(2nd Day)

Outskirts of Vivec

The emissaries of the prophet had spent the night outside of the city and in the morning they had invited the Temple's diplomat to arrive. Outside the city a small tent city was created and guarded by members of various Ashlander tribes composed of four medium sized square tents and one large central hexagonal one for the prophet Kadesha. Gilvas Barelo was brought into the central tent. There before him on velvet red pillows sat Kadesha, covered in a black robe with a red veil covering her face. Nothing could be seen of her, except her scarlet almond eyes. "Behold, the child of Veloth, on her is the book of our Ancestors." The guard spoke sitting in the corner with the falx blade over his lap. Kadesha however remained motionless as if a statue.

OOC: Ah man i'm really at a loss of what to post. It's like it hasn't rained in my field for a while.

Vivec, Ashlander camp

Barelo

The journey from Holamayan had been a rather exhausting one, especially since he had to make it so quickly; however, Gilvas wasn't about to miss an opportunity like this. For once, the Temple authorities - or the Archcanon himself, to be more precise - had recognized him as the best mer for a delicate matter like this. Perhaps this was just an act triggered by desperation, however it might've signaled something different. A change in the way Temple handled groups outside its religious influence, perhaps? This would herald change, indeed, for behaviour like this was precisely what he himself expected of this new Temple Barelo hoped to one day help create. Maybe it was a bit too much to hope Saryoni had so suddenly realized the necessity for change, but this could still be interpreted as a step forward.

There was little time for such considerations, however, as almost immediately upon arriving at the High Fane of Vivec, the ex-Dissident Priest had to hurry to meet this Ashlander prophetess, the alleged descendant of Veloth. Perhaps news from the tribes did not reach the urban centres of Vvardenfell, but that was one advantage (of sorts) Barelo had over the rest of the Temple. Holamayan was far removed from any House civilization; the Ashlands, on the other hand, were quite easy to reach, and if one was determined enough, news could be obtained from the Ashlanders over periods of time. He had been working on establishing better relationships with the nomads since before the Nerevarine's arrival, with very limited results. The arrival of this legendary figure and the role the Dissident Priests played in helping the prophecies be fullfilled helped his efforts, however now the situation was quite complicated; again being part of the Temple, Gilvas had to act carefully not to upset his superiors or the Ashlanders, lest his work go to waste.

Despite this precarious situation, he had heard more than most - if not all - Temple priests of this Kadesha and the Ashlanders uniting. The details were never made quite clear to him, but he could easily make the presumption there was indeed something quite special about the prophetess if she managed to unite the tribes and become the first womer ashkhan (that he had heard of, anyway). His reception at the camp further reinforced Gilvas' suspicions that they placed quite a lot of trust behind Kadesha's claims about her lineage. The Ashlanders were naturally quite prone to mysticism and the prophetess' tent was no exception, this whole scene in which he was to play a part reeking of ritual.

When the guard presented the prophetess, Gilvas bowed his head, but only slightly; he was, after all, still a Temple priest, even if a technically low-ranking one. Furthermore, he wasn't exactly sure what to think of Kadesha, for even though he practised Ancestor worship himself, Barelo had little idea as to what she represented in the Ashlander religion and if the role she assumed would be compatible with his own beliefs.

"I am honoured to have a chance to meet with the prophetess, the ashkhan of all four tribes." His hands tucked in the wide sleeves of the simple brown robe most lower ranking priests wore, Barelo was in no hurry to sit down. The Ashlanders had many traditions and the last thing he wanted to do was insult Kadesha while acting as the representative of the Temple, particularly by doing something as simple as sitting down uninvited.

OOC:

This is for Ambrose to reply to, NOT Solidor or Darkom. Don't have a lot of time to make this post right now. It's a [censored] post but at least it can get us moving and it can get Ambrose into the RP.

Sathryon, Caldera City, Late Night of Day 2

It had been a two and a half hour journey from Ald'ruhn that night on horseback, as the dry late night breeze seized its way into Caldera. The Dunmer walked the street in solitude, still looking poor as ever from the previous operation. He looked drunk, homeless. A thirst lay beneath his tired eyes, one for destruction and the demise of his enemies. The bright moon rose over him as he smirked into its light, dust passing by him in the street. He had made it into the city so easily with no weaponry, but had cleaned himself up to a degree where he wouldn't be seen as a slave, adding a red turban to his head to protect him from the dusty winds of the ashlands. Just as he had made his way into the city, he made his way into a bar. Heading towards the patron, he pulled his bag from his side, taking out a few drakes.

"Beer."

And beer he was given, swallowing it down in under a minute. He ordered another and another, repeating the process until he was drunk. While his breath smelled bad and his eyes were glazed, he made sure he didn't drink too much to lose all control of his thought, for there was a purpose in all this.

He made his way to the nearest legion soldier out in the streets after finding his way from the door of the tavern. Walking up to him slowly, he ran into him, breathing on him purposely. Hopefully, the soldier would see he was drunk and take him to the jail for a time to let him sober up.

There was a heavy sweet scent throughout the tent and an over all radiant warmth that made it very easy to slip away into sleep. A few low placed fires caused shadows to skirmish on the fabric of the tent which made up the 'walls.' As the two stood still it seemed as if these very shadows expressed the other's curiosity and thoughts. The two were left alone as the guard left and as Kadesha spoke her voice was soft but strong due to the archaic manner in which she spoke. Aside from those who were familiar with the older dialect as some Temple members may be or as they still spoke in the south, one might have trouble with a few of the words and they way they were accented. It truly was a poet's language. "I was born here on Vvardenfell of the Urshilaku Clan. My father was a herder and warrior and my mother whom I never knew having died having me, was a healer. When I was 14 I was married to a high standing member of the Zainab in order to care for me as my father fell ill. Serjo loved me and treated me well. After my father also died I was grieved beyond reconcile until one night, the Lord Boethia took me to his realm and wrote on me the words of Veloth."

She paused for a moment perhaps realizing how blunt she had been. Even though behind her veil she gave an aura of almost godliness, speaking she seemed very much so still a young woman and girlishly sounding. She did not even name her husband, but simply refer to him as Serjo, as if his mere presence would prompt her to embrace his side and hide her face against his flank affectionately.

"Although the experience was terrifying, it gave me a new sense of purpose. Lord Boethia taught me many things, to say, to do. I was to bring about the Old Ways once more in Vvardenfell and the rest of Morrowind to all Dunmer people.When I explained to my husband, Serjo was not sure if he believed me until I showed him the writings. When I tried explaining to the others, none of it would hear. Growing jealous, Serjo's rivals within Zainab had him killed, and I had to flee back to the Urshilaku. But Boethia spoke with me again reminding me of what it is to have a long arm and a swift blade. And I slew those who unjustly murdered Serjo with the warriors of my Clan. Then the unbelievers believed showing their wise mothers the writings of Veloth which I am dressed in. The Ahemmusa came with their Ashkhan and offered loyalty right away. The Erabenimsun resisted at first but joined out of admiration. I now guide the four Ashland tribes."

