Laden Jah, Bravil

Leaning over the table, Laden set his finger on a map of Cryodiil, specifically Bravil. ''Its time we devised a defense plan for Bravil'' He said aloud, ''All the silence in Morrowind is not a good sign'' . Another hand was placed on the map, ''We...have already deployed...perimeter defenses around Fort Variela, Robbers Glen Cave, and....the ruinsss of Weyandawik, like you.....ordered...'' Commander Haark answered back, in a hiss-like tone. Laden nodded, then studied the map for a few seconds.
Bravil had only two ways of entry. On Land, and on water, the Nibany Bay surrounded Bravil's rear. ''We have only fortified the front...'' Laden started, ''We now need to fortify the back...'' He tapped on the bay. ''These three canols, all of them lead to, or very close to Dunmer territory. Those would be excellent places to launch a water-based assault.'' Before Haark could speak, Laden shot his finger in the air, then slammed it back down on the map. ''But!'' He said, louder then he expected, ''Fort Aurus, Grief and Irony, each one positioned in front of a canol....'' He looked over at Haark for confirmation. The Nagas turned his head slightly to the side, ''A good....vantage point....'' He murmured.

''This way we can keep an eye on both the water and land'' Laden said, a little proud in himself. ''I want you and your men to secure these forts, if war does start, then it will be imperative that we control these.'' Haark didn't answer at first, but then slowly nodded, ''Assss you wissh, sssire.....but...I may have to pull out....my garrison in Castle....Bravil....'' He replied seeming a bit unsure.
''Do what you need to do...'' Laden said, ''I want to make sure our land is as secure as possible, once you've secured the Forts, I want you to return back to the Blackwood-Morrowind Border. The Dunmer are up to something, and I want to know what it is.'' Haark gave a solemn nod, and at that Laden mentally grinned. He liked the Nagas Commander, he followed orders without question, and seemed well-respected. He watched Haark, walk over to a door on the other side of the room, open the door, and vanish. Leaving Laden alone, with the Guard that stood beside another door. Laden's secret war-room had several entrances and exits. Some exits lead outside Bravil, some into other houses, and Inns. The Guard at the door, guarded the main entrance.

Laden walked over to the door, and gestured to the guard, the guard then proceeded to unlock the door, and open it to allow Laden through. The Son of a Madman, walked up the dark flight of stairs, before pulling the lever at the top. The wall slid away once more, creating an open doorway to Laden's Living room. He stepped through, and walked to the fire-place. A small brick stuck out, Laden grasped it and yanked it back. He turned back to the open wall, and watched it slide back into place.
He sighed contently, then headed towards the door to Bravil. He stepped outside into the cold air of the night, and shivered loudly. I hope it gets warmer, this cold weather is going to kill me..., He groaned loudly, then began his walk to the Castle.

General Maximus removed his helmet from his head, and placed it under his arm as he bowed quickly at the presence of Chancellor Ocato. He looked around the council hall for a moment before replying to the High Chancellor. Ocato was a tall Elf, and General Maximus had a high respect for him.

"High Chancellor, I'am sorry to have awaken you at these times of night. But I thought this urgent to ask, and tell you. My castle in Elsweyr is constantly under attack by those impossible Kahjiit. They attack my castle in a skirmish like way, and I'am unable to allow my Legion to persue them because of this letter!"

Maximus layed the paper down, with some anger in it. He was not very happy, but he did not want to anger Ocato either. He looked at Ocato, and continued. His tone had risen slightly, to a more sturn demanding tone.

"I wish that you allow me to persue these Kahjiit, and destroy their known base of operations. My Legion is 10,000 strong, and could easily push over this small Kahjiit force that threatens my people, Our people. I also wish to ask that you send messangers to create a uprising in Western Cyrodiil. I have heard reports that the peasants living there are treated most horrid, and their food is taken from them without willingness to the give them. The peasants are weak, and poor, but it would give the fools in the west something to worry about. Giving us time to strike them!"

General Maximus stood firm at his request, and could hardly stare at Chancellor Ocato. The council hall seemed to echo as General Maximus finished speaking his mind to Ocato. He was hopeful, and wanted to defend his people, and the great Empire he had been born under, and his family had been born under for generations.

Deleted.

High Chancellor Ocato, White Gold Tower

Ocato listened to the man's ranting with little enthusiasm, feeling the Khajiit posed no threat, as they were probably little more then raiders. However, the fact that the man commanded such a large force intrigued him, and he could use this man up north where soldiers were needed in abundance. He looked over the man once, a small grin on his long face, as he continued to bore into the mans face with his stare.

"Do what you need about those damn cats, but don't chase them to far into Elsweyr, do you understand?" he asked sharply. He continued to regard the man and his words of making a stir in the west. The thought intrigued him, but as always his mind calculated the risks, like the start of a war with the west. He just shook his head and rubbed his eyes wearily, thinking as hard as his tired brain could.

"Contact General Vallenturas once the Khajiit are taken care of. He is at Fort Nikel now, but will be gone by tomorrow I believe. Send him a letter if need be, but he will probably want to give you your orders. I suggest going to Skingrad for the moment, then move north for the time being unless General Vallenturas orders you otherwise." he explained.

