OOC: After 11 hours of school, I'm much too tired to post today, or any Mondays for that matter. Will post tomorrow! :dmc:

Katja straightened her back and her chest filled with pride as she followed the gaze of the Arch Master out the window of the Council Chambers; the red haze and crimson skies over Ald' Ruhn had dissipated. Smoke still gathered over the city, but there was no doubt in Katja's mind that the Redoran of Ald' Ruhn had won the day. As the Council meeting continued, Katja couldn't help but flash a proud smile, but it soon turned to a grimace as she turned her attention back to the Council.

Out there in her home of Ald' Ruhn, her adopted kin were seizing the day back from hellish demons from Oblivion, while she was stuck standing in the Council Chambers, her sword still sheathed. Careful not to let out a sigh and turning her subtle grimace back to the stony, unmoving bearing beforehand, Kat turned her attention to what was being said in the Council Chambers. They planned not only to attack the Daedra, but to invade their very abode; nothing could have excited Katja more.

OOC: Sorry about the relatively short post, just waiting for the real action to start

EDIT: Hah, stumbled on this: http://Steinaech.deviantart.com/art/Great-House-Redoran-Poster-83424329

Ald'Ruhn
West Gate

"May ALMSIVI bless us, and guide us through this fight. May our courage and skill serve us..." Savasi suddenly tumbled from his position, bent on one knee, praying with some warriors. Carefully getting his footing, he unsheathed his sword and quickly made his was to the oblivion gate. He didn't even have to make it all the way to know what had happened. The shouting, the joy, made it apparent that somehow the gate had closed. Even knowing this, he could quite believe it and rushed to out there to see for himself. It was true, the gate was closed. The Redoran had somehow won this battle. "We are blessed by ALMSIVI" he shouted to the warriors still inside Ald'ruhn. "The gate is closed."

Sheathing his sword, Savasi made his way to the group that was going to enter the gate. "Serjo Ferther Mano," Savasi called out as he approached the group. "It seems you and your men hadn't the need to enter the gate after all. Though, we shouldn't take this victory lightheartedly. It may only be a matter of time before the gate reopens." Savasi was now standing in the midst of the group. "If there is anything that I may assist with, just let me know." Savasi could only barely hide how happy he was that the gate closed.

Aryon eyed the dunmeress, daughter of Neloth and perhaps one of the more difficult members of the council. Aryon had an advantage that the other council members perhaps saw as as a disadvantage. His youth, or relative youth compared to the other council members who have poisoned their heads for hundreds of years in their own filth. Katsaniah hopelly would not be stagnated in such arrogance, poised in such vanity as they were. Aryon could see it in her eyes, that without his help Neloth would turn her into what he was and that same jaded darkness encrusted in spiteful pride would become her as it was him.

"You've grown beautifully. What a trajedy your father denies your sight to all the young men in Morrowind." Aryon offered a genuine smile, pleasant and almost fatherly although he perhaps seemed more like the 'fun uncle' that would visit once in a while. "There is a council in Ebonhart about this business with the Daedra. I would go but a Telvanni council without an Arch-Magister would be all but pointless. Hence forth I can think of no one better. Would you go in my stead and listen in? I know if there is anything to be said your much guarded heart will speak to you."

Indeed Aryon could use many more like her in the council. By the time the Telvanni would become council members, they'd already be old, stuck in their ways, isolationistic, spiteful over all pond scum with a god complex. Telvanni can not move forward with such people. He had thought that the Nevarine would have stayed and continued the prophecy but that seemed to last only as far as Azura's nose did.

"Take this." Aryon handed her a ring. "It will take you back to the Wolverine hall. There you can use the Mages Guild transport to Ebonhart. Don't think of it as humiliating, but of being tactful." He offered another short smile.

Darvon Valno,
Outskirts of Ald-Ruhn

"ABARWEZIH! ABARWEZIH!" Darvon continued the cheer, along with several other of the warriors. He pumped his sword with each cry, the blade already glistening with two clannfear's and a scamp's blood. The cries would no doubt be heard in Ald-Ruhn. The large Dunmer couldn't help but smile, looking as the warriors cut down the remaining demons, pitiful numbers now, without their endless aide. Still whooping, he tore of his Gah-Julan helmet, getting his first clear look at the sky, no longer burning red.

His smile remained, even as he stooped down to help the wounded. They would recover just fine. He pulled one wounded man over his shoulder, and began to carry him back to their city, along with the several others that turned to the hurt rather then hunting down the remaining monsters.

Dratha,
Sadrith Mora

Dratha still held her sneer as she and her retinue of mages entered the Council building. The place was filled with nostalgia to her; she had not been in this building since she was a lowly Mouth, so many centuries ago. She hoped to leave from this dreadful place as soon as possible. A Master does not become such by looking back, but striving forward.

She was unsurprised to see Aryon had already arrived, but was more so by the younger face of the female. She thought she should recognize the girl, and after thinking of it for a moment, it came to her. Neloth's daughter. Was he too frightened of the outside world to come himself? Before completely passing through the round door leading into the room filled with the giant crystals and platforms, she raised her hand, the simple gesture commanding her guardian maidens to stay outside.

As she entered, she only offered, "Aryon." as her only greeting to the Master, and only because she wasn't a fool: She knew a threat when she saw one, man or not. But to the girl she offered the slightest smile and a wink. Other then that, she floated around the crystal to where her Mouth would have been standing, and where she once stood. She rose, and silently stepped onto the round elevation, subtly studying the younger girl as she did. She would have to learn more of her.

Sakin Eser-Ran,
Grazelands outside of Vos

Sakin and his team gathered once more within the thick grass, all thoughts on the explosive mystery.

"Do you think it was those gates?"
"There, look! The sky isn't red on the mountainside anymore!"
"What do you think it means?"

They all spoke in hushed whispers, still aware of their position. Sakin, however, remained silent, until one of the other scouts asked, "Does this means we are done here?" to which Sakin only replied, "No. We keep scouting, as we were paid too." In truth, the Ashlander mercenary simply doubted that this was the end. If something seemed to good to be true, it usually was. It was only a temporary reprieve, if at all.