Although just in her mid 20s, Kadesha was not de-facto leader of all four Tribes. Although individual raids against the Houses had been sustained, the organized attacks had long ceased as if for some sort of build of of concentrated effort. They had begun to an extent their own mining operations but without as much intent and focus on selling, but rather producing quality arms and armors. Although the four tribes were integrated to a larger degree, a level of autonomy was allowed as to not infringe upon the traditional uniqueness of each of the tribes.

"So now I see that the grasp of the Empire is failing. The Lord of Destruction has set to vanquish us and ensnares us to spite Lord Boethiah. It is now time for Vvardenfell to be united and soon the whole of Morrowind. Unfortunately the heresy of the temple persists. The parasitic nature of the Temple is an injustice upon Veloths people, as is the greed of the Hlaalu, the hatred of the Redoran and the arrogance of the Telvanni. It is not us who will raise the sword first. We must remember that when you came here, we were already of this land. I want to know where you stand."

Vivec, Ashlander camp

Barelo

"Not one of us, prophetess, was here before the other, for we are all children of Veloth and twice walked the same path; once under the Prophet and again under Indoril Nerevar. I say this not to disrespect the Ashlanders, but merely to remind that we are not, perhaps, as different as we would sometimes believe ourselves to be." Gilvas began, rather cautious. Ashlanders were easy to insult and hard to appease when angered; Kadesha would probably prove to be the same, even if her age made it a bit awkward for the priest to deal with her. She was younger than he expected, perhaps too young by normal standards to lead even a single tribe, let alone all four.

For a short moment, Barelo was silent, mulling over his response. Once more he was walking that delicate line between staying in the Temple and being branded heretic again, an experience all too familiar to him. That he frequently found himself in situations like this meant he respected the Archcanon (despite his disagreements with most of the Temple hierarchy, which the Patriarch represented), for it was easy to predict how much of his time did Saryoni spend balancing over innumerable chasms, with only a tiny chance of crossing all of them.

"The Temple might not be as parasitic as Ashlanders frequently protray it." Gilvas finally began, well aware of the repercussions his words might have. He was, after all, about to defend one of the chief enemies of the Ashlanders and how Kadesha would react depended entirely on her nature. "It unites many of the settled Dunmer where the Houses would drive them apart, and not only in the doctrine it spreads, which I know you consider heretical - for the Tribunal was not without faults - but also in the lessons it teaches. Humility, kindness to your fellow mer, that is what the Temple should and did teach, in the long years before the Sharmat's rise. The crimes done by the Ordinators during Resdayn's darkest hours are undeniable, but so is the fact those same Ordinators, when directed towards a just goal, held on their shoulders the weight of Dagoth Ur's power and did not let him escape Red Mountain for many years before the Nerevarine."

"The Temple might lack direction at this moment, but the Three are dead or gone. The old doctrines will not stand for much longer without their axis and when they need to be replaced, the path to walk will become apparent - the path of our ancestors. And new Morrowind will need a new Temple, so as not to lose its way."

Perhaps Barelo was being a bit too optimistic with these words; the path to rebuilding the Temple as he envisioned it was long, winding and rocky at best. But change was hard just as change was necessary, for if the Temple simply froze in place at this difficult time, it would tear itself apart and further fracture Morrowind, for it was hard to overestimate the influence the Temple had over the Dunmer society, even now, with its Living Gods gone.

OOC: This character is just your standard guard so I can respond to Wooly's post and will most likely not be making a return.

Julius, Caldera

On days like this, it simply did not pay to be a soldier. He had been standing in the same damn spot for nearly ten hours now, and he was getting tired. He knew that Buckmoth was short of men, but this was simply ridiculous. Couldn't they spare a few men for extra shifts here in Caldera? Was guard duty not important enough? Come to think of it, why was the Legion involved in this at all? Didn't Caldera have a militia or something to take care of things like this? And on another note, when was the last time he had even seen the guy that was supposed to replace him for the night? If he didn't know better, Julius would say the man never even deigned to leave the building he was in. Didn't he have a functioning pair of legs? Could he not walk out here sooner? One thing was for sure, Julius didn't plan on standing out here all day. He had to sleep too, for Gods' sake! What, was he supposed to never eat, sleep, or drink? He was a person too! He had needs! Julius felt like crying. It just wasn't fair.

Then, something caught his eye. A Dunmer was walking towards him, seeming none too steady on his feet. No. No. Nonono. I don't get paid enough for this shi-

His thoughts were cut off when the Dunmer promptly ran into him and just stood there, breathing on his face. Julius winced in annoyance, giving a quick prayer to the Gods that the person would just leave. He'd rather stand here than deal with a drunk. Julius stood there for a full minute, the Dunmer staring blankly at him. When it became apparent that the mer wasn't going to go away, Julius sighed in volatile mix of frustration, annoyance, and anger. Grabbing the red-eyed mer by the arm, he started dragging him towards the largest building in Caldera, the Governor's Hall. There was a small prison there, just to deal with unruly workers and such. It was less work than taking prisoners to Fort Buckmoth, or outright killing them, that was for sure.

There were only two cells to the prison if he remembered correctly, but there wasn't much crime in Caldera, it being an Imperial town, after all. They were far too orderly for things like petty theft. Or maybe Hlaalu just bribed anyone that had crime on their mind. Julius didn't know or care.

Julius made his way there quickly and handed the mer off to another guard that would throw him in jail. He really didn't get paid enough to deal with the paperwork that came with dealing with prisoners, after all. He moved back to his post on the streets of Caldera as quickly as his legs would carry him. A small portion of his mind wondered why he didn't just go to sleep already. It's not like anyone would care. Caldera was, as previously mentioned, a fairly peaceful town. But he hadn't been relieved yet, and his soldier's instincts were screaming at him for even thinking of slacking off. Who knows. Maybe if he obeyed his orders and stood here long enough, someone would notice how strong his sense of duty was and ship him off somewhere interesting. Like Ebonheart. He'd bet they didn't stand around all day doing nothing there.

Vivec, Hlaalu Canton

Andel walked down the ramp of the Hlaalu Canton, followed by Forvse. The ramp was dry and not slippery, although Andel was careful when walking. If it was raining, there would be no telling how safe it would be, at least for a visitor to the city like himself. At the bottom, he took a second to look where he was with respect to the Canton; after a few moments, he headed south towards where the Gondolier was.

Neither the Royal Guard nor the servant of Crassius spoke; Andel was used to such silence, and quite comfortable with it. In his mind, for a guardsman, meaningless small talk detracted from duty. For other Hlaalu, it could perhaps make fulfilling their duty easier, perhaps, but that wasn't for him. He preferred the simple, straightforward duties that being a guard entailed. For this mission, he would have to do more than that. Most likely Sadie would be the one to negotiate the terms with the Telvanni, and Andel would be there to ensure that the outcome is favorable for House Hlaalu.