"Now if that is all you needed, you are dismissed." he said, not really caring if the man was done because Ocato was done. He headed to the stairs where his comfortable bed called to him, and he almost ran up the many stairs, he was so anxious for sleep.



OOC: Meh..... :yuck:

( OOC: Reason for the OOC only post is to tell all of you to slow down a bit, alright? )

OOC: W00tz from 1-10 how fast were we going?

Imperial City, White Gold Tower

General Maximus bowed once more, and placed his helmet back on. He quickly marched out of the council hall, and crumpled the paper up in his hands. He smiled at the guards, and was quickly followed by his two awaiting guards at the door. He was glad he could get rid of these Kahjiit troublemakers. They would take the pressure off his people, and his mind. His guard helped him onto his horse, and the group trotted through the streets back to Castle Branix under the cover of darkness. The sky was nice, and clear. Stars, and other nearby planets could be seen above as the General and his guard trotted through the night towards home.

"My Lord. What did Chancellor Ocato tell you? Something good hopefully."

General Maximus looked over at the flagmen, and grinned. He was obviously excited. He was finally able to assault the Kahjiit camp. And it would be done quickly.

"Yes my good servant, Chancellor Ocato told me good news. We have much ahead of us, and must make haist!"

The group trotted faster, almost in a charge. The sound of the horses clomping on the roads echoed through the silent night as they road alone. The night was fresh, and the chance of surprise was apon them. General Maximus would have his minor victory.

OOC: Sorry for the fast forward, just want to get this over with so we can move on.

Castle Branix, Elsweyr

A small group of Light Cavalrymen waited at attension as General Maximus road along their line checking them over once more. They all sat looking powerful, and strong. General Maximus' skills as a horseman were in high regards with his men.

"We shall attack this Kahjiit pest problem from all sides. Everyone stick together, do not break formation. Kill everyone you see. They are all hostile to the Empire!"

"HAZAH!" came the reply from the cavalrymen as they marched out behind General Maximus. The night was at its peak, and the cavalry moved quickly through the forest trees. Their clomping sound was drowned out by the sound of leaves rustling below their hooves. General Maximus was exstatic. His chance was here, and he was not going to miss it for anything. The camp finally came into sight, it was silent, and the sound of burning embers echoed through the trees. General Maximus formed his cavalrymen into their battlelines, and watched to make sure no Kahjiit spotted them.

"Ok men, prepare yourselfs!"

The sudden pounding of horses hooves hitting the ground shook it, and awoke the stunned Kahjiit. Maximus drew his sword from its shieth, and swipped at an unknowing Kahjiit warrior popping his head out to see. The Kahjiit fell to the ground headless as Maximus continued with the rest. The camp was not very large, so the small fight lasted only moments. The cat warriors tried to defend themselfs the best they could, but it was no use. The light cavalrymen struck down any and all Kahjiit that was in the camp. After the minor massacre was over, the cavalry along with General Maximus road quickly back to Castle Branix for Maximus had to send word to General Vallenturas.

The castle was elated as the cavalry returned, and spoke of what had happened. Some of the men imbellished the fight, but General Maximus did not care. It boosted moral, and gave hope to the people. After getting into his nightwear, General Maximus sat at his table writing his letter to Vallenturas. A awaiting messanger stood at his side.

General Vallenturas

This is an urgent letter from General Maximus Arillius of the Southern Legion stationed in Elsweyr. I have met with Chancellor Ocato, and he has informed me of your presence at Fort Nikel. I have been given orders to speak with you about further matter in the West, and North. He has told me that I should head for Skingrad in any case that it maybe in peril. I'am to get any further orders from you, my Legion numbers at 10,000 men. I'am willing to move them where ever is possible at the moment.

The forces in the West are an unknowing enemy, and could strike at any possible time. I believe I could do more here in the South, and West than in the North. As you read this, I'am sending 4,000 good men to Skingrad as ordered by Chancellor Ocato. May the Empire reign long and true.

Sincerly,

General Maximus Arillius


Maximus blew on the paper to dry the ink quickly, and folded it into the envelope where he stamped it. He handed the messanger the letter, and looked directly into his eyes. The messanger understood the message Maximus was sending, but he stated it anyway.

"You are to not stop until you reach Fort Nikel. This letter is to be given from your hands directly to General Vallenturas. No eye's should see this letter besides yours, mine, and Vallenturas. Do you under stand?"

"Yes my lord!"

Maximus smiled, and released the messanger to his duty. For the night, celebration would be had all through the castle over their tiny unoticable victory. Maximus layed in his bed blew out the candle, and fell asleep quickly. His day was long, and he needed as much rest as he could get.

Elindrin

Upper half of post Deleted.


Elindrin walked down the stairs with A'ren'Ger. At the bottom of the stairs they entered the Main room, bed bunks lined the walls, and tables stretched down the middle of the room. "Where are Taarfire and Jolten?" Elindrin asked Ren. "Both of them are in your city house" Ren replied. Hmmm...i better get back to the house. Elindrin thought. "I presume you can handle the fort until morning, old friend?" He continued. "Of course," Ren replied. "Farewell."