Ald'Ruhn

Overtaken by the moment, Arsayn took a step back, then dashed forward, jumping over the barricade. The fall was a long one, however, Arsayn was agile enough not to ignobly stumble and fall down upon landing. With a yell 'Abarwezih! ONWARDS!' he rammed his shashka's handle straight into the eye of a nearby Dremora, forcing the creature to stumble backwards. It was an opponent to respect, though, as even with such a grave injury, the Dremora still did not withdraw; however, it fell moments after recoiling from the Redoran lesser noble, another victim of the shashka. With a grin that would be understood only by other Redoran, Arsayn jumped back slightly, before leaping forward again, cutting down Daedra left and right.

However, had victory not been within reach, Arsayn's rashness may have brought his doom. As the last daedroth was slain, and Redoran victory made solid, the young Dunmer felt his hands fall to his sides. The handle of his shashka slipped out of his palm, everything blurred, before Arsayn collapsed, fainting from exhaustion. Any who had seen him in the battle that day would've forgiven this, as the noble had more than proved to be worth his position in the House Redoran. Even after he had passed out, though, a victorious smile remained on his face, his blood-soaked armor and weapon, empty quiver and shredded shirt making it obvious that he was an active participant in the battle.

Sadrith Mora, Council Hall

The council building was just up ahead, it was the exact same now as it had been many years ago. "I'm surprised it is still in the same condition considering how unimportant it is. The mouths never come to any agreement on matters, when there rarely is any" he spoke to no one in particular though his wizard guards nodded as if in mutual agreement. Two more guards flanked the bridge entrance and two more at the doors of the council hall. So many guards here, Aryon is paranoid of something happening he thought to himself, no need to risk speaking out if Aryon has moles everywhere.

Raising his hands forward he mentally opened the door in his mind and it did so before him in reality. "Wait here by the entrance and watch all who enter" he instructed his guards who nodded. He opened the next door with his hands and looked at those who had gathered. Stood there were Arch-magister Aryon himself who had arrived first. Also there was a young girl he had never seen before, he did not know why she was here but she would most likely introduce herself. Mistress Dratha was unsurprisingly here already considering he had seen her ship. Gesturing to them he spoke "Greetings Arch-magister, I'm glad to see that you acknowledged the meeting. Master Baladas shall be here shortly" he turned to Dratha and spoke bluntly "Mistress Dratha" then he turned to the young girl and offered his hand "Nice to see you madam, I don't believe we have had the pleasure to meet before"

Sadrith Mora.

Upon hearing Master Aryon's kind words, Katsaniah's eyes fluttered up with surprise, as she offered him a hearty chuckle. Varion seemed rather surprised over his mistress's actions, he was not used to seeing her appear...happy. Usually, he would see a nonchalant, perhaps even sad expression written across her face. However, the Atronach did not mind hearing her laughter, it was a far better sound than of her muttering words of anger underneath her breath.

With a warm smile on her lips, Katsaniah dimmed her chuckle as she replied, "Serjo, your words flatter me."

As Aryon continued to speak, the Sorcereres's red eyes lit up with a sparkle, showing obvious signs of being intruiged by his offer.
Only once had she been outside of Telvanni grounds, but at that time she was not permitted to look around on her own, nor to stay there for very long.
Bowing her head slightly, she answered with a humble tone,

"It would be an honor to go in your place, I promise to represent the Telvanni well, and that everything goes smoothly. May I ask how I should travel?"

But before she could even finish her sentance, Aryon had already places a ring in her hand. The ring was simple in looks, but shimmered with a weak enchantment. Katsaniah's eyes studied the ring, seeming cautious of using the Mages Guild's services, however, she did not want to object or seem rude, she was after all standing infront of the Arch-Magister.

Tucking the ring into her pocket, Katsaniah thanked Aryon. Just as she was about to say farewell, the sounds of someone entering the Councillor's Chambers was heard. Waiting to see who it was, the figure of Mistress Dratha appeared, her lips were pursed, though her expression changed into a typical sneer as she approached. Bowing as the Magister walked by, Katsaniah couldn't help but smile as the Magister gave her a wink. It was no secret that Mistress Dratha despised men, a fact proven whenever someone visited Tel Mora.

Thanking Aryon again, Katsaniah walked over to where Mistress Dratha stood, and she bowed down again, though slightly more gracefully this time. "Magister Dratha, I am glad to see you you have arrived to Sadrith Mora in good health. I hope the meeting goes without too much trouble." Katsaniah's lips curled into a smile, she knew all too well that her father would not make things easy. He never did. Usually, he was silent, though when he did have something to say, it was rarely anything nice. Never had she understood why he acted in such a way, in her eyes, all the Magister's were grand, how could one not respect them?

It seemed the meeting was not too far off, seeing as another councillor had entered the chambers, though Katsaniah could not regonize his face, and was only left to assume by his rich clothing and elegant appearence, that he was indeed high amongst the Telvanni. Keeping the smile on her lips as he greeted himself, Katsaniah took his hand as she introduced herself,

"Good day, Serjo. No...I do not think we have met, I am Katsaniah Alvales Neloth. The pleasure of meeting you is truely mine."

Ald-Ruhn.

Thaden's face must have looked like a miner who had just struck rich by finding gold, because his smile was huge at this sudden victory. Not only that, but he could now return back to Theloria. It would be an understatement to say so though, because the Dunmer practically ran back to Ald-Ruhn, still equipped with his Bonemold armor. Rushing, Thaden did not take the time to even wipe his face clean off the blood and soil, instead he just hurried off to Ghostgate, where he knew Theloria would be. Despite his cheerful smile, he couldn't help but feel a sense of worry, Rumare had told him Ghostgate was turning bad, but that had been a while ago now. Perhaps things had changed to the better...but there was a chance it could have changed to the worse.

As he came closer, and within view of Ghostgate, Thaden's eyes scanned the numerous corpses which laid spread across the ground. Brave warriors had fallen to the vicious creatures, yet so had many Deadra, who had felt the wrath of the Buoyant Armigers. Quickening his pace, Thaden went up to the front of the gates, where the surviving were healing their wounds, and retrieving their comrades from the heaps of bodies.

It was then, his pace went from fast, to slow and cautious. A shiver ran down his spine, as if his body was preparing him for a shock. And there, not far from the Tower of Dusk, laid a woman resting her head against a Dunmer's lap. The woman's face was covered by a blanket of bright, almost white hair. Theloria. There was no other he could think of. Fearing the worse, Thaden ran up her, a look of disbelief on his face.

Nadena looked up at Thaden. At first, she assumed he was perhaps a Redoran who had been sent to help. "I'm sorry to dissapoint your fighting spirit, but the battle is over. We have vanquished the demons who tainted this ground, you have no reason to stay here."