Still, he had to be careful. He didn't fully trust Sadie, as she seemed willing to go behind Duke Dren's back. He would have to watch his back throughout this entire mission, and be prepared for the worst. He wouldn't report her, as little would be gained from it. Her plan, provided she did not deceive him, was clever; not only would allying with Telvanni strengthen their position against Redoran, but with her spy already in place, Hlaalu could learn in advance if Telvanni decided to betray them and prepare accordingly. And if they caught the spy, they'd hopefully turn their suspicions towards the Camonna Tong rather than the more legitimate aspects of House Hlaalu.

He finally reached the gondolier. Forvse spoke. "Aren, we are ready to be taken to Councilor Omani's Manor."

"Yes muthsera, I was informed of your coming. If you would like to depart, I am ready."

Andel spoke. "We are ready. However might you stop at the Telvanni Canton? Councilor Curio wished for me to stop by, and I also wish to grab some supplies while I'm there."

"I suppose so, the Telvanni Canton lies along the way to the manor. Get in when you're ready"

Andel waited for Forvse to step into the gondola, then did the same. Once they were both in the gondolier stepped in and started to row. He hadn't been on a small boat for some time. Hopefully it wouldn't be too rough.

Bralas Rathyron, Ghostgate
---

Deep in one of the low banks of Red Mountain, a small carriage drawn by one horse wheeled over the beaten path. The only thing to be seen in any directions was dark stone shrouded by settled scarlet dusts. As the carriage rolled around a soft ridge of the mountain it began to slow to a stop. "I think we are here, sera." Said the Ordinator escort as he peeked out of the white sheet that covered the open walls of the carriage. His voice was high, especially for a dunmer, and his skin was almost pale enough to be mistaken for a human. Bralas continued to stare at the wall through the eyes of his Indoril mask and made no movement or response. So far his time here on Vvardenfell had been not exactly been a vacation, more of a waste of time as he judged it.

"Sera?" The ordinator piped up again, breaking Bralas' concentration. The escort stared blankly at Bralas, who nodded lightly and steeped through the sheet and onto the hard rock of the mountain pass. As the carriage pulled away, he saw the Ghostgate stronghold for the first time. It wasn't much to look at, and it certainly wasn't as big as he had imagined. With the look of it's rough and haggard walls, one could hardly tell that it had once been merely a gate. Bralas began to make the trek up the slight incline to the front of the fort. A dunmer sat between him and main doors inside on the grey stone steps. His once-beautiful handcrafted glass armor was no in shambles. The bodysuit was torn in too many places to count, the glass was cracked and broken out of some it's places, and one of his boots had been reduced to nothing but a shoe with a few shards of dirty green glass sitting in their sockets.

As Bralas neared him, he could smell cheap liquor and bodily stench in the most putrid form he could imagine. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "Do you know where I can find a mer by the name of Uvoo Llaren?"

The elf's greasy red hair shook as he looked up to face Bralas, and he spat something black out of his mouth. "She'll be inside. Shouldn't be too hard to find." And with his few words, went back to staring off into the distance.

The mer's rudeness enraged Bralas, but he remembered he was now in the common lands of his province. This was Vvardenfell, not the mainlands. As Bralas pushed through the heavy wooden door, a stench not unlike that of the dunmer outside overtook him. There were Armigers everywhere, and they were just as dirty and badly equipped as he was. Bralas had seen Armigers in his time, but they had always been clean, equipped with fine weapons and armor, and well-mannered. He continued to weave through the masses of soldiers, asking where he could find the lady he was looking for. After being completely ignored at least ten times, an older looking mer gave him a silent point. He followed the direction that he had been given to find a door with a nameplate on it.

UVOO LLAREN, TEMPLE MASTER

Bralas pushed through the door eagerly to find himself in a cramped cubicle of a room. He had enough space to stand, and in front of him a dunmer woman sat behind a table.

"It's good to finally meet you, miss Uvoo Llaren. My name is Bralas Rathyron, I am an ambassador from the Great House Indroil. I have been instructed to seek you out, as my kinsmen on the mainland believe you may be of use to us. You see, Indoril wishes to take some land for it's own on Vvardenfell, gods know why. But we have reason to believe that Redoran and Hlaalu may be in conflict, and possibly on the brink of war. And what with the ring of fire, we feel that now, among all this carnage, is the perfect time to strike."

"Now," Bralas said, as he placed his hands on the edge of Uvoo's desk and leaned forward. "I'm going to need to know who my friends are on this island, and maybe more importantly, my enemies. I've been told that you will be on board without question, so I trust that you will be able to help Indoril in it's endeavors to retake what it deserves on Vvardenfell. So where are we to begin?"

Ghostgate Fane

Llaren

"Greetings, Serjo Rathyron." Uvoo looked up from the book she had been reading before this Dunmer rather abruptly appeared. A brief smile passed over her face, seeming perhaps a bit faked; however, many emotions she displayed had appeared thus for a long time now. It had little to do with the Temple mistress as a person and everything to do with her assignment - being the keeper of the Ghostgate Fane was perhaps the toughest assignment one could get and a certain world-weariness could easily be spotted by whoever observed her for even a bit, being evident in the way she moved and in her facial expressions, contrasting a bit with her overall appearance since Uvoo was still quite young.

Uvoo stopped for a moment to inspect her unexpected guest. The Dunmer before her looked old and was even older, however he still seemed to have some strength in him, what with travelling in a suit of Indoril armour (from what she could tell from beneath the robe). One had to wonder if he hadn't been chosen as the ambassador merely because he seemed like the perfect image of House Indoril - ancient and yet still clinging to their duties. 'Clinging' was the word she thought most accurate right now, since even Uvoo, a supporter of the House, could see that the Indoril were failing; one sign of this was that many of them, living in the middle of their holdings, refused to acknowledge what could be clearly seen even from the Ghostgate - they needed the Temple as much as, if not more than, it needed Indoril (whether it needed Indoril at all was arguable, but Llaren wholeheartedly believed that it did).

"I believe, ambassador, that I might have an idea why the Indoril Council desires influence on Vvardenfell; it is, quite simply, the single most important region in Morrowind right now, whether the Mainland likes it or not. Whoever comes out on top in Vvardenfell will have an undisputable edge. But I'm sure you do not need me to tell you that, and I appologise. Years of living in relative solitude makes one forget in what a hurry Tamriel is."

"The situation in Vvardenfell is quite complicated right now, wherever one looks." She shut the book and placed her hands upon it. "Even more so in the Temple. It's difficult to definitely say who is friend and foe. I would like to tell you that the Ordinators, with their strong ties to House Indoril, would help you; however, that would be lying, since their allegiance is to themselves first and foremost, the cause of much headaches for Galdal Omayn, the Armiger commander, since it sets a precedent that some expect Vehk's order to follow. Most likely you have already been to Vivec, however, and know the situation within the Orders better. I would, however, recommend to meet Elam Andas if you haven't already; though I've never met him in person, I'm sure you are aware his family is a respected and powerful one in House Indoril."