Elindrin left the fort and walked to the Imperial city Elven gardens district. Where he unlocked the door and entered the house. He turned Northeast and opened a door silently and checked on Jolten, who was sound asleep. Closing the door behind him, Elindrin waalked up the stairs, through the corrider, and into his bedroom. Where taarfire slept on the bed. Undressing, he lay down on the bed, and slept.

General Reinhardt,

As I'm sure you know, Ocato and I recently held a meeting together, and however brief it was, there has certainly been alot going on. The Chancellor, through a descision of his own, has sent a letter of... friendship to the Nords to the north, requesting trade and according to Ocato, perhaps more.

Obviously there is fault to be seen in this, unless Ocato has some other motives which he has not shared with me yet, because I do not think the Nords should be trusted or given any form of friendship until we can clearly gauge their own motives.
I was unable to talk to the Chancellor much afterwards, although he still forbids any movements that might seem threatening. However, the time of inaction has come to an end I think, and we need to take things into our own hands.
Tomorrow, I move the 1st Legion further north, going to the northwest of Fort Coldcorn to set up a more permanent base of operations, in which I can keep an eye on the Nords. Word has been sent to the 3rd Legion in the east to stay put in Fort Dirich, so as to keep an eye on anything from the west, but remain close to Chorrol, which I believe will be the first target to the Nords.

You know I respect your opinion, and look forward to any plans or suggestions you might have regarding the latest movements, Ocato's descisions and anything in the future we could consider. Please respond with the same messenger as he knows where I will be located.

Sincerely,

General Arcturas Vallenturas

"Give me a minute." Reinhardt told the messenger, who had been waiting patiently already as he read the letter carefully. His own personal tent was bigger than the rest of the men's, but it was still pretty bare, with only the table in the centre really making it any more different than the rest of the men's tents. He sat down by the table, and put pen to paper.

Arcturas,

I'm glad that I'm not the only one who wants to take things into his own hands, Ocato, he's... indecisive. I know this borders on unloyal grounds, but I have to speak the truth. If our rivals realise that we're ready to sit back and wait, then they'll be happy to make the first move, and put us on the back foot. I've seen it happen before, albeit on a smaller scale.

The only problem is, we can't seem like we are looking for a war. It's awkward. I say you go on with what you plan, I'll stay where I am and wait for something to happen. I don't trust either force to the west or the south to be honest with you, so I'd rather be in a position to react to anything. If only we could draw someone out, make them take the first step...

My men are plenty, and well rested, if you'd like I could easily spread my forces out to protect a few other places, my scouts are already located around the border to the 'blackwood rebels'.

~Reinhardt~

There was little more he could say - they both seemed to know what was going on now. There was a war approaching, but no one wanted to start it. He didn't like it, but he couldn't do anything about it, not without being executed by Ocato at least! He passed the letter over to the messenger, who quickly set off without a word. When he did, Reinhardt remained sat in the tent, unarmoured and wearing simple clothes in complete silence.

There wasn't much to do on the brink of a war.

Ormellius Elf-Hewer, Fjorkvar Whitebeard, Bruma

Ormellius ran down the streets, paying no heed to his surroundings. He nearly stumbled a few times, barely missing passerby as he ran. As his house came into view he noticed his guards were gone. Placing his hand on the door, the smell of slowly roasting flesh wafted out slowly. Frozen with fear, his thoughts began to race. With no idea what awaited him on the other side of the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside. The body of a woman hung from the ceiling, skinned from the waist up, the briasts cut off and thrown into the fire. " Mirisa .. " A voice startled him from behind, Fjorkvar and his two guards stepped in behind him. " You monster.... I will kill you for this. " Fjorkvar realised he couldn't let him go free, finding his ring would have to be tasked to the guards. Fjorkvar thought quickly, coming up with a plan that would explain Mirisa's death and keep the Imperial quiet, " Like you killed her? " He pointed to the corpse hanging from the cieling, then to Ormellius. " Arrest him under the charge of murder. "

Ormellius began to shout, cursing Fjorkvar for what he had done. Fjorkvar simply turned and walked through the door, heading back towards the castle.


Thrud, Bruma

Thrud lead Reynald towards the castle, with neither speaking the whole way. It was clear Reynald disliked the weather, and likely tired of mead, so a warm meal and a glass of fine red wine would be welcome. The guards opened the castle gates, the two walking up the stairs and into the grand hall. The dining room was up another set of stairs and to the right through a large wooden door. " Sir, if you would follow me your meal awaits you. "


General Yngling Half-Hand, Bruma

It couldn't be. No matter how much he denied it, the fact still remained, that was Fjorkvar's ring. Meaning Fjorkvar was a Skooma addict. He hadn't noticed it earlier, possibly because he had snuck off, using it in secret. Yngling feared the Skooma, combined with Fjorkvar often stating his ideals to restore Skyrim to it's former glory by expanding its borders and eliminating anyone not of Nordic blood. He feared that soon, Fjorkvar may go crazy and begin to massacre the other Races present in the Republic. This was not a good situation. No matter what he was ordered to do Yngling would have to carry it out. Out of a combination of loyalty, and fear of what he may do to him should he refuse. For now his only choice was to wait. Wait and see what would happen next.