Suddenly, Nadena saw the man's red eyes glare at her, his lips were pursed tightly together, as if they were attempting to lock in his screams of anger. Before she could say anymore, Thaden snapped at the girl as he went down on his knee, and forcefully took Theloria into his arms away from Nadena. "I'm not here for the battle, foolish girl. Come on, tell me what happened to her. Now!"

Poor Nadena's eyes stared back at the Spellsword with frightened eyes, her words refused to roll off her tongue at first, but she eventually managed to quietly reply, "...She..she was hit by a poisioned arrow...I've already treated the wound. She's not dead you know. But the medicine knocked her out."
A sigh of relief escaped Thaden's lips as he hugged Theloria's body. So she was not dead...thank the gods...

Nodding at the girl, Thaden got up on his feet, Theloria still resting in his arms. "I'm taking her back to the Temple, you don't have to worry. Just you make sure these others get back safely."

The Temple, Ald-Ruhn.

It did not take long until Theloria awoke from her sleep. With a mind still hazy from the medicinal herbs she had taken, the young half elf peered around her surroundings, not regonizing where she was first. Then, it went up for her. The Temple...yes, she was resting on one of the beds. Turning her head slowly to the side, her eyes smiled with joy when they met the pair of crimson eyes looking back at her.

"Thaden..."

Before she could say any more, Thaden laid a finger on her lips, as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. "Shh...try to relax. Your body needs it, especially after the mistreating it just recieved." The smirk spread across his thin lips was something Theloria was all too familar with, and she couldn't help but laugh. But, as her eyes shifted focus on Thaden's face, she noticed the filth, and most unsettling of all, the blood. Frowning slightly at him, she removed his finger gently as she spoke,

"I was worried about you. If I had the strength for it, I'd shoot a couple of arrows at you to show it. You could have at least told me you were going...instead of just running off like that."

A michievous grin was all she got in response, and Thaden casually responded, "Luckily for me, you're too tired to give me a lesson. Maybe I should keep a couple of those herbs to calm you down from to time, hmm? And I'm sorry...but there was no time. But hey, I'm here now, aren't I? Also, I just went out and got you from Ghostgate. You really need to learn how to show gratiude, you know."

"Pff. You do that, you'll be the one who will need them. And did you now? I was wondering how in Nirn I even got back here. Did everything go well at Ghostgate? What happened to the others?"

But, Theloria did not get any chance to hear the answer to her questions, for the herbs Nadena had used on her were indeed quite powerful, and as Theloria's eyes closed, her mind drifted off into yet another deep slumber.

Vivec

"A message? From who?" The Ordinator's patience was lost. Just who was this Ordinator trying to trump protocol and get into the Office Halls? Must've been a newly appointed Ordinator, or an Acolyte just confused and hadn't taken to his lessons well. The interrogating Ordinator's hand relaxed on the handle of his Ebony Mace, the torch bearing Ordinator opposite of them watching the situation unfold with peeked curiosity.

" Soon, very soon. I have been sending out patrols every other hour to patrol the roads to Pelegiad and Balmora. The one leaving for Balmora shall leave in thirty minutes, and while you are out, I shall also have you take the patrol and check the surronding egg mines for any remaining workers, so I suggest you prepare. " Proximo said, his voice matching the grim look on his face. The miners had been a constant distraction since the crisis had started, and as of late, he hadn't heard much coming from the local mines.

" Do you have any questions, Tiberius? " He continued, taking one more puff of rich smoke into his lungs before he dumped the charred tobbacco leaves into the wind. After placing the beatiful pipe back behind his belt, he slid one scarred hand through his short, black, sweaty hair, knocking loose the layer of dust that had collected. " If not, I suggest you get a bit of rest. "

As he turned to walk away, Proximo suddenly stopped, bothering only to turn his head to the side as he spoke. " And remember, Tiberius. You represent the legions and her empire, do not come off weak infront of the Hlaalu nobles. " With that being said, he continued foward towards his office, cape dancing behind him in the breeze.

OOC. Sorry for the crappy post, have been super busy of late.

Ald'ruhn: Outskirts

Garisa Llethri stood silent as his fellow Redorans roared, soaking in the raw emotion and power of this moment. His eyes roamed across the battlefield, solemn pride filling his heart as he acknowledged his slain brethren. Their sacrifice would not be forgotten and these daedra would pay dearly. With a deep breath, his shoulders finally relaxed. Retainers of his house moved among the corpses, finishing off any daedra that had not had the good fortune to die yet.

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

Beniamus fluidly wiped the blood from his sword with the sleave of his shirt before returning to his surveyance of the bodies littering the ground. He whispered a prayer over each fallen comrade he passed, his hands lightly grazing each armored warrior. Too many.

He could not save those who had fallen, but he would help those who had suffered injury. Restoration was a primary focus in his training and he made his way across the battlefield offering his services to those who needed it.

Ahanibi-Maimus Egg Mine - Northern Ashlands

The ashen dust clung to Breves' armor as he jogged forward, dulling the normally pristine shade of his steel plate. The mine was visible in the distance and his keen elven eyes could make out a handful of corpses. With a strong forward sweep of his arm, he signaled his retainers to spread out in a half circle as they converged on the mine entrance, their own eyes sweeping the area. Two of them drew arrows as they readied their bows. All hoped for the best, but the corpses did not bode well for the fate of the miners.

Ald'ruhn

The clouds rolled back, the crimson in the air faded, the smoke scattered and the fires burnt out. It was victory for House Redoran, even as Dan'Remas Assarethi lay between two barrels at the bottom of the barricade, Mondros Balur pulled the Redoran banner back up into the air, and Varvur Sarethi whooped and cheered. The cries were as much of joy as of disbelief. To the left and right, men were embracing each other, shedding their helmets and walking across the killing field to kick at the bloodied Daedra corpses.

Varvur clambered over the wall of clutter and down into the puddles of blood and mounds of broken bodies. Many Redoran were lost today... But this was a great battle! Redoran has proven herself like never before. None shall stand before us when we drive back the very hordes of hell! Elated, the boy-scarcely-a-man, scampered through the dead and ran to meet the others who fought in the field. He didn't know, but many older men were feeling like boys again, the mirth and joy bursting through the tough Redoran demeanour.