"I do not mean to offend, Serjo Rathyron, but since you are from the mainland I would caution you about something basic - Vvardenfell works in very different ways, as you already might've found out to some extent. Do not take respect for House Indoril as something given; the only thing given is that each House here considers itself to be its own master and that so close to the holy city of one of the Tribunes and the past - and in some places, current - battlegrounds against House Dagoth, not many in the Temple will take kindly to your task here."

"Indoril's enemies are, sadly, more numerous than its friends. Gilvas Barelo's opposition to our proposed reform to the Temple is quite natural. I would avoid approaching Tuls Valen; we met not too long ago and he seemed very hostile to the idea of venerating Saint Nerevar as he deserves and expressed the belief that Endryn Llethan, the master of Vivec's High Fane, was of similar oppinion. Not much faith is to be placed in Balmora's Temple too, since I'm quite certain the mistress there, Fedrelo Sadri, has some ties with House Hlaalu - it is difficult to evade their corrupting presence so close to their capital on Vvardenfell. I cannot vouch for any other Temple keepers, since being so far removed from urban Vvardenfell I do not have the luxury of receiving news on anything resembling a regular basis."

Uvoo stopped for a moment, leaning forward a bit and listening carefully. It might've seemed abrupt to Bralas, but she didn't explain anything, instead leaning back again and resuming talking as if nothing had happened, apparently satisfied with what she heard - or, rather didn't hear.

"During your stay here, ambassador, I could recommend seeking out Galdal Omayn, the commander of the Buoyant Armigers and, perhaps more importantly, also her second in command, Ralyn Othravel. Galdal will most likely prove uncooperative, I believe I already mentioned she's worried about the situation within the Orders and what ripples it might cause within her ranks, but you might glean something about the Armigers, while Ralyn might be more willing to help our noble cause, or at least I understood so from our conversations. It is hard to overestimate the strength of the Armigers as a military order, so any progress that might be made to at least convince them to recognize House Indoril as an integral part of the Temple would I'm sure be of use to the Indoril Council."

Bralas Rathyron, Ghostgate
---

Bralas run his thumb and forefinger down the edges of his mask that covered his jawline in casual thought. He did this all the time whenever working through a thought process. Uvoo seemed to know what she was talking about, and Bralas it almost seemed to Bralas that she had somehow expected his arrival, and somehow known of the plans. Still, he trusted her word, as his kinsmen had instructed him, he knew they would not lie to him about someone he could trust, especially with such important matters at stake. He cracked a slight smile, hidden behind the grimace of his Indoril helmet. "You seem a perceptive one. My kinsmen were right to direct me to you. As you have guessed, I have spent time in Vivec. I would have assumed that the Ordinators would be completely behind the cause, but this is not the case. I had a run-in with that despicable n'wah of a head Ordinator. I don't trust him, and therefor I cannot trust the Ordinators. I will seek out Omayn, as the help of the Armigers may prove rather useful, especially as complications have arisen with transport of men from the mainlands to Vvardenfell." He was referring to the obvious ring of fire that surrounded the island.

"But of course, the headmaster, and likely the Ordinators with him could pose a massive obstacle. There is no longer any consideration for their house or for their temple within them. As much as I hate to say such things, they may have to be dealt with if they decide to stand in Indoril's way. Of course we do not wish to battle men of our own colors, but certain sacrifices must be made if we wish to achieve our goal. I do hope you understand." Bralas hated the fact that the men who were best known for the face of Indoril no longer cared for it, but the truth was the truth, and there was no way to avoid it.

Clearing his throat again, he posed a final question to Llaren. "So, whereabouts can I find Omayn? I will require his counsel."

"I do not think you understand Serjo. The things I tell you, they have been Written. I, like you, have no choice on the matter. My Lord has given me this task to complete." Kadesha's hand lifted up to her veil removing it showing her face. Afterward she kept her hand lifted up, the arm bent at the elbow so that the sleeve revealed her palm and forearm. Across her skin, small Daedric letters began to appear and glow red. Across her forehead and cheeks was written 'The face of truth shall be seen by those of Veloth' and on her palm and forearm 'by the grace of this wrist those who made themselves enemies of my followers, shall be enemies of me.'

Her face was pleasant, soft and youthful, girlish yet determined. "I would much rather prefer spending my years in the graze lands with the wind in my hair and the grass under my feet but these things were given to me by Lord Boethiah. You say that the Tribunal Temple will change its ways, but when? And even more pressing, by who's design?" The glow of the Daedric letters faded away but her face remained uncovered. Her expressive youthful eyes were not those of someone threatening but rather pleading with the old Dunmer. "Please convince the leaders of the Temple to become partners. If you do not believe me, I give you the choice." With her undressed hand she gripped a sword sitting on the pillow just behind her. With a lifting motion she threw it toward Barelo catching the ground in front of him. The sword itself was straight with a slightly curved handle of elegant design. "Pick it up and slay me if you figure me to be a false prophet. No one will do you harm, they've been instructed on leaving you be. But if you believe me you must be my guide into the Temple."

Rayden

Eight Plates, Balmora

Light from a nearby candle flickered across his cloaked face, he eyed the patrons at the bar carefully looking for his prey, or should I say his hunter. He had been followed to Balmora by what would seem to a commoner as a merchant, however Rayden had once been a member of the Morag Tong, and therefore knew their methods. Now it was just a waiting game, soon the merchant would walk into the pub, and then Rayden would make his move. Rayden now looked at the bar maids eying them carefully to make sure he picked the right one. He motioned to a young one to come over to his table, she had worn out shoes and seemed not very well kept.

"Is there something I may get for you serjo?" spoke the young girl.

"Yes, there is something I require of you." said Rayden with his gravelly voice. "However you are not to speak of this to anyone." and with that Rayden pulled a small bag from his belt, the sound of coins jingling inside. "You will be rewarded quite handsomely" he said as he dropped the bag on the table. "Inside is 500 drakes."

The young girl eyed the bag as a look of awe crossed her face. "Anything Serjo, just ask."

"Ah thats a good girl, now you see this?" Rayden pulled a smalled wrapped package from a pocket on his belt. He unwrapped it to reveal a small glass tube filled with a yellowish powder. "There will be a merchant that will walk in soon, he will be slightly shorter than I. His face will be covered and he will have a small steel dagger on his belt. You are to serve him, when he asks for a drink pour the contents of this vial into it and stir it around. He will pass out after taking drinking even a sip of the liquid, when he is unconscious you will put him in one of the rooms downstairs and give me the key. If everything goes successfully there is 300 more drakes waiting for you, is this understood?"

"Yes Serjo, I will make sure everything goes the way you want it."

"Now go, wait for him."

