeri swordsman.

The Nord moved first, charging Varus with his claymore held high above his head. A fatal mistake. The nord was leaving his entire chest open to attack with his charge, a mistake Varus would not let him make twice. Varus lunged forward with his sword, The black tip piercing the crude armour with ease. The nord gasped as the sword penetrated his lung. The nord dropped the claymore and coughed blood onto Varus's dull yellow bonemold. Varus removed the sword and made a quick sideways slice on the mans chest before switching to the altmer, who was preparing for attack. the nord was now left with a pierced lung and a sizeable gash on his chest. varus estimated he would die quicky of his wounds.

The altmer spun the sword and quickly twisted his body around, bringing th momentum to bear on Varus. Varus quickly caught the altmer's steel blade with his own, the altmers blade hanging dangerously close to Varus's body. The altmeri swordsman style was swift, delicate, yet deadly, almost like a poem of war. Varus had learned this from his training as a dumeri swordsman. the Dunmer style, on the other hand, was efficient and smooth, not a movement wasted on a flourish like the altmer. He planned to capitalize on this against the dunmer. Varus pushed away the sword and let the altmer strike again. The altmer spun his sword and brought a quick high blow to bear unto Varus, Varus once again blocking it.

Varus pushed away the sword and the altmer began another technique, once again begining a twirl of the sword in front of himself, shielding his body as well as putting the altmer in an offensive stance. Varus, with deadly skill, quickly steped to the side and with an upwards slash rmoved the hand of the altmer, the hand and sword falling to the ground. The altmer yelled in pain, but was quickly silenced as Varus beheaded him.

Varus heard a cough and saw the nord was still alive on the ground, in a pool of his own blood. Tears ran down his face as well. Varus turned and lifted his sword, the bloody tip focused on the nords forehead.

"Be still, bandit." He said as he impaled the mans forehead. Removing his blade, he watched as the remaining bandit attempted to flee. varus wouldn't let him. Before the imperial could run, Varus slashed his hamstring, the man stumbling forward and falling to the ground in a yell. Varus Put his sword at the mans neck.

"Who's the argonian?" Varus asked forcefully

"He's one of those Guardian types! Wanted to try and get us and some other bandits... dirty elf type bandits I think, who were round here also." he said.

"Thats all I needed to know." Varus cut the mans throat and walked away. "That takes care of that. but now we have the argonian guardian to take care of. He doesn't look dead, just unconcious. If we leave him hear though, he's a dead man. Of course, he may be a dead man anyways." Varus said, sheathing his sword but keeping his hand on the blade, in case any other bandits were to attack.

Having dispatched her opponent Elissandre backed a bit to look how the other fared, readying a paralysis spell in case it would be needed. Which wasn't the case as soon all were dead. She hid a wince at the cold-bloodedness of the whole thing. Killing someone in the heat of battle she could understand, but finishing an enemy who was no longer a threat wasn't something she was comfortable with. And didn't want to become.

To change her mind from the unpleasant thoughts, she looked over the argonian. Her hands expertly running over him, checking for broken bones or other injuries. She could see no bleeding to suggest internal injuries, but nonetheless pooled her magic, casting a rather strong healing spell. She felt the familiar and heady warmth of magic gathering in her mind before flowing to her hands and then out into the bruised body. Mending his wounds, filling her with the almost ecstatic rush she felt each time. The feeling was almost addictive, mixing the rush of power, the feeling of magic working it's way on the recipient of the spell and the satisfaction of bringing life back into a broken body.

With a pang of regret she finished her spell, focusing back on the situation at hand. "I don't think he's got internal injuries and I didn't find any broken bones. I've done some magical healing just in case, but I think he's going to be fine."

OOC: Evil Pigeon has informed me he is still with this RP, he just cannot post today.

IC:
Varus

Varus nodded, "Thats good. Still, he probably wont regain conciousness for a while. But I say we protect him. The argonian may have some way for us to meet the guardians. And if you ask me, the guardians now hold more power over tamriel than the emporer itself. Bieng able to be on their side would be a great benefit. Plus, judging from the fact the healer is a wanderer, the bosmer lost all his comrades to the empire, and the brenton swordsman is stuck with that" Varus pointed to the Caravan which had stopped completley, "It would seem wise for you all to join me. Plus, travelling alone here is a death sentence if you lack the talent and luck of survival."