Dan'Remas was carried away hastily by two scarfed healers. The carried him across the ashy terraces of Ald'ruhn and up towards the shelter of a public house. A crowd of tearful women, excited boys and screaming girls huddled outside. "Where's the innkeeper?" Dan'Remas asked with his gruff, commanding voice. He took no care for his wounds. This is nothing but a cut to the shoulder. I've had worse hunting nix-hounds... Apparently there was no innkeeper. "What's happened... the battle..." Dan's vision began to fade. "Somebody, tell me!"

At that very moment, a runner came up from the battlefield with a smile from ear-to-ear and a grin shinier than a polished alembic. "The battle is over! Redoran prevails! Up, people of Redoran! Victory is at hand!" Dan'Remas threw his eyes open with the last of his energy and shouted back with great thanks for the news. As much as he could, he issued orders to open the pub for healers to take care of the wounded. He told the runner to go find the wounded, even as the healers eased him onto a pallet beside the counter.

Mondros Balur stood with three Morvayn retainers. "Victory is ours, brothers," he cried cheerfully. The three men were of an age that a few summers ago they may have been boys as green as Ascadian summer grass. They all agreed on one thing: that Redoran was invincible. If the hounds of Oblivion could not defeat them, what mortal foe would dare attempt to? The retainers were scarred and cut, with black eyes, black and burned hands, bleeding legs and bruised arms. Despite all that, their celebration was fearsome. "Put down your weapons, kinsmen. Take heart! The battle is over but we have lost many. Do not overestimate House Redoran. We are strong and noble, but this recovery will not be so fast..." Mondros sat with a chitin axe across his lap, oddly melancholy, looking up at the clear blue skies.

Molag Mar

Ryam walked along the paved court, his heavy-heeled boots making a racket... An inaudible racket! Amidst the smooth buildings with their neutral colours and dull edges were crowded shambling huts made from anything at hand. Refugees, Ryam thought with pity, all the down-trodden people between Ascadia and Zafirbel Bay are flocking here. They come, more and more as each day passes. And they say that Molag Amur is barren and no men dare walk there...

There was a certain safety in Molag Mar that could not be found in the Telvanni mushroom-towers or the Hlaalu merchant villas. Where Suran was larger than Molag Mar, it was full of merchants and cutthroats and skooma-eaters. The refugees who needed pity and aid would not find friendship in the hands of the cunning and greedy Hlaalu. Tel Branora was safe on its island off the coast, perhaps, but no refugees had means to get there. And the cold, heartless Telvanni wizards and their mushroom towers enslaved the poor with little abandon.

Here. Here in Molag Mar, the eclectic mix of daring Buoyant Armigers, warm Indoril and fast Redoran held the dark things at bay. The Ashlands and Molag Amur were no threat to Molag Mar so long as good men still held the garrison. A few might hold the Velothi ziggurat against tenfold more. The streets were tight and crammed in. It was noisy, with thousands of people talking and yelling and bartering and fighting and dealing. There was ever the smell of food in the air, rich scents of different textures. Here was a balance between the military, the cosmopolitan and the rural. Ryam loved Molag Mar, even with its cold and bland Velothi structures and strict Temple virtues. As a Buoyant Armiger, Molag Mar and Ghostgate were a little part of him and he could find hope and sojourn in the shadow of virtuous lords.

Or so he thought.

Fifteen year-old Adibael was running down the avenue, creating uproar as he went. Ryam busily bartered with a man offering him a skewer of cliff racer meat roasted on a bed of hackle-lo leaves. "Fine," Ryam conceded, handing over the two drakes. He retrieved the corkbulb spike and bit quickly into the warm flesh. Saliva and oil dripped across his chin, but the two drakes were worth it. The fine white cliff racer briasts was cooked through just right, and the hackle-lo made the salty meat more tolerable.

Adibael ran smack, bang! into Ryam. The meat flew away and the silence of a hundred greedy eyes was followed by the poor scampering for the last morsels. Ryam angrily spun and grabbed the boy, lifting him up by the sides of his shoulders. A measure of strength was hidden under lean Indoril-style armour. "Damn you, boy! What did you steal this time?"

Adibael looked up at the Indoril helmet. The stern face of Nerevar looked back, scrutinizing him. "Uh... I... I to-"

"THAT BOY HAS MY NECKLACE!"

A slim Dunmer woman with a short auburn mohawk was running through the crowd. At her side rested a dagger as long as Ryam's forearm. Without a sheath, the twisted black iron glimmered in the shadow of her half cape. The cape was a fine gold, or at least shiny yellow weave, with slaughterfish scales sewn into it. It cinched at her left shoulder, above a full bosom. The woman might not have been much older than Adibael, if not for the long blade at her side and her audacious manners.

Ryam looked down at Adibael. "Really?" The Buoyant Armiger was just as amazed at the woman's fiery temper. She arrived promptly and tore a fine chain of ebony links from the boy's tight fist. Without a moment's hesitation, she looked up at Ryam. She was rather short. Affronted, Ryam raised his eyebrows. "And who in Nerevar's name are you?"

"I am Seryn Darvel. You would do well to remember that name, Armiger."

He stood up as straight as he could, and saluted again. "Don't worry. The day I get pushed around by some fools from Hlaalu, is the day I go and live with the goblins." he said with a smirk. He did have a few questions though, and he wanted some answers quickly so he could go gather some maps of the surrounding area.

"Just a few questions sir." he replied, as he received more favorable duty checking up on the egg mines. He had absolutely not experience with that, and only knew the basic idea of what happened in the mines, but he was merely checking on the workers.

"How many men am I getting, and how many are in this fort? What was your current plan? To continue patrolling the roads for as long as possible, eliminating any Daedric threats?" he asked, pausing for a second.

"Also, are the workers just to be checked up on? Or brought back?" he asked, making sure he didn't forget anything.

Suddenly the sky lit up, blinding him for a second as his eyes adjusted to the brilliant light. Four beams of fire were in the sky, and Tiberius felt his jaw drop, as he watched the amazing spectacle as they met and a large orb of fire began forming in the sky, and he felt as the wind pick up and as dark clouds were kicked up. The ground began to shake faintly, and all of a sudden, the orb exploded, sending a ring of fire out across the sky.

Tiberius stood perfectly still, jaw closed again, though his eyes rather wide. "What in the bloody hell was that?" he asked, turning his head to regard Proximo. Whatever it was, it could not bode well for them, and he thought of his personal predicament. "I shouldn't even be here." he muttered. "[censored] luck."