And with that the young Dunmer girl hurried away back behind the bar. Several minutes passed before the so called merchant walked into the room, just as Rayden had anticipated he sat down at the bar. The young Dunmer girl hurried over to him, then walked over to the keg. As she poured the beer she mixed in the small vial of powder that Rayden had given her. When she returned to the merchant she handed him the glass and then walked over to another patron. The merchant looked around, trying to identify Rayden, he looked back down at the mug sitting in front of him. He took a long sip of the beer, about 15 seconds went by and then the compound began to take effect. He stood from his stool and began to stumble around, then as he reached for a table his legs gave out and he collapsed on the floor. The young girl ran around the counter with a few of the other bar maids. Rayden could then hear her suggesting that they put him in one of the rooms downstairs until he recovers. The bar maids grabbed him by the hands and began dragging him down the short ramp the downstairs rooms.

The merchant opened his eyes, his head throbbing with pain. He tried to move but found that his arms and legs were tied to the posts of the bed that he was laying on. He franticly tried ripping his arms loose but found that the bonds would not loosen.

"The more you struggle the tighter the ropes will get."

The merchant quickly looked to the dark corner of the room where the voice had come from. Through the dim light he could make out the rough outline of a figure.

"Who are you?" grunted the merchant.

Rayden replied with a snide remark "Ahh but you already know who I am." Rayden stood from his seat and lit the candles in the room. The merchants unmasked face showed fear for a split second before it adopted a stronger more composed look.

"What do you want from me?"

"The same thing you wanted from me my friend." replied Rayden with a chuckle. "Your life."

"Ha you can take it, tomorrow another one of my brothers will find you and finish the job."

"You sound just like the last one that came after me, so confident that another will succeed where you failed, did you know I kill one of your 'brothers' about every 3 or 4 weeks? I lead them on a little chase to make it seem as though I havent spotted them, and then one day they find themselves quite.....well dead to put it bluntly."

The merchant just stared blankly at Rayden with hatred and fear in his eyes.

"Well, seems like your not going to have a nice conversation so might as well finish this up."

Rayden pointed his open palm at the assassin and then a small flash of green light flew from his palm and struck the bound assassin in the chest. "Just a little courtesy so that we don't disturb the patrons." The assassin tried to speak but found that he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried not even a whisper could escape his lips.

"Hmm, what to use this time. Last one I poisoned, no blood at all, was kind of disappointed. Disembowelment sound good to you?" Rayden looked down at him "Not even a shake of the head? How disrespectful!"

Rayden pulled a dagger from his boot and plunged it into the assassin right below the sternum, and with one quick motion ripped it down to his waist. Blood poured from the gash like a river that had broken a dam. Rayden then took the dagger and slit the assassin's throat, blood trickling down his neck and onto the now crimson linens that covered the bed. Rayden wiped the blood off of his dagger and replaced it in the sheath that was strapped to his boot. He opened the door and walked up the short ramp into the main room of the inn. He looked for the young girl that had helped him, when he had finally approached her he handed her two more small bags.

"300 drakes as I promised, and 100 for the room."

"Thank you so much Serjo, I am forever grateful. But may I ask why you wanted me to do those things to that man?"

"Oh, you will find out soon enough my dear." replied Rayden.

He began to walk out of the inn, as soon as he opened the door he heard a loud shriek. He smiled and laughed, as thought to himself 'what a message it will send to the Tong when they find that the assassin that was trailing me was killed but a short walk from their guild hall.' It was dark outside now, he would have no trouble navigating his way past the guards and to the mages guild to be teleported out of Balmora.

He walked down the stairs past a talking mages, after walking through a small commons area he came to the short large stone platform that served as the travel services for the mages guild. He looked at the female Breton that was sitting in a chair reading a book on alchemical ingredients and their unique properties.

"Um I presume you are the one to speak to for travel services?"

"Yes, that would be me. Where would you like to go?" said the Breton as she stood from her chair placing a small piece of parchment in the book.

"Hmm, Ald-Ruhn sounds nice, can you take me there?"

The mage gave Rayden a peculiar stare and then replied "Yes, I can transport you to the guild hall there, it will be 25 septims."

Rayden counted out 25 coins from his pouch and handed them to the mage. She motioned him the the short stone platform. Rayden stood on the platform as a flash of light flew from the mages hands.

OOC: decided to make another char since things with Aryon have slowed down, i didnt list a faction but that will come into play soon.

Vivec, Telvanni Canton, Lizard's Head Pub

She stepped into the pub; light temporarily flooding into the room from the hallway. That subsided as the door closed, and the pipesmoke floated into the air, glowing from the blue lanterns. The patrons mulled about; it was slow at that time, after breakfast and before lunch. Fried Kwama egg spat on the range, releasing its pungent aroma to contest with the smoke.

Vedaelra scanned the room, it took a few moments before she saw what she wanted. At a table in the far corner, an old dunmer male sat, with a distinctive jade amulet. It was a green spider, wrapping itself around the necklace.

She pulled up a chair, and motioned for her fellow to do the same. "Have you progress for us?"

The old man gave a start, at Saryen. "You there, state your buisiness!"

OOC: Posting while distracted by hilarious Skyrim cover rage is hard.

Ghostgate Fane

Llaren

Uvoo smiled sadly when Bralas started speaking of the Ordinators. "I fear, serjo, that dealing with the Ordinators through military power might prove detrimental to both the continued prosperity of the Temple and House Indoril's cause. Of course, I couldn't possibly know the strength of the House better than you, ambassador, nor claim great knowledge in the area of warfare, but what I do possess are fresh memories of the soldiers from the Order of War that were stationed in the Ghostgate not too long ago. They weren't mer who would give up easily once they had their mind set to a task, nor would they often stop to consider their own safety. Many became embittered during the war with the Devil; that might be why so many have lost their way. But not all."

"But I will not keep you longer, ambassador; this is not a pressing matter, yet, and House Indoril would be better served if you could inspect the situation with the Armiger command yourself as soon as possible. You will find Galdal Omayn in her office in the Tower of Dusk. If I may, I would recommend you do not speak with her in the Ghostgate, but instead do so journeying to the Shrine of Pride; I'm sure she would agree to escort you, so long as you make it clear this concerns important matters. As I said, the situation with the Armigers is a complex one and some might be willing to pass on what they hear to those not exactly supportive of our cause. Regretfully, even this piece of the frontier is not immune to treachery."


Vivec, Ashlander camp

Barelo

Barelo was a bit taken aback by this sudden turn of events. Had the Archcanon sent anyone else, this would not have ended well for the prophetess; presenting a sword with which to slay her showed that either she overestimated her evidence, or truly had very little idea how predisposed against the Ashlanders most of the Temple priests actually were. Or perhaps this is some sort of a clever gamble? Does she consider herself to be so good a judge of character that she is certain I will not lift this sword against her?

The aged Dunmer grasped the handle of the sword presented to him. It felt unusual and uncomfortable for him, actually sending a shiver down his back. Gilvas was far from a mer of war; he was a priest, and had been all his life and war in its physical shape was a whole different world from his. True, he had long carried the burden of warring against the teachings of the Tribunal during his time as a Dissident Priest, but it was, obviously, not a conflict fought with swords or spears. That did not make it any less difficult; at times, it seemed harder, for there were rarely tangible rewards in sight and never an enemy to face openly. And now, it seemed, Kadesha was asking him to cast aside the careful balance he had worked on maintaining for several years now and start all over again, for agreeing with this Ashlander prophetess would likely be enough for many to condemn him as a heretic again.