Varus kneeled down by the argonian and observed his facial fetures, young, untested, yet it gave Varus a sense that this argonian was willing to be one of the guardians. Even if he lacked their finesse.

Varus heard the roar of the fire of the tavern as the place collapsed upon itself. Standing up, he saw people run many directions, as the bartender who was rude to him before was now caught in the fire, burning alive as he screamed. A terrible way to meet ones end...

Not facing his newly found comrades, or possible comrades, Varus stared at the fire. "Also, my name is Varus Redoran" he said, motionlessly staring at the red hot fire in the morning breeze.

Ceglai

Despite himself, Ceglai watched the woman kneel over the Argonian, fascinated by the display of healing magic. There was nothing obvious about it--when he squinted, he could detect a slight glow around the woman's hands--but it was enough to pique his curiosity.

If what the 'interrogated' bandit had said was true, the Argonian had apparently been after his band. This meant two things, as far as the Bosmer was concerned. One: his comrades had probably been doomed anyway, and he with them, if all that was said about the Guardians was true. Two: the Argonian was still a potential threat. The smart thing to do was to slice his throat now, while he was helpless.

But the Bosmer made no move to do that. Instead, he was actually a little relieved when the Breton woman knelt down to heal the lizard. Ceglai stowed his bow and knelt down next to the cooling bandit corpse, watching the healer do something he had never had the chance to learn. His own skills were entirely self-taught, and teaching oneself magic was not an easy task in any situation, much less in a loyalty camp.

Ceglai was stabbed by twin pangs of jealousy and gratitude--jealousy that the woman knew an art he had never had a chance to learn, and gratitude that she had taken the decision of the Argonian's fate away from himself. Ceglai wasn't sure he'd have known what to do with the lizard, torn between healing him and slitting his throat.

While he watched the woman work, his own hands pulled off his gauntlets, redrew his knife, and started the grisly business of extracting the heart from the corpse, cracking upen the ribcage and cutting into the chest cavity. Human hearts were uncommonly useful alchemical ingredients, particularly when it came to healing potions. Even Ceglai's fellow bandits had been squeamish when he started cutting up corpses, but if Ceglai had ever been uncomfortable delving into the bodies, he couldn't remember it. Perhaps he was simply used to it, or perhaps there really was something wrong with him; he preferred not to think about it.

Ceglai had just reached the heart when the woman gave her diagnosis. Ceglai turned his eyes down to his business, so as not to accidentally rupture the organ. He tied off the veins and arteries, keeping it saturated with blood. Hearts were most potent that way.

The Bosmer winced as the Dunmer commented that his comrades were lost--hearing from someone else only confirmed his own suspicions--but nonetheless pursed his lips and nodded grimly, finally cutting out the heart. He pulled a piece of parchment coated in wax from his bag and wrapped the organ in it, then stowed it in the proper compartment. The Frost charm on the bag instantly bagan cooling it, preserving it.

He winced again at the sound of screaming, but didn't dare draw his bow to end the man's suffering when his hands were coated in blood. He pulled a disinfectent paste out of his bag and rinsed his hands off with his waterskin, then wiped it in the paste to help protect himself against disease.

As he washed the gore off his hands, he mumbled, "'M Ceglai. I don't have much choice... I'd never survive on my own. So whatever you wanna do, Varus, I gotta do too."

Elissandre listened to Varus's opinion. And shared at least some of them. "I don't know how powerful they really are and if they're living up to their repute. But I have experienced what life's like in Hammerfell. The Emperor is at best a rotten crook who would gladly toss Tamriel to the dogs to tighten his grasp on the share he controls. At worst a puppet bounced back and forth between a bunch of nobles and merchants who would gladly do the same. The guardians would need plenty of work to be worse than that." She looked down at the argonian "And if the bandit's story is true, he is our best chance to find out the truth about them."