Ald Velothi

Harald stood on the peak of a hill, his longsword still sat in the baldric on his back, the ornate hilt peaking over his left shoulder. The sword had sheathed itself under Harald's roundshield, the blue paint almost chipping away from use. Behind him almost five hundred soldiers hid behind the shelter of the hill, and his ships guarded by a paltry few lay somewhere in the distance.

The fishing village of Ald Velothi lay before him, chimney smoke rose from most of the shacks and the one thing that would alert the Redoran of their presence, the Guardhouse. Just near their position, off in the distance behind them, a mighty assortment of dwemer structures lay, no doubt a pinacle of defense against the reavers of old.

" There will be NO quarter!" Harald shouted, the bearded man put on his most ferocious act. His men replied with the same roaring devotion to war.

" THERE WILL BE NO QUARTER!!!" the men sounded off.

Harald waited.

In the distance a lone Snekke, a single longboat with thirty of Harald's best, a mixture of Huscarls, Beserkers, and Veterans. All battle hardened, well equipt and battle hungry, awaiting their chance for Sovngarde. The ship slowly was being led into the dock.

That was their que, at any moment thirty of those battle hungry warriors would pour forth from the Snekke and engage the townsfolk, slaughtering where necessary.

" You will [censored]! You will Pillage! and you will, by the gods! Strike fear into the hearts of these dark elf scum!

" [censored]!" the chant went up three times, these raiders the nastiest of soldiers. Led by lust, greed and hatred.
" LOOT!" the chant, again, went up three times.
" TO BATTLE" this time Harald the Red joined in.

The chant rang only once.

~*~

A young captain by the name of Randall hefted his sword, little did the deckhand know that crouched in the guise of crates, barrels and bolts of cloth lay a war party of Harald's best. Reavers, Pirates, Honor Guards, Huscarls, Reachmen Beserkers, Veterans and even one from the Skaal. The young Dunmer's red eyes widened when these men emerged from hiding, baling over the sides of the ship and onto the docks.

" GUARDS!!!! WE'RE UNDER ATTA-" his words were cut off, a slim shafted arrow from a shortbow caught him in the throat.

Molag Mar

With his teeth gritted behind the mask, Ryam set Adibael on the ground - who promptly whimpered at the collective feet around himself. Ryam removed his helmet, set his shoulders back and square; leaned forward with his clear eyes and looked down at the audacious little woman. "I am Serjo Ryam Llervu of the Scarab, Buoyant Armiger, and old enough to be your grandfather," he announced with pomp, then laughed. "This boy is a trouble maker. Adibael... He's a vagrant. I'm sorry that he caused you trouble, m'lady."

It gave him no surprise that this Seryn knew he was a Buoyant Armiger. He simply could not have been an Ordinator; Molag Mar was supported by House Redoran in all ways pertaining to its economy and military, however fervent it was. The Seryn who stood before Ryam looked around anxiously. Her features were exceptionally "elfin" in the sense of faeries. Her features were small, precise, and certainly impressed with an air of the trickster.

When Ryam looked down again, Adibael had scampered off, no doubt to cause havoc somewhere else.

"Look, you're a godly man, right? You'd be more experienced with the ways of Vvardenfell than those tragic Western "spelunkers", wouldn't you?" She looked up hopefully, but spoke in low musical tones that hinted at dark purposes. She set her right hand to her right hip and shifted her weight with a fiendish grace. Her most forced movements were light and fluid and shapeless. Her every step seemed nothing but a ripple across water. Ryam found himself following her into Velothi's Hostel. They walked in silence across the room.

When they turned the corner down the hallway, Ryam found himself next to his room. How did I get here?

"Ryam..." she whispered so nobody could hear in the hall, "... I know you Buoyant Armigers. You're a bunch of knights-errant, so to speak. I need a bodyguard who will take me north." Seryn turned her head and gestured vaguely southwards. "I am on a quest! It is a rather daring quest, if you ask me, sera. I wish to make a Pilgrimage, the Grace of Justice, to Gnisis. I cannot go alone, the ungodly walk the streets of night, and the Daedra roam the Ashlands and the Gash... Or so the rumours say!"

Ryam raised his eyebrows. I have duties... Seryn, Lady Darvel, I'm sorry. That was Ryam's instinctive reply. "When?" This very occasion was a prime example of why Ryam was discredited by his peers. Spontaneity was frowned upon by the stern Ordinators, Vehk's other order.

"Tomorrow. There is a ship that can take us: the Whistler. Captain Rindral Dralor will take us to V'Vehk. From V'Vehk, there is a ship that goes to Ebonheart. At Ebonheart, we catch the Chun-Ook, captained by Nevosi Hlan. That will take us into the Bitter Coast. To Seyda Neen. I have two brothers in Seyda Neen, Hairan and Kausi. From there, we go on foot or by boat - but I fear there is not the money to go further by sea." Her voice dimmed, almost sad. The Bitter Coast was a stretch of dark mires, swamps, bayous and salt-marshes that stretched from the south as far north as the Gash Coast. The swamp only held three towns, the gateway to Vvardenfell which was Seyda Neen, and the insubstantial smugglers' coves of Hla Oad and Gnaar Mok. Which were very Nordic in name, and probably attitude.

She talks very fast... But this is exactly what I need! A break, finally an opportunity presents itself. I'll be able to go into Redoran country, find out what's going on abroad in the realm... And all for a godly cause! Great! "Very well, Seryn Darvel. Ryam Llervu of the Scarab will take you to Gnisis!" He made a deep bow and when he rose again she had disappeared. He turned and open the door to his room.

Sadrith Mora, Council House

"Good day, Serjo. No...I do not think we have met, I am Katsaniah Alvales Neloth. The pleasure of meeting you is truely mine." the girl replied and shook his hand. As she said the words Neloth, something tweaked in his mind and he spoke.
"Neloth? So must be Neloths daughters then I assume, never knew he had a child. Especially one who looks so young and vibrant in life" Athyn replied to her. Learning that Neloth had a daughter was something new to him. He had never heard or learnt of any Master in House Telvanni that had children in their life time. The fact that she was so young and Neloth was so old was something that didn't match. Regardless, Athyn carried on speaking with courtesy " I understand that my fellow Magister is not coming to the meeting then, a shame to be sure. I was looking forward to seeing him. The name is Master Athyn Drelos of the Tower Tel Uvirith".