Reydin Talaani, the Green Road

Reydin wasn't tired, even after the eight straight hours of riding. He proceeded down the Green Road at a steady trot, and about a mie in front of him he could see Bravil. His rear end was hurting, as the saddle wasn't exactly comfortable. Not too excited to spend another minute with his ass sore, he started at a gallop toward the city.

It took him only a few minutes to traverse what would have taken him quite a while at his previous speed. As he came to the Main Gate, he was approached by three argonian guards. One hissed something to the other as they approached Reydin.

What business do you have here, Elf?" One of them asked. "The Blackwood Rebels are not exactly friends with the Kingdom of Morrowind."

"I do not serve the Kingdom of Morrowind," Reydin replied. "I am here on behalf of a different organization. If it's all right, I'd like to speak to the Count. The castle is, I believe, to the south? I'll get there myself, but if you wish to keep an eye on me, you may." Reydin took the horse through the gate and into Bravil. He trotted down the street, seeing nothing but argonians and a few khajiit. Bunch of skooma addicts, he thought as he approached the castle.

He went through the castle gate and through the door to the main hall. As he was approached by the steward, he promptly stated, "I need to speak to the Count. Is he availiable?"

Name: Lord Jazirr Rasheed of Nur'Al
Alias/Nickname: 'The Usurper'
Race: Khajiit
Gender: Male
Actual Age: 39

Height: 1,76 meters / 5'6 feet
Skin Tone: Dark orange fur with black stripes
Hair style: Shoulder-length black dreadlocks
Eye Colour: Khajiit
Significant Markings: Burned scars on his left cheek and snout
Physique: Apart from his scars, Jazirr is (by Khajiiti standards) a rather good looking man, though old age is starting to show it's signs.

Other aesthetic details: A stern and proud look adorns his face.

Equipment/Pockets/Pouch: Often seen carrying a large spellbok in a pouch.

What you are good at: Jazirr is magical prodigy and excepts at most schools. Knows a large amount of experimental magic and long-forgotten rituals. His diplomatics skills are not without notice.
What you are bad at: Not trained in use of any martial weapons. Leadership in battle. The schools of restoration is meaningless to him, so he knows very little about.

Weapons: In battle he uses an enchanted (shield magic) silver staff, but he is unarmed in other situations.
Armour: For battles he wears a mithril cuirass on top of his clothing.
Clothing: An exquisite red robe decorated with silver trimmings.
Miscellaneous: A fine gold amulet hangs around his neck.

Mentality/Mental description: Jazirrs looks doesn't betray him. He is stern and determined. Magic is his passion and he enjoys studying ancient spells and rituatls, and experimenting with magic in particular. He doesn't feel any particular anger against the other factions, but sees this an excellent opportunity to gain power, land and allies.


Short Biography: Born and raised in a small village in the eastern Elsweyr by his merchant father and his soothsayer mom. In an early age he showed signs of extraordinary magical affinity. Being somewhat proficient in the magical arts, his mom taught him to handle his abilities, when he didnt travel with his dad across the country in trading caravans. At the age of 14, rumors of Jazirrs power had reached the nearby castle of Nur'Al, where the resident mage was seeking an apprentince. At the first sight, the mage accepted Jazirr as his apprentince, seeing the potential of his power. Through the next 8 years he worked and trained under the mage.

However, one day the chaos that reigned in the country reached Nur'Al. A throng of bandits claimed Castle Nur'Al as theirs and layed siege to the castle. The castle held out for 5 days, but on the sixth day the remaining bandits had reached the throneroom. The lord, his last bodyguards and the mage engaged the bandits in the large hall. As the lord and his men had almost defeated the bandits, Jazirr realized what a magnificent opportunity he had been handed. Conjuring a massive arc of lighting, he struck down the unsuspecting lord, bodyguards and mage. The bandits fleed in fear and Jazirr named himself the new lord of Nur'Al.

Employing his father as financial advisor, the region around Castle Nur'al prospered and the small village he grew up in soon became a town. Only two years after claiming the lordship, he founded an academy for those gifted in the magical arts. Now, at the age of 39, he longs for even more power and with his army of battle mages, he feels that little can stand in his way.

Faction Sheet

Rank: Lord Archmage
Faction Name: Vanguard of Nur'Al
Troop Numbers: 400
Troop Description: Battle mages, mage adepts and trained footsoldiers.
Name of troops:

The Blazing Hand (50): Elite battlemages. Unlike Imperial Battlemages, they only wear light armor and rely solely on magic as their weapon. In battle, they accompany Jazirr.

Footmen (200): Your average trained soliders, wearing medium armor and armed with sabers, swords, axes and shields.