From the corner of an eye she could see Ceglai cutting out his victim's hearth. She grimaced with disgust. Not at the cutting, being a healer had made her completely acquainted with men and mer's innards. But rather at the almost absent-minded familiarity with which he acted. What the hell is he going to do with that ? Eat it as a snack ? As far as I know such bits have few use in magic ? ranging from unsavory to soul-scorching.

She forced her voice into a semblance of normality "Whatever you're going to do with that heart, I'd suggested to get the corpse into the fire. I'd rather not give the locals one more excuse to get on our trail. Especially when they're of the sort to torch the tavern they were drinking in. The fire spread too fast for an accident."

OOC sorry about the wait, leaving Holiday work for the last few days is never a good idea
Guy

Guy stood dumbly as the bandits emerged from the tavern, he'd finally managed to shake off the effects of the calm spell and vaguely made an attempt to ready himself as they advanced. It quickly became obvious however that he wasn't needed as the bandits were dispatched with varied and colourful displays of skill and brutality. He simply stood there on the sidelines, watching with awe as the Dunmer easily dispatched three of them. To think he'd been about to attack the elf! Guy was fiercely aware for the first time in his life just how inadequate his training was in the face of real experience, it was terrifying to watch the three lay about the group of bandits.

And then, all of a sudden it was over and Guy was standing there still, the flickering light from the burning tavern colouring the blade that still hung loosely from his hand an angry orange and the shouts and screams of fleeing patrons bringing back memories of that final night of nobility as the shadowy raiders flitted in and out of houses, the night ablaze. He shuddered and immediately grew angry with himself for giving in to his discomfort. Anger gave him some strength, enough to look up at any rate and pay attention as Varus spoke, although he very pointedly ignored the Bosmer's behaviour. It was best he felt, to avoid doing anything to anger the little man even to the point of letting it get away with cannibalism. Guy wanted to avoid sharing the Bandits' fates if he could.

The Dark Elf mentioned the caravan and Guy felt a cold certainty that Attilus wouldn't be welcoming him back after this display.

I don't have much of a choice...

“My name is Sir Guillaume De Bergerac-”
Guy spied a few men starting to advance across from the still motionless caravan, the scuffle was unlikely to have bothered them but the fire certainly would've done, fire meant raiders.
“I think we may have to leave swiftly”

OOC: Just giving everyone a chance to catch up. Proceeding with RPing:

IC: Varus nodded at Guillarme's suggestion. "Indeed. We leave now. I would rather not have to deal with the legion. And I think the argonian may be coming to in a while, so we should get moving a bit. I have the horse, I'll keep the argonian with me on it. When he gets to, he may be able to provide information about the guardians. We should reach the imperial city by nightfall." Varus Hoisted the argonian over his shoulder. "Let us be going."

OOC: short post, but I suggest a time skip a few hours ahead when the argonain awakens. Agreed?

ooc- Time skip sounds good to me.

ic-

Ceglai nodded mutely to the Breton woman's instructions and started trying to get what remained of the corpse into the fire. The result was somewhat comical to behold, as the Bosmer was a great deal smaller than the bandit, and was by no means solidly built. He eventually managed to get the body close with a combination of rolling it and tugging it head-over-heels. This left a trail of blood on the ground, but there was enough of that already that it didn't matter much.

It didn't escape him how odd it was, to so listlessly follow the orders of someone he'd been growling at less than ten minutes before. Then again, he tended to naturally look to more experienced allies for leadership, so perhaps it wasn't so odd at all. Both Varus and the Breton woman showed a competence and cool-headedness that pegged them as people Ceglai could follow. The Breton woman was obviously group-minded, and had a strong instinct to diffuse a situation before it exploded. Varus, on the other handed, exuded the strength and cool charisma of a natural leader. Both, Ceglai felt, were therefore trustworthy... as much as he trusted anyone, anyway.

He wasn't so certain about the other human..."Sir" Guillaume De Bergerac. A very Breton name for a very Breton Breton. The Bosmer tried to bite back his bitterness as best he could... which wasn't saying much. What was the "sir" about...? Was he some sort of knight? Would he try to slay Ceglai for crimes agains humanity or some such holier-than-thou prattle?