Neloth not coming to the meeting wasn't that much of a surprise to him, the fact that Mistress Dratha turned up at all was certainly odd as Athyn expected her to be the least likely to appear considering most of the Telvanni Masters were men, not counting Mad Mistress Therana. Altough at her age she was barely human anymore, not counting female! Athyn wondered what excuse Neloth made to not turn up, it would be some amusemant at the very least "If you dont mind me asking madam, why has my fellow magister not turned up tonight this evening? Surely this is a most important event in House Telvanni"

Arvs-Drelen

"This meeting won't solve anything. You expect that with one little conference the whole of Telvanni will band together to push back the Daedric hordes? Dont jest" Baladas sneered at the robed man as he turned to pour himself a drink
"Sitting here torturing Dremora and drinking alchol won't do the same either" the figure bluntly replied "Perhaps you are missing out on something that would prove profitable to the house. Many of the Masters are useless, isolationist fools who do nothing but sit in their towers all day playing with magic. Something that you are unfortunatly doing here"
"What are you proposing? Killing them?" Baladas asked as he turned to face him
"Yes" he replied. Baladas almost choked on his drink as he laughed at the reply
"So this is what Athyn wants then is it. I always knew he liked to go straight to the source of the problem. Never wastes time" he put his drink back on the desk while still laughing slightly "Okay then, I will go to this meeting. At least to see what Athyn will do and I expect Aryon has the same ideas as him. Both see themselves as revolutionarys they do"
"If this is your reply then very well, Athyn should be glad to see you"
"I'm sure he will" as Baladas spoke the robed figure lifted his arm, causing a blinding white light to illuminate the room and shroud the man. As it disappeared he was gone with no trace of him left behind.

Councill Hall, Sadrith Mora.

By now, Katsaniah was quite used the surprised looks of those who did not know of her. Neloth was indeed an old man, having spent many years as a councillor. The strangest thing about it all, however, was that no one knew exactly who her mother was, not even Katsaniah herself knew anything of it. And of course, nobody in Sadrith Mora had the guts to do something as foolish as comment on it.

"I am still only a spellwright for our grand house, and I have not been out of Sadrith Mora very often either, so it does not surprise me that you have not heard of me. My father does not care for me to leave my studies, and neither do I. I am surprised I have not heard of you though, my father has never spoken of you, but I am always glad to greet my kin."

Varion gazed at Master Athyn's hand suspiciously, waiting for him to withdraw himself from his mistress. The Atronach was standing behind Katsaniah, his back straight and his arms folded behind his back, looking like a proper guard.
Katsaniah did notice this, and chuckled softly to herself, as she gave an assuring nod to him, causing Varion to calm down.
Turning her attention back to Athyn, she shook her head slightly, as she explained to him,

"Forgive me for correcting you, sera, but you are mistaken. It is no secret, my father does not care for meetings, however this one must have caught his eye, for he is indeed attending. I arrived here before him, but he should be here any minute. I envy him for being able to be here, I am quite curious of the past events that has unfolded itself here on Vvardenfell, but alas, I will have to find another way to dampen my curiousity." Katsaniah's smile turned into a slight grin for a moment, before turning dissapearing. She had always turned eager when it came to topics such as this.

"Stay put here, dispose of any who dare interupt us." Neloth strictly ordered his guards, who in response bowed to him as he woke up to the Council Hall. As always, he was dressed to show his wealthy and noble standing, and was clad in an exquisite velvet robe, which shimmered with enchantments. Even his jewelry was nothing but the finest, they too cast a beautiful color when reflected against the light.

With his head held high, Master Neloth entered the Council Hall, his face showing no sign of emotion. Raising an eyebrow slightly as he spotted Mistress Dratha, he was more concerned about the "youngest" Magister, who was conversating with his daughter.

Wrinkling his nose at this, he came closer, tilting his head in something which resembled a nod, at Master Aryon. "Well...I see our 2 of our fine councillors have already arrived, as well as our esteemed Arch-Magister." As always, his tone oozed with a pompous attitude.

Casting his eye on Master Athyn, he cleared his throat in order to gain his daughter's attention. "Do not waste your time here Katsaniah, you have tasks to attend to, do you not?"

The flame in Katsaniah's red eyes dimmed down as her father entered the room. She knew he would not be pleased to have her talk with the other magisters, and the young sorceress did not wish to anger him either, so she simply bowed to Master Athyn, and to the other councillors. "Yes. I am sorry for taking your precious time. Farwell."

With that, Katsaniah exited the Councill chambers, Varion following behind her. Well...Father does have a point...Master Aryon wished me to travel to Ebonheart, and I must not arrive late.

Serosi was taken back for a moment unsure what to answer. The most important thing to do when lying is to believe your own lie. If you yourself do not believe it you can not make another believe it. Usually he was not not keen on lying verbally and considered it generally taboo. He felt a bit of guilt for what he was about to say but knew it was essential. "And what is your name? I want to know so when I am asked if I had told anyone about the message I know which Ordinator to report. Perhaps you would like to be staioned at Dagon Fel? No? Then show me to Beral Sala, quit wasting time."

Anrel would be proud of him. She would say that was the most social thing she had seen him do in a long time. She always teased him but this wasn't the time to think of her. Instead his eyes shifted behind his mask for possible routes of escape once the deed had been done.


OOC: Step off before I break you fool!

Vivec, Temple Canton

The Ordinator would stare at the so called messenger with the slight nod of his head. Dagon Fel?
He certainly didn't want to be stationed there.
In fact, no Ordinator would. In fact, no Ordinator ever had been.

The Ordinator would unknowingly smile beneath his mask.

"My apologies Serjo, right this way." He rumbled in his scratchy voice, turning partially as if it set to guide him deeper into the Office halls before he'd snap violently around, his shield lifted hoping to smash directly into Serosi's masked face, simultaneously tearing his mace from his side.

The nearby Ordinator bearing the torch had been watching the scene, and tore his own mace from the side. He would shout "Unmask yourself!"
The five distant Ordinators drew their maces as well and began to approach in a battle readied position, maces high.

"Show yourself, Now!" The shield swinging Ordinator would order him, though complying with the order meant nothing.
He'd be attacking him more regardless.

OOC: I think it's time the Mage's Guild got a bit of the action around these parts. I'll try to read up and get myself somewhere relevant. Immortal, you might also have more character sheets coming your way for some none leadership mage members I plan to create.