Children of Ember (100): Average mages and adepts, striving for showing their skill on the battlefield. Most are armed with light armour and swords.

Scryers (50): A group of scholars who help Jazirr in his magical experiments and research. They don't fight in regular battles.

-----------

Jazirr Rasheed, Bravil Outskirts

This was is nothing like the warm steppes of Elsweyr, Jazirr thought as he rode through the pouring rain. Looking around, he noticed that the four Blazing Hand members and seven Scryers weren't liking it either. They would have to get used to it however, as they had joined the Blackwood Rebels, and would probably be visiting this part of Cyrodiil more than a few times.
"My Liege, look, ahead of us" one of the Hands yelled and he turned his head forward, and surely, there it was. A grey castle wall sprung from a island of muddy rocks.

Jazirr have had some concerns about joining the Blackwood Rebels and as he watched this less-than-impressive castle, his concerns arose. The Rebels were the weakest of the warring factions. Hopefully, following the the rest of his kin to the Rebels' side wasn't a mistake. His robe was, by now, comepletely soaked.
"I tire of this damnable rain. Lets us ride swiftly, my men, and get some roof over our heads!" Jazirr proclaimed and set his stallion into trot.

Before long they had reached the city gates. The place was crawling with guardsmen and they were asked to halt and identify themselves, as soon as they came in sight.
"Lord Jazirr Rasheed of Nur'Al. Ally" Jazirr responded.
"Ah, Lord Jazirr. We've been expecting you. Come on in. We'll send word to the Lordship immediately" A guardsman responded and yelled for the gates to be opened.

OOC: Dr. Stranglelove, isn't the RP supposed to stay in Cyrodiil?

Hackdirt Massacre, Earon

Earon took a small unit out of his army to occupy Hackdirt, he was expecting little to no resistance. His unit was less than one hundred men, the rest of his army was camped in the hills, but it was only temporary. They would all soon convert Hackdirt to campgrounds. He and his men casually strolled into the town, they left their horses behind. Earon was inspecting the grounds, satisfied with how well it would suit his army well. The people of Hackdirt were scared of the outsiders, even more than they always were. The crowds whispered amongst themselves. One of the villagers stepped forward, he was the innkeeper.

"What brings you outsiders to Hackdirt?" He asked, attempting to size up to Earon.

In one motion Earon drew his Blade and cut the innkeeper across the chest. Blood flew from his chest into the air, he fell to the ground motionless. Screams of terror came from the crowd. His men were merciless just like Earon ordered them to be. The ground covered with blood, guts, and bodies. The bodies of the men, the woman, the children, the elderly, and the sick. No soul was innocent in a swords eyes. Shortly into the massacre, a militia emerged from the caverns below the village, all of them were wielding clubs.

They all shouted blunt war cries. Some shouted for the bretheren, other simply die outsiders. All of these men were rather ugly, and spoke broken english. Obviously they had been living underground. One extremely ugly one managed to sneak up behind Earon, he pounded one his back as if he was some kind of wild animal. Earon stumbled over, his back was in great pain, but fortunatly his spine was missed. Earon carved through him like his skin was paper. Will you look at that, I've made quite the mess! Regardless of the ferocious fighters the Bretheren were, they were no match for trained soldiers.

The whole Massacre lasted less than half of an hour, each member of the Bretheren was lying dead in a pool of his own blood. Earon walked over to one of his officers. "What's the report?"

"We killed everyone who fought, all of the men, and many others. About a fourth of them are prisoners as of now." The captain responded.

"And what about are numbers?"

"No casualties or major injuries. Only a few with any serious injury."

Earon smiled at that. "I expected as much."

"What do we do with the prisoners."

Earon felt his back. "Kill all of them, we have enough servants already."

The officer sighed. "Yes sir."

Name: Calvario Varro
Nickname: General Varro
Race: Imperial
Gender: male
Age: 29
Apparent Age: 32
Height: 6'2
Skin Tone: White/Tan
Hair color: Brown
Eye color: hasel
Significant Markings: Many scars all over his body but one large one all the way across his back
Physigue: He is very tall and muscular.
Aesthetic details: those of the average Imperial male.
Equipments: Always keeps a map of Cyroldiil and a smaler detailed map of his surrounding on him, always a bottle of some kind of booze.
Good at: Swordsmanship, horseback riding, tactics, persuading
Bad at: magic, blunte, axe, and retreating.
Weapons: A fine ebony shortsword encrusted with several jewls and runes, and a ebony longsword on his other side with many jewls.
Armour: A fine steel chestplte with the Anvil symbol encrusted on it, steel greaves, steel boots, chainmail greaves.
Clothng: several fine burgandy suits with fine gold trimmed boots.
Miscellaneous: serveral rings and a jade amulet (dosent wear in battle)and one of the best horses in Cyrodil that only listens to him.
Mentality: is very fair and merciful but can also occasionaly have a short temper.
Bio: He Was born into an average middle class Anvil family. He resevied basic schooling. At age 17 he decided to join the Anvil guard. After
many years and eventually made it to Captain of he Gurad. When the Legion broke up Anvil was short on generals for the war. Seeing as he was one of the best Captains
the countess decided to promote him into general.