"Even if I did not believe you, I would not shed your blood." Barelo finally spoke after a silence that seemed to have lasted ages. His hand slipped off the handle of the blade, leaving it unmoved. "The custom of sacred hospitality is not yet dead amongst your settled kin. But if what you tell me is true, we are not enemies to one another."

"I am cautious of the Daedric Lords, for mortals can never understand the intricate webs they weave. But the Good Daedra have helped Veloth's people in the past and perhaps they shall help us again in the future, whatever the reason might be. As I once helped Nerevarine Moon-and-Star-Reborn where others of the Temple couldn't, so shall I attempt to aid you. Few of your people are well-versed in the ways of the House Dunmer and fewer yet - in the ways the Temple works. I will try and help however I can, in the hopes that, aiding you, I also aid the Temple in ridding itself of the tumour that now plagues it."

Vivec, Telvanni Canton, Lizard's Head Pub

"Look, buddy," Saryen growled as he took his seat next to his mistress, "The lady needed some dumb muscle. She couldn't get anything dumb, so they saddled her with me." His brow lowering, he leaned back and towards Vedaelra, whispering, "What's this guy's problem?"

"I don't trust nobody these days, keeps you alive." the contact said. He looked aged and worn, like a threadbare rag hanging on a line.

"Indeed..." replied Vedaelra, slightly annoyed. "He is with me, there's no need to worry."

"Alright then..." he said, dramatically lowering his voice. The pipe he was absently smoking lay unappreciated in his hand.

*TO BE EDITED*

Curio Manor, Hlaalu Canton Plaza, Vivec
Crassius Curio

Andel turned to leave, giving Crassius a final farewell as he left the room. Crassius found himself rather sad the elf had left; he barely knew the guard, yet it seemed to him like losing an old friend. 'Nonetheless, I have every confidence he will accomplish our mission; with Forvse by his side, he cannot fail.'

"Now then," the Imperial turned to the blue eyed Dunmer on the other side of the room, "Where were we, my dear Sadie?" Crassius crossed the room in a few strides, picking up a few more papers from the clutter on his desk as he did so. The Imperial was still barely covered enough to be considered clothed, but he sat on his bed in front of the elf woman without a care in the world; he was long past the age where he worried what woman thought of his manners.

"Ah, yes, we still have our own jobs to finish; a Hlaalu's work is never done, they say. Mostly because there is always more gold to be had, but that's rather besides the point." Crassius flashed another lopsided grin, unfolding one of the papers on his lap and reading a few lines before continuing. "Well, with the business of the Telvanni more or less in Andel and Forvse's hands, that leaves the matter of the Temple and the Imperial Legion. We can't accomplish our plans for Redoran without them; all it should take is a bit of diplomacy." Crassius winked at Sadie as he said this, going on before the elf could interrupt.

"The Telvanni should be occupied by our shared operation with the Camonna Tong; the Zainab have been a thorn in their side for quite some time, I'm sure they would be glad to see them dealt with. After that I expect they wouldn't disagree to following Odral against our common enemies," Crassius gave an over exaggerated wink, "And while they're busy up north Andel will be completing our arrangement with the Temple to the south. With the Temple, Legion, and the Duke behind us, we'll have nothing to fear from the Redoran save for a full invasion, and the Telvanni wouldn't dare turn against us by then."

"And the Legion, of course, should not be too difficult to persuade in the first place," Crassius continued, the words flowing from his smiling lips with an obvious zeal; this is what he loved most about his House. "We're the only House willing to deal with them, they'd be foolish to turn their backs on us now." Crassius thumbed through the other letter, the Dragon Seal of the Empire shining in crimson across the top. "I've already sent word to Balmora and Caldera as well; the western front shall be moving at the same time as Andel and Odral. So all that leaves is for the Tong to tell us when they are ready to move, and the actual negotiations. I think it would be best for the two of us to divide and conquer, my dear Sadie. I still have a few good contacts within the Legion, if you would like to pay our dear friends in the Temple a visit." Crassius let the question hang in the air, his dark eyes gleaming; all his plans were finally coming together. 'All that remains is to sit back and watch it all unfold...'

Curio Manor, Hlaalu Canton Plaza, Vivec
Forvse Nerethi

The Dunmer agent had been waiting outside Crassius room, and followed the guard without a word as he left Curio manor and into the streets of Vivec. Crassius had already told her beforehand that she was to accompany the elf; she probably knew more of their mission than he did. If he asked her, she would gladly tell him all of what Crassius had permitted her to. If he asked, that is.

The Dunmer- Andel, Forvse recalled- was quiet, even for a Royal Guard, silently stalking down the Hlaalu Canton, heading towards Crassius' personal gondolier. Aren Maren had been working the canaals and bay of Vivec most of his life, and had been hired by the Imperial councilor simply because he liked the elf's name. Aren and Forvse would usually engage in some pleasant chat when she went out on errands for Crassius, but today the gondolier was all business.

"Aren, we are ready to be taken to Councilor Omani's Manor." Forvse approached the wooden stairs leading down to Aren's small boat, standing beside the armored guard.

"Yes muthsera, I was informed of your coming. If you would like to depart, I am ready."

'Oh Crassius, you do think of everything...' Forvse smiled to herself as Andel spoke to the gondolier; she had been listening as Crassius told him to stop by the Telvanni Canton. Whoever the guard really was, he followed Crassius' instructions, and that was enough for Forvse. She would be spending the next few weeks with the elf, so she supposed she might as well get to like him.

She sighed as she stepped onto the gondola, hoping the small boat could carry the three of them and Andel's crimson armor. Aren pushed them away from his makeshift dock with the long pole all the city's gondolier's used. Forvse frowned when he didn't begin his usual whistling; the guard seemed to have an effect on all of them, his grave air settling them all to silence. She doubted she could handle working with a stranger on such an important project; business was business, of course, but- as Crassius was fond of saying- that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it.

"So," she began, turning her sharp eyes on the guard, trying to see his face beneath that crimson helmet, "What brings you here? To doing Councilor Curio's dirty work?" She smiled, hoping the small joke would put the guard at ease.

Vivec, Hlaalu Canton Canol

As the gondolier steered the small boat. Andel wasn't used to boating, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, it felt nice to get a ride instead of walking for once, especially in a city as confusing as Vivec. Mournhold had no such transportation within, if you wanted to go somewhere you had to walk.

After a short while, Forvse, the woman serving Crassius, spoke. ""What brings you here? To doing Councilor Curio's dirty work?"

Andel took a few moments to gather his thoughts for a suitable answer.