Faction and Rank: Mage’s Guild, Arch-mage of Vvardenfell

Name: Hestion Alcheron

Race: Dunmer

Gender: Male

Age: 150

Birthsign: The Lady

Physical description: At six feet tall and 130lbs Hestion does not strike a highly imposing physique. A classic example of the long, slender mer, he looks to be a middle-aged man while he is in fact twice the age of a majority of the Mage’s Guild. He looks older than most of his race at his age, however, because the life he has led has wizened and aged him to a degree. But the strength, agility, and vitality of youth still courses through his fiery veins. His dark black hair still retains the oily sheen of his youth.

Short History: Hestion Alcheron was born in Tel Branora, and spent much of his youth there. He was not a high ranking member of Telvanni society (some say he is the result of relations with a Breton slave), and growing up under Mistress Therana’s insanity made him long to be elsewhere. When he was learned and wealthy enough he left and discovered the Mage’s Guild. To his dismay he found yet another incompetent leader in Trebonius Artorius. After raising through the Guild ranks at a steady pace he challenged Trebonius to an honorable duel, and won.

About the character: Though his experiences under the eccentricities of Therana affected his views of Telvanni nobles, it did not tarnish his view of the Telvanni way. Of the councilors of Telvanni, however, he respects Master Aryon the most, as Aryon is reputably the least selfish and egocentric (not by much) of the Telvanni councilors. Hestion is contemplative and tolerant, never one for rash action or quick judgment. He approaches his magic with precision and graceful care, which often makes each spell a touch more powerful than average wizards. This contrasts with his combative style, as being a Battlemage he is often at the fore of fighting wielding destructive, alterative, and mystical magicks in quick, seemingly seamless succession.

Weapons: Trebonius’ Staff (A steel staff that on contact with targets charges the air within in a 5ft radius with fiery and shock magic and weakening magic to such elements.)
Also carries a silver dagger at his hip, for any purposes.

Armor/Clothing: He wears a gold embroidered forest green robe, which loosely falls about his body. Beneath it is finely crafted and fitted Chitin armor; boots, greaves, and cuirass. On his right hand is a ring with a decent healing enchantment, the other hand a ring with a poison cure enchantment. He is still working on enchanting his armor and clothing.

Misc. Items: Necromancer’s Amulet, which grants minor resistance to most weapons, spell absorption, intelligence boosts, and meager healing. Several potions hang along his belt in small bottles, with varying effects from restorative magicks to invisibility.

Ald’Ruhn Head: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Edwinna_Elbert
Guide(in charge of teleport network): http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Erranil

Caldera Head: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Folms_Mirel
Guide: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Emelia_Duronia

Balmora Head: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Ranis_Athrys
Guide: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Masalinie_Merian

Wolverine Hall(Sadrith Mora) Head: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Skink-in-Tree%27s-Shade
Guide: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Iniel

Vivec Guild Guide: http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Morrowind:Flacassia_Fauseius

Erranil rested on the wall beside the teleport pad, a smear of blood lining the floor in front of her. It was powdered by a soft coating of gray dust, the remnants of a foolish Daedra that tried to slay her. Her eyes were closed as the Apprentice tried to relax, her life amazingly still intact.

But then the tiny jewels etched in the teleportation platform began to sprinkle to life; magic was arriving from another source through the network. Erranil monitored it as the spell grew stronger, ready to add her magicks if required. Half a second after the magic had arrived, it left a single figure with a flash of white light.

Clad in forest green, gold embroidered robes and slicking back his oily black hair, the figure looked to Erranil, then at the floor, before gingerly stepping off the platform. The High Elf watched her new Dunmeri companion for a moment, before she picked herself up off the wall. A single motion of the hand from the Dunmer stopped this, however, and she remained sitting. "Arch-magister Alcheron."

"Is Edwinna Elbert still alive and well?" Hestion Alcheron asked softly. Erranil nodded, and watched as the Mage's Guild's newest Arch-magistrate walked down the walkway, looking down to the room below.

The Ald'Ruhn Mage's Guild had two major levels, one an upstairs balcony ring, the second a proper floor beneath. At the end of the twin staircases were supposed to be two dinning tables. They weren't exactly there anymore. Some chairs still stood intact, but mostly everything was in ruins. Broken, scattered about, scorched, blood stained. A few of the mages of the guild were sitting on the remaining chairs, a few laying on the stairs, but most if not all looked alive.

Finding Edwinna was easy enough, the Dark haired Breton woman was the only one still up and moving about, a small Dwemeri spider trailing her every step. Alcheron smiled softly at this, approaching from the stairs to Edwinna and tapping her shoulder. "What happened?"

Edwinna spun around from attending to one of the mages, startled to find Hestion there. She quickly bowed, before answering. "Manis was practicing his conjurative spellcraft when the Daedra struck the city. I don't know, maybe their coming weakened the Liminal Barrier in the whole area or something, but a small portal was ripped open during his spell and a small band of Daedra were thrust into the Guildhall." She sounded frantic and nearing hysterical, before Hestion gently put a finger to her lips and silenced anything further.

"It is likely the cause you speak of. However, the Guild is needed. Those of you able to, should exit the guildhall and aid in the healing of any wounded." Hestion instructed those around him.

"But the Redor-" Hestion cut off Edwinna again with a finger.

"Heal them if they allow you to do so."

The Docks of Ebonheart.

Katsaniah placed her hands on her stomach as she groaned to herself. Never would she use the teleportation device those Imperial mages had. It was nausiating, and with the boat ride she had to endure, it was simply too much. But! She had made it to Ebonheart, and Master Aryon was right about this route, although uncomfortable, was indeed much quicker.
Peering around her surroundings with a suspicious eye, she could tell the Imperial scum were eyeing her down. Of course it showed she was of Telvanni blood. Rich clothing, stuck up attitude and most obvious of all, her Daedra guard.

Ignoring the looks, Katsaniah held her head high as she walked through the narrow streets of Ebonheart. It was an unusal place for the Dunmer, who was accustomed to the mushroom buildings, or other styles the Dunmer would build. This Imperial look wasn't to her taste, to her it could deffiantly need some...re-touching.

Escorted by two Imperial guards, Katsaniah was led to the Castle Ebonheart, and into the Grand Council Chamber it self. The interior was quite tasteful, and the room itself was enormous. Katsaniah couldn't help but find it interesting...and even strange that there were so many representives from the different houses here. There were even some of House Telvanni whom Katsaniah could regonize.