This character was approved by WOOTZ and Faldom.

OOC: My castle is on the border of Cyrodiil, I'm not going to be fighting Elsweyr. So don't worry


IC

Maximus awoke the next moring refreshed, and relaxed. He had hopped the messanger had gotten to Valleturas quickly, and with no problem. His usual morning began, his servants assisted him with his clothes, and preparing his food while he looked over maps of Cyrodiil with his commanders.

"Sir, I believe we should move to Chorrol. It may assist any attack in the region?"

Maximus looked at the commander with a tired, and yet caring and curious look. He had just woken up, and his commanders were already demanding things of him. It was not a good thing to do on the brink of war.

"No, I have direct orders to send half the Legion to Skingrad and assist there. If Chorrol falls, Skingrad is surley the next place the Western Armies will attack. I'am ordering half the Legion to Skingrad to be a safeguard. The rest will stay here, and be in reserve until called apon for any reason. I'am not going to try and start a blatent war with the West if not need be!"

"Yes general!"

The others looked over at each other, looking, and thinking of the plan. It would be easy to send the reserve to Skingrad if need be. They would just have to go around the river, and march to Skingrad with no problem.

Maximus left the commanders to their thoughts, and went to eat. He sat at his throne thinking, if Chorrol is to fall by an attack from the West. Skingrad would be the next. They had to do something about that, but he could not think on an empty stomach. Maximus quickly ate his well served food, and then returned to the commanders who were bickering on about something.

"Commander Artin, an attack would not be a good recourse to it. We should hold firm, and wait till they attack!"

"But if we wait to long Commander Dravin, it could cause us to loose ground. We would be useless to the whole Empire. We should attack while they are still bickering!"

Maximus sat down at his seat unoticed by his commanders. He watched as the two commanders spoke in a heated tone, "Excuse me gentlemen, but what are you bickering about?"

The two turned around startled to see Maximus back at this seat. "Nothing my lord, just what our plan of action would be in the course that the west did attack Chorrol." The men continued to speak, but along with Maximus. It went on for sometime. Maximus thought that both of them were wrong. But he continued along with the commanders, and the other's.

OOC: Wow, messed up time skips here....

Can we get a general time right now because some people are in the next morning, and night and I'm so confuddled. :ahhh:




General Arcturas Vallenturas, Fort Nikel

Arcturas read the note over quickly, the messenger waiting patiently at the entrance to his tent, while Knuuk and Achille stood behind their General respectively. Arcturas passed the note back to the two as he finished reading it, letting his two Lieutenants read it over quickly as he thought. His forces had just been bolstered by ten thousand soldiers, more then a Legion, and this opened up many new possibilities, including going on an offensive...

He agreed with moving a group to Skingrad, where their presence would make anything from the west think twice before making a move, but the fact remained he still had six thousand more troops who had yet to be deployed. HIs brain said to send them north to Chorrol, where combined with the 1st Legion, they could provide a serious stopper to the Nords. But he didn't want to leave General Reinhardt out to dry by himself down south, and though he didn't think the rag-tag group of Khajiit and Argonians could be a threat, underestimation was a dangerous thing indeed.

He looked up as he noticed his two Lieutenants had finished the note, and were looking at him with patience.

"Well?" he asked. "I see you have suggestions. THey are clear on your face yet I see doubt as well." he told them, bringing up his left foot to rest on his right thigh, as he clasped his hands together. "Share you minds." he instructed politely.

The two looked at each other, seeing who was going first, and Knuuk cleared his throat and spoke. "Well General, I think the time of indecisiveness has come to an end and the time for action is upon us. Send those six thousand men north, while leaving the four thousand just outside of Skingrad, and we shall march north as well." he began explaining, his soft spoken words barely heard in the open tent. "With the 1st and 3rd Legions so close to Chorrol, and this new group coming up and numbering as much as a Legion, the Nords will think twice before doing anything."

He stopped for a second, clearing his throat again as he glanced over at Achille, who remained staring down at his feet. "However, the 3rd Legion will remain south of Chorrol so as to not put pressure to much pressure on the Nords and make them think we are threatening them. That way the 3rd can also guard from any Western approach to Chorrol, while staying out of the way." he finished, coughing silently before stepping back.

Arcturas thought hard at the Orcs words, looking over at Achille as he did. The Breton merely shook his head, indicating that he had voiced his opinion earlier that day, and had nothing new to say. The General thought for a little while longer before speaking finally.

"The newest Legion will march north and make camp outside of Weynon Priory, and will await further orders from us. Scouts and spies will probe deeper into Nordic territory, learning as much as they can about their standing forces, military movements and whatever plans they may gather." he told them, stopping to think once more.

"I think we shall wait for our enemies to make the first real move however, but we are to move at even their slightest twitch." he instructed. "Marching to far north would be treacherous indeed, as the mountains would slow us and make perfect spots for attacks in the narrow valleys." He paused again, looking at each of his Lieutenants. "In short, we are on the defensive offense, only waiting for our enemies to move a little before taking action of our own." he finished, drawing nods from the two soldiers in front of him.