He shoved the body the last foot into the fire and jumped back to escape a burst of embers. He flicked a dusting of ashes off his leathers as he moved to linger near Varus, ready to leave whenever it was required.

Ceglai, for all his faults, stuck with his team. Even if two of them were Men.

[fine with me too ? and one comment : If I'm not mistaken we're at the western end of the Imperial City's bridge. I don't think whoever is at the other end would be pleased to see us ? ro that the caravan would let us pass if they're still there]

Elissandre was relieved when Ceglai managed to get rid of the corpse. The caravan was too far and the locals too busy running from them and the burning tavern to tell for sure what he had done, this particular deed shouldn't come back to haunt them. But the breton noble had, and she wondered how he would react once the situation settled down. It feels like he's buying the shining knight on his white horse stories. Odds are he don't like the idea of cutting corpses apart. Let's just hope he won't get us in troubles, he seems rather green. I wonder how his birth compares to mine. Not that it matters much, I don't think either of us can effectively claim more than what we're carrying with us. But it would be sort of funny if I outranked him, and maybe way to keep him from doing something stupid.

Varus's suggestion didn't strike her as especially good "With the spectacle we've offered, I'm not sure they'll let us past the bridge. And seen from there, it looks like it won't be much better than out in the wild. But yes we'd better move now. I've seen a few good spots to keep out of sight on my way there."

She started walking, settling for a brisk pace that the other could match without tiring themselves. And wouldn't betray how the magic from her ring sustained her endurance. She silently blessed the distant ancestor who had enchanted it. The Iron Witch of Cadra. She was quite a lady in her days. I don't know what she would have done in my place, but would probably have fared better. Or got herself killed.

At that moment she realized everyone but her had introduced himself. "Oh and I almost forgot. To round out the introductions, I'm Elissandre. Wandering healer and alchemist.". Healers are a scarce commodity. I don't know these guys, but it never hurts to let them know I can patch them up. Or if worst comes to worst that I'm worth more from skill than looks.

OOC Time skip works for me

Guy set off after Elissandre. She at least seemed to know what she was doing and Guy felt much happier following her lead than that of either elf. Somehow he didn't feel comfortable around the pair in the way that he would around a round ear. These two had never submitted, never admitted defeat in the face of insurmountable odds, remaining defiant to this day, Guy felt as though the pair would, at the slightest excuse exact upon him revenge for the deeds of his ancestors. Ceglai would be the one to commit the deed.

"I bet the bloodthirsty midgit would love to get his hands on my heart"

Guy thought, remembering with disgust how the elf delved into that bandit's chest as though it was the most normal thing in the world. Varus however... Guy didn't know what to make of the Dark Elf. He was obviously a real professional, experienced, jaded, competent and impossible for the young Breton to read. Guy wondered how much anger against man was left, bubbling beneath that passive exterior. The one thing that Guy was certain about was that he wouldn't want to cross the Dunmer.

OOC: Sorry, been out of town this weekend.

3:00, Varus, somwhere near the imperial city

IC: The group had been travelling for several hours, avoiding the caravan but staying relativly close to the road. The argonian rode on the back of the horse with Varus, still uncocious... for now.

Varus heard the argonian moan and stir a little. "He's waking up. Eveeryone stop and get weapons ready. we don't know what he will do." Varus said, keeping the controlled cold manner he usually keeps. Varus stopped the horse and dismounted. then he carefully pulled off the argonian and laid him on the floor, then disarmed him. Varus laid his hand calmly over his sword, ready if something were to go wrong.

The argonian's eyes slowly fluttered open, and he was suprised to see the group that was surrounding him. Bandits got me! he thought, jumping up and reaching for his shortsword. but the balde was gone!

"Let me go, bandits, or you'll regret it!" the argonian said, hands balled up tightly into fists.

Varus laughed at the argonian, "Your unarmed, and you expect to be a threat? You may be a guardian, but unarmed your no threat. and were not bandits." Varus said, and looked around to see how his comrades would react to the argonian. Hopefully in a beneficial way Varus thought.