Many stairways later, Katsaniah had been led to the room where Duke Vedam Dren stood. Nodding to the two Imperials, she walked comfidently over to the Duke, and bowed to him. Although it felt wrong, Katsaniah couldnt help but think that Master Aryon would be dissapointed if she was disrespectful. After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, Katsaniah finally spoke,

"Serjo Vedam Dren, I greet you. I am Katsaniah Alvales Neloth, represenetive of House Telvanni. Unfortunatly, Arch-Magister Master Aryon could not attend today, as there has been summoned a meeting for the Magisters. Instead, he has sent me in his place."



OOC: Sorry for the short post, but am a bit busy right now. Will make posts for Theloria and Thaden later.

Faction and Rank: Nordic Raiders, Lieutenant of the Fleet and Commander of the Druzhina

Name: Oxana "The Ravenight" Ozerov but is most often called "Corvina."

Race: Nord

Gender: Female

Age: 25

Birthsign: The Lady

Physical description: 6'0, 140 Pounds. Oxana has a tall slender build with most of her height coming from her legs. Wild dark hair flows down over her shoulders, often a mess in battle covering a determined yet pretty face. Deep greenish hazel eyes show openly her fierce nature, even so they are capable of expressing a more delicate side few if any had ever seen. High cheek bones flank a defined straight nose leading down to lips on a mouth often held closed. Years of fighting from a young age has provided her a toned muscular frame but has not done away with her feminine qualities which often earn a long stare from her comrades, one you would not want being caught having by her.

Short History: Oxana was born the only child of lower nobility in the west of Skyrim. The constant inner squabling between the boyars was intetwined with the fate of her parents which were lost to the blood shed. At 8, she was sold into slavery by her parent's killers and worked as a servant girl for a rival boyar house and scrubbed, cleaned and worked for the next 8 years with no rights of her own. At sixteen the estate suffered an attack from sea raiders and she was taken captive. Now at the fragile age of sixteen some of the raiders had taken notice of her growing form and for a year would lay with her by force. Not once did she give up and eventually found the courage at 17 to slit the throats of many of the raiders in their sleep, diving off the ship and in the dead of night, swam the north seas for miles toward the shores of Skyrim. There she was found nearly dead by a monk named Dimitri. For three days she wandered between life and death until finally she awoke in his cave.
After staying with the monk for another four days she decided for herself that no one would again rule her and she would be the one who controls her own destiny. She began working as a bounty hunter and although she was young she quickly earned the epithet "Sword maiden of Hircine" due to her determination and manner in which she hunted her bounty. Until twenty she bided her time saving her money and drawing others to her adventures and exploits managed to form a band of her own comprised of other bounty hunters, mercenaries, pirates, hunters and even second and third sons of lower nobility the latter of which form her infamous Druzhina.
With the many successful raids on Breton, Imperial and Dark Elf caravans through Skyrim she ammassed enough wealth to form a fleet of her own which she used to hunt down her captors killing each one. She raided any ship of wealth passing through the northern seas and she reached as far as the Summerset Isles and the coasts of Vvardenfell earning herself the name "Corvina de nuapte" or "She Raven of Night", Ravenight in shorthand manner due to the black raven on the main sail of her ship.
More recently she has partnered up in a secondary role to another raiding party based on Solsthiem. Their plans to raid the Vvardenfell coasts became all the more interesting a few days ago when their sea routes home were cut off by "the demon's magic."

About the character: Corvina has become a hardened person distancing herself from any soft emotion she can. She is harsh and strict feeling herself able to feel alive only when in battle. She has problems getting close to others and affection is almost unheard of. Corvina holds a deep hatred for those who are weak and elves of any kind taking blade and axe so their flesh at any excuse. Prefering to get as close as possible to her enemies, she has found little use for a bow, though she will gladly use a javalin and francisca or even a crossbow for its simplicity when needed. She is a capable and agile warrior always seeking to keep her steel hot with the blood of her enemies.

Weapons: All of Nordic quality; A bastard sword, a shorter sword as a side arm, her Bardiche, her favorite weapon, a half dozen francisca throwing axes, and a one handed fighting axe.

Armor/Clothing: Usually when not fighting she wears a fur coat and fur hat with boots and gloves of the same manner. Other wise she is found wearing a nasal helmet with a spiked top, a chainmail cuirass with a form fitting briast plate covering her chest and plate shoulder covering. On her ankles and wrists she wears splinted armor along with a round shield on her back.


=============================================================

IC:

North Ald Velothi

Corvina's eyes gazed over the shores of Vvardenfell from her ship. Her Druzhina were ready, fierce Nords armed with a Spear and a Bardiche along with a half dozen javalins on their backs and a tear drop shield. The trick would be to close the distance with the Dunmer as fast as possible. In close range combat the Nords would out last the Dunmer, but if the fight began at a distance the barrage of spells and arrows would cripple the Nords. For the Druzhina it would be easy enough. Corvina had brought horses from the mainland and although Vvardenfell could not maintain any horses, Solsthiem was quite comfortable for the sturdy Nordic breeds. The goal would be simple, sack the settlements for supplies, take anything that is worth, kill those that resisted, take those left alive for ransome. Corvina was excited to face the Redoran in battle. They were great warriors, the best of Morrowind, renown for their tenacity and dicsipline surpassed only by the Legions.

"Are you ready?" A deep slightly scratchy voice spoke from behind Corvina. It was her second in command, Haakon, a giant of a man weilding a large pole axe and hammer and covered in armor and furs. He was one of the few people she trusted but only to a military extent.

"As ever." Corvina's lips curled into a vicious smile remembering a skirmish she had had in the western border of Redoran territory on the mainland. They ambushed the Dunmer caravan at close proxity. Fighting was done shoulder to shoulder, yelling, sounds of flesh being cut, bones broken and so much blood letting she reeked of it for five days straight. She had been completely soaked and she loved every moment of it. Unsure if it was the love of the fighting or the hatred of the elves that urged her on for a moment her face carried a contemplative look until she decided that it had been both.

OOC: Wo bist Storyteller? Without him we can't really keep the Council Chambers moving, and so the people involved can't really post much?

EDIT: 'Wo bist' meaning 'where is' in German

Ald Velothi

Squat brown shacks watched the northern waters lap slow against the shore. The tall-sailed Fair Helas anchored at the cluster of desolate docks that passed for Ald Velothi's port. Stern, broad-built Dunmer went about their business in the town: the pearl divers with long knives and thick knotted muscles, the fisherfolk with calloused hands and woven nets, the herders driving along their guar, the farmers carrying baskets of whatever plants would grow in the rough highlands.

OOC: Post to be completed.