"Now, I have a letter to write. You two are to prepare the camp for a six o'clock departure." he instructed and the two saluted their General and left the tent swiftly. Arcturas brought out a piece of parchment, his quill and some ink and got to work on his letter.

General Arillius,

Have the four thousand men move to Skingrad a construct a permanent camp to the north of the city. Take your remaining soldiers and begin your march north, and make camp just to the east of Weynon Priory. By the time you get there, things should be in motion, and I will have your next orders awaiting you.

Sincerely,

General Arcturas Vallenturas

It was short, but it didn't matter as there wasn't much to tell. He sealed it off and handed it to the messenger who promptly took off, grabbing a fresh horse and riding south. Arcturas sighed and exited his tent, hearing the orders being barked by his Lieutenants, and the men making some preparations for the early morning departure. He just shook his head at was to inevitably some.



Scout Astius, Hackdirt

The IMperial was too shocked to move at what he had witnessed, as the carnage began winding down in a victory for these unknown soldiers. They had moved so quickly into HAckdirt and had slaughtered the inhabitants so efficiently and with such brutality that the man could hardly move.

But he had to get back to Chorrol and alert the Count to this obviously hostile army. His legs were like jelly, and moving was difficult at first as he rose from the bushes and began making his way north, ignoring the final screams of any survivors before they were silenced. He finally got his legs back, and began sprinting all out through the thick underbrush, tripping several times in the fading light and cutting his hand open rather painfully, though he only stopped to spit on it to clean the blood off before continuing home.

He had to warn everybody of what had come, for his mind had finally registered who those men were. The West had risen, and now Chorrol had two enemies.



Messenger Faerin, Dalkey

THe Altmer finally came into view of the source of smoke, and he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. It was a fairly large town, one that clearly had armed guards, and possibly more, and the Altmer couldn't help but worry about what their intentions might be towards him.

He approached a pair of guards near the entrance to the city, and as they rose to meet him he held up his dignified hand. "Come no closer, for I am an Emissary of The Empire, and will be treated as such." he instructed in his proud voice. "Even in the presence of barbarians like yourselves." he muttered under his breath so they couldn't hear. "I wish to speak to whoever hold the people of Bruma together under a banner, as the esteemed High Chancellor Ocato has made a connection with the Nords." he said clearly, indicating the letter to his side as he awaited their reply.

( OOC: To sort out this time problem, once the Messenger is taken care of, we will go to late morning. )

Castle Branix, Elsweyr



General Maximus read the letter as he was suited up into his armor, and the rest of the Legion grouped to their postions. The messanger stood silently as Maximus continued to read it. The armor was well fitted, and almost imprenitrable to an arrow or blade. He looked around as he was finally fitted into the armor. He placed the letter on his table and looked at the messanger.

"Tell Commander Granic that he will take command of the Legion headed for Skingrad, while I assist the Empire in the north."

"Yes my lord!" the messanger said quickly leaving to find Granic. Maximus was excited, and ready for war. It was almost upon them, and he was ready to meet the enemy in battle. He walked around in his armor making sure that everything was straqed together right before he heard the sound of footsteps clattered in armor.

"General Arillius. I'am told that I will take command of the Legion headed for Skingrad?"

"Yes that is what I have ordered. Do you have a problem with my request?"

Granic looked around the room, trying not to make to much eye contact with Maximus. It was a terrible silence, it was almost untollerable.

"No sir, I was just wondering why I could not assist you up north?"

Maximus looked directly at the commander as he stepped a few feet closer to Granic.

"Because I have been ordered to assist in the north, and you are my most trustworthy commander. You will do well in Skingrad."

Granic bowed, and turned away as General Maximus placed his weapons around him. He was ready for battle, and it was soon to come. As the sound of the Legion continued in their usual pvssyr, Maximus appeared on a window balcony looking down on them. He was surprised at the number, for he had not seen all 10,000 at once. It was quite remarkable.

"Soldiers of Branix! Today you march to Skingrad. You are to make the area around Skingrad a safe, and fearing place for any hostile looking foe from the west. You will be split in half, five thousand soldiers will march to Skingrad, while I lead the other five thousand to Weynon Priory to assist General Vallenturas and the rest of the Legions to defend Chorrol."

The crowd of soldiers, and civilians alike erupted in cheer as Maximus raised his arms for them to calm down. they quickly did so, and Maximus continued, "We march to defend this Empire that has been weakened by its past foe's. Once we destroy these foe's, the Empire will be strong, and rise up like a great Phoenix from the ashes, and burn anew and even more powerful than before. May the Nine guide and show you through times of darkness and impossible odds!"

The crowd erupted once more in cheers of happyness as Maximus disapeared into the castle, and began making his final preperations. The Legion broke into their two groups, and Commander Granic began for Skingrad. Maximus waited until the last soldier was just over the ridge, and began moving out from Castle Branix. The moral was high for both groups as they marched to their postions.