"With the ring of fire encircling Vvardenfell, shipping and communication from the island is cut off. As such, the Great Houses are likely to act differently. Helseth wants to make sure that once the ring disappears, Hlaalu is still his ally on the province. As such he wishes that even with the island cut off, Hlaalu not lose the benefits of their alliance. I'm sure he has plans in case he feels more drastic action is necessary, but I do not know what they are, nor am I a part of them in any way."

The Royal Guard relaxed a bit, it seems a bit of conversation was a nice distraction from the fact he was in possibly the most confusing city in Morrowind.

Rayden, Ald-Ruhn, Day 2


Rayden was quite accustomed to the nauseating effects of teleportation, he had used it many times while performing writs. The dim chamber Rayden found himself in was quite large compared to that of the guildhall in Balmora, mages were busy at work on the floor below him. He could see some of them fiddling with alchemical apparatuses and others performing enchanting rituals. He walked around the terrace that was above the floor where the mages were performing their tasks. After descending a small flight of stairs he found himself in the foyer of the guildhall, a few of the mages gave him peculiar looks as he walked towards the door. He could hear the dust storm outside tearing its way through the city, blasting anything and everything with granules of sand. He pulled his cloak over his head and wrapped the scarf-like mask that hung from his neck around his face. Rayden opened the door and stepped outside, he was buffeted with wind and sand. He began to walk up the street towards the large Redoran stairs that separated the terraces of the city. After climbing the first flight he turned to his left and walked towards the Ald-Skar inn. He opened the door to find the inn full of patrons, most likely merchants trapped in Ald-Ruhn by the storm. He walked up the stairs towards the bar sand falling from the creases in his clothes and armor on the the already sandy floor. He took a seat at the bar, the barmaid walked over to him.

"Is there anything you'd like? Rooms are 10 drakes a night and matze is half off tonight." said the barmaid as she wiped out of mug with a towel.

"No drinks, I am here to meet someone, perhaps you know where I can find him? His name is Rithe, hes a Dunmer slightly taller than I." replied Rayden, the mask still obscuring his face.

"Oh, yeah I know Rithe, strange one he is. Never here but always here if you get my meaning, never see him leave or come but somehow he does. Should be on the bottom floor last room on the right wall."

"Thank you." Aryon placed 3 drakes on the counter as he stood and began to walk down the stairs and to the bottom of the inn. Rithe was one of the only people Rayden trusted. He was his old mentor, the one who taught him almost everything he knew. When he wasn't being trained by his parents Rithe was there. Rithe had always been there, he was once a Morag Tong member also, however to the Tong he had just seemed to drop off the face of Nirn. He left without warning or reason, Rayden is the only one who even knows he's still alive.

The lower floor was dimly lit with a few torches, 3 walls of the room had doors that lead to the rooms that where rented out. Rayden made his way over to the right, walking past a few patrons who had seemed to have consumed a few too many jugs of matze. He ducked into a recess in the wall, looking around to make sure no one was watching. There was a small almost unnoticeable flash of green light from Rayden's Palm, and then he was gone. Checking to make sure that no one had noticed Rayden silently began to creep forward from the small domed recess and then began to walk to his right making sure his footsteps were silent. When he reached the last door on the right he placed his hand upon the door. He could feel the barriers drop when he pulled his hand away, then he walked straight through the door as a spirit would pass through a wall. On the other side was a dark room, only one lone candle cast it's light upon the tan walls. Sitting in the corner at a table was Rithe, he spoke to Rayden even though he could not see him.

"You can remove the spell, not even the most skilled guild mage can detect anything beyond that barrier."

Rayden then appeared before Rithe, he walked over and sat at the table with him.

"It has been a long time Rithe, I would have came earlier however I was being tailed by the Tong."

"Well it is good that you came at last. There are matters that we must discuss, matters of great importance." Rithe looked up and met eyes with Rayden.

"What might those be?"

"As you know Vvardenfell is being invaded by Daedra. No longer is the Isle safe, unless the Great Houses can either join together or eliminate one another than the Daedra will win this fight and all of Vvardenfell will fall into chaos. As it looks the war between the houses will be ignited once again, they are to caught up in bickering and plotting to destroy each other than protecting themselves. There is no doubt that Vvardenfell will fall eventually, be it by the hand of the Daedra or by the hand of a House. Therefore I have decided to leave Morrowind before the world comes crashing down upon me. The ring of fire prevents ships from travelling between Vvardenfell and the mainland, teleportation at that distance is also risky. Therefore I have spoken with Mephala and made a pact, she will transport us through her realm in return for me completing a task. All I need to know is if you are coming or staying."

"You ask alot my friend, to abandon my home in fear of death is not something I would do and not regret. The Tong will still chase me even if I were to flee, it is better to die and bring them down with me then flee like a coward and have then chase me across all of Tamriel." replied Rayden with arrogance and pride in his voice.

"You are foolish, you dive headlong into death without a second thought. Do you honestly think that staying here will grant you a chance at vengeance? You will die like the rest of Vvardenfell and the Tong will live on."

"I will die before I run Rithe, I am sorry but I am staying. If I live through it then I will find you, I swear it."

Rithe looked back down at the table and let out a long sigh. "Very well, if you wish to stay then stay, I leave tonight for Vivec."

The two embraced, knowing that this is possibly the last time that they will see each other. Then without another word Rayden left the room walking back up the stair and towards the counter approaching another of the bar maids.

"I would like to rent a room."

"How long do you want it?"

"Three days will be adequate."

"Alright, thats 25 drakes. Its down the stairs third door to your left on the back wall."

Rayden placed 25 drakes on the counter and then walked back down stairs to his room. He would spend a few days here and then move on to Maar Gan to meet another contact there, possibly get back in the business.


OOC: well i was going to post for Aryon also but the mother [censored] stupid ass forum text editor deleted about a 1500 word post i had for him and i dont have a back up, so im to [censored] pissed to write anymore now.

Aryon, Under Skar, Day 2

The wooden bridge creaked as Aryon made his way towards his Uncle's manor. He unlatched the heavy wooden door and pushed it open. Aryon walked down the decorated hall into the central chamber of the manor, at the far end he could see his Uncle conversing with a few other House nobles. One of the nobles notified Councillor Llethri of Aryon's arrival, Garisa turned around with a surprised look on his face as Aryon made his way to the group.

"Aryon, I thought you had left for Gnisis?"

"I did, but I have important information I must discuss with the Archmaster. I think I've uncovered a way to stop the invasion from Oblivion."

The look of surprise grew on Garisa's face.

"Well I would definitely say that is important, you must notify him at once."

"I have already sent a guard to arrange a meeting. I was also hoping Serjo Ratharys was still here, do you know if he has departed yet?"

"I'm afraid he has, he and House Brother Tevyn left right after you did."

"Hmm, I guess I will have to wait for his return."

Just then a young Dunmer girl walked up to the group. "Excuse me Serjo, there is a guard waiting at the door for you. He says the Archmaster is ready to hold council with you."

"Thank you Arisi, I will be back shortly Uncle." Aryon gave a short bow to the group and then hurriedly left the manor. There was a dull clanking sound as his decorative bonemold armor rubbed against it self as he walked down the wooden walkway towards the Arobar manor. He unlatched the door and walked into the extravagant hall, a guard was waiting for him at the end.

"This way Serjo." the guard said as he motioned for Aryon to follow. Aryon followed the guard through a maze of hallways into the private quarters of the manor, then into a small study. The Archmaster sat at a worn rectangular table in the middle, old bookshelves with decaying texts stood against the walls. He beckoned Aryon to take a seat.

"Ahh Aryon it has been quite some time, please sit. I understand you have uncovered some important information?"

"That I have Archmaster, I believe I have discovered a way to fight off the Daedric invasion."

The Archmaster's face took on a look of surprise and curiosity as he replied. "That is very important information indeed, what have you discovered?"

"A way to permanently close the portals to oblivion that are opened by the Daedra."

The Archmaster face grew even more curious "How would we go about doing that?"

"Unfortunately we would have to send troops into the realm of Oblivion itself. Once through the portal they would have to fight their way to the top of a large tower. At the top of the tower is a large chamber, in the center of this chamber is a fiery stone. It is the anchor that keeps the portal open and tied to our realm, this stone would have to be removed. Then the gate would crumble and the portal will be closed.... permanently. However I do not know what will happen the the soldiers inside after the stone is removed."

The Archmaster looked at Aryon in a peculiar manner "Are you mad! That is absurd! We would be sending what few soldiers we have to their utter annihilation!."

Aryon's temper grew at the Archmaster's remark. he tried to hold himself back and not turn this into an argument "I know it is risky Archmas..."

"No, I will not stand for this. I will not have our soldiers be thrown away and leave our cities unprotected."

Aryon's temper grew even more "Archmaster I.."

Once again the Archmaster cut him off, his voice becoming stern "I said no! What you propose is suicidal and idiotic. I can..."

Aryon had been pushed past his limit, his last nerve broken. He stood from the table knocking back his chair, his voice rising almost to a yell "And what you propose is cowardice Miner! Since when have the Redoran fled from battle!?... If you do not recall it was our house that stood alone against the empire even though we were greatly outnumbered. I will not stand idly as our homeland is once more invaded! You are a disgrace to our house Miner."

The Archmaster threw his chair back and scowled at Aryon "You will not speak to me like that, I am your superior and you will treat me with resp..."

Aryon retaliated "No, you are not my superior, you are far from it. You may hold the title of Archmaster but you do not deserve it."

His temper raging Aryon turned and left the room. Even if the Archmaster did not approve of his tactics he will carry them out anyways, he did not care what that coward thought. If they were not on the brink of a house war he would have challenged him to a duel in the Arena. However that would just portray separation and weakness to their enemies. Aryon stormed down the hallways as he made his way towards the exit.

OOC: and im ready to go ahead and skip to day 3 whenever everyone else is done posting for day 2

Bralas Rathyron, Ghostgate
---

Bralas ceased the stroking of his jawline with his thumb and forefinger, and dropped his arm to his side. With a nod of his head, he regarded the woman in front of him. "I thank you for your support, Master Llaren. You have already done myself, and my kinsmen a great service." Bralas' eyes darted around to all corners of the small room, taking it in, before he was to leave. "I'm sure we will speak again, but now I must have counsel with Omayn." And with his words, Bralas turned away from the desk and pulled oped the wooden door. He stepped back into the bustle of cooks, cleaners, and warriors. Once again the stench overtook him, it was rather disgusting. Bralas had always pictured Vvardenfell's Armigers as clean, well mannered mer. Despite his assumed ideas, he understood the predicament that the island was in, what the flames that surrounded it, the economy had taken a savage blow. Bralas began to weave his way through the warriors once again, this time heading across the room into what he had known from pictures as the Tower of Dusk.

Bralas perused the area casually, it was far more calm in the tower, as well as much cleaner. There were beautifully grown Vvardenfell flowers along the wall, and educated looking Armigers and Temple scholars fingering through some of the many books from the shelves on the wall. Taking a look at the doors, Bralas eventually came upon that which read,

Galdal Omayn
Grand Marshal of Buoyant Armigers

Bralas stood straight and tall, and shuffled his robes, so that they would smoothen out. He entered the door to find a dunmer woman sitting behind a desk, working on something by candlelight in silence. An incredible looking polished Daedric helmet stood up on her desk, and her glass armor was of quality to match. It was clean, unbroken, and looked beautiful. He cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Excuse me, muthsera? My name is Bralas Rathyron, and I am an ambassador from the Great House Indoril. I have been directed to speak to you by Uvoo Llaren. Would you wish to accompany me on a trip to the Shrine of Pride, so we can further speak on matters of importance to my house?"

Ghostgate, Tower of Dusk

Omayn

Galdal lifted up her weary eyes from the map spread on the table. For a moment, she stared blankly at the Indoril ambassador, before shaking her head slightly and rubbing her eyes to ward off the sleepiness; though it was harder to see on a Dunmer's face than any of the Mannish races, one could make out signs of sleep depravation. It was obvious the Armiger commander was in a rough patch, her appearance contrasting sharply with the intricate, well kept suit of glass armour she wore.

Despite looking worn out, however, she wasn't tired witless. An Indoril? Here? He must be the mer in their armour Tidril reported... The gap of time between his arrival to the Ghostgate and showing up in her quarters wasn't difficult to explain, especially since Bralas openly admitted having spoken with Uvoo. Obviously he wasn't here merely for the pilgrimage, one didn't need to be a genius to see that - like many Indoril, the ambassador seemed straight to the point and unable or unwilling to disguise his intentions. Galdal had anticipated a day similar to this, she merely wasn't sure who'd approach her. Their Fane Mistress indicated someone from House Indoril was the most likely to approach her Armigers first, however Omayn didn't count the Ordinators out as potential seekers of an alliance.

It seems the Indoril got to us first. We'll see how that goes.

"I would welcome you to the Ghostgate, Indoril," She finally spoke, her tone rather official and cold. The Armiger intended to avoid giving Bralas the impression he would be welcomed as warmly by Vehk's warriors as he likely had been by Llaren. "But I doubt I would be first to do so. I hope you enjoy this change of locale, Muthsera Rathyron, but I doubt you will; not many do."

"Regardless, if you request my company while journeying to the Shrine of Pride, I cannot refuse. Such is the oath I swore to the Three." The wooden chair creaked silently as Galdal rose from it, furling the map on her table with one swift move of her arm that seemed a bit out of place given her weary appearance. She took the spear leaned against the wall - though crafted out of more humble materials than her armour with a tip made of silver, the smith's mastery was still apparent - with the intent to use it as a walking stick, not because she expected there to be trouble along the way.

"I presume you wish to leave for the shrine immediately." Bralas could probably fathom that whatever negotiating he intended to do with Galdal would be difficult; the Grand Marshall neglected to even show she had heard him mention discussing matters of interest to House Indoril.