Maximus road ahead of the 5,000 man Legion along with his guards and enjoyed the scenery. The fighting to come would be hard and tough, but he knew they would succeed.

( OOC: If you were close enough the messages went that quickly you wouldn't need messengers. )

OOC: Would you rather sit watching post about a Messangers travels or would you like to get things moving? I think getting things moving is better

ooc: Jerod asked me to make a cameo appearance with one of my assassin characters for him, so.. I've been told this had been run through the proper channels and OK'd, so don't hit me if it hasn't!

ic: Va'Rahkshi paced his cell, touching the walls lightly with the clawed tips of his fingers. Dark green eyes scanned every brick repeatedly for any random escape buttons or loose bricks he could use to break free with. A Bosmer across from him in an opposite cell watched him and laughed.

"Hey, assassin kitty, you're not getting out any more than I am. The hell are you doing anyway? You got a brick fetish?" The Bosmer laughed. The Khajiiti man turned his head to the side and met his eyes with a half glare. A couple of pale orange dreadlocks partly obscured his face and gave him a rather menacing look.

"You got a problem with my brick fetish?" He growled, then gave a sly grin and went back to exploring the walls. He'd ripped the scratchy shirt he was given into strips and wrapped them about his hands to make makeshift gloves, mostly out of boredom than a need for gloves. His feet padded silently on the stone as he paced, fingertips caressing the walls. The Bosmer just gave him a queer look.

"You're a strange thing, you know that?" The Bosmer laughed, smiling at the Khajiit.

"You're an obnoxious thing, you know that?" Came the gruff reply, this time without even a backward glance. Glaring, the elven man crossed his arms. After a moment, he began inspecting the Khajiit as he had his back turned, and noticed a good deal of scratch marks on his back. He stared at them for a moment and then asked with a wry grin.

"Your mate plays rough, does she?" The laughed. Va'Rahkshi looked back over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow for a moment, then gave a chuckle.

"Oh, the claw marks? Ahdanjha doesn't trim her claws much, so.. Even a simple hug often draws blood. I don't mind, though. Sweet little kitten, that one." The Khajiit replied, then gave a small smile. "But yes, you horrible pervert, she does. In fact, since you're so interested in my six life, why don't you see if they'll let you transfer to my cell? I could use a cute little prison buddy."

The Bosmer opened his mouth to say something as the Khajiit leaned against the back wall and crossed his arms over his bare chest. There was a smirk on the feline's muzzle that gave him chills. He grimaced. "That's not funny.." He muttered. Va'Rahkshi laughed.

"Who said it was a joke, m'dear? Anyway, if you're done, I'd like to get back to my bricks.."

"Y-Yeah.. Sure.. Whatever.." The elf muttered and went to sit on his bedroll and watch as the strange man touched and poked at the walls. What a freak..

Thats weird.....

Fort Ontus, GeneraL Varro

The general woke to the smell of smoke of the camp fires outside of the fort just being simmered out. He walked outside to the feel of a light breeze and the chill of morning air. It was the smell he smelled day after day of being holed up in the fort. Going back inside he then called one of his servants to bring him his breakfast. The young servant girl came back in about a minutes time with a plate full of bread, cheese, and meat. This was about the same breakfast he got everyday, he was getting tired of the same routune day after day. What he wanted to do was to go back to Anvil and live happily. He was not very excited of being on the brink of war. He had never commanded an amry this large before, nor an enemy this large. After finishing his meal he decided to check the defenses and the troops.

Walking out with one of his finest burgandy suits on and his longsword by his side he began to inspect the troops. About halfway through the inspection a small and scrawney woodelf scout still with his camoflauged robes on, approached him.

" Sir, Earon has taken Hackdirt. He wanted me to tell you there is no prisonars to deal with. "

" Damn, that fool has already started this war. Very well then you are dismissed."

He the turned to one of his captains and said " I want scouts posted all over the eastern border. If there is any sign of the Legion I want the scout to noticfy me immetdaly"

General Varro then walked back to his quaters cursing every five seconds. When he got into his quaters he sat down at his desk and poured a glass of red wine. After taking a few big ghulps of the wine he began to curse. He did not want the war to start this early.

" That fool should have gave me a notice, if the Imperials find out I bet they will be marching straight to here. Look at it, it is not even noon and I am starting to drink." he said to himself.

Somewhere in Cyrodiil

General Maximus and his Legion marched on as the cool morning sky blew on his face. He looked around, and realized that he could see the Legion as far as he could. It gave him hope, and determination. The soldiers marched in formation looking straight ahead, and the Cavalry trotted along talking to each other over the events of the Kahjiit camp. The artillary followed close behind as they trekked towards the Imperial City, keeping close and unoticed by any soldiers. Maximus looked to his scout, and began giving him short orders.

"Scout, have your men scour through the west, and keep out of sight. I wan't to know of what is happening while we are on our journey to Chorrol!"

"Yes General, I shall have my men watch the west."

The scout turned towards the oncoming Legion, and gathered his men as he told them what to do. They quickly went their own ways, and began searching the west for any sign of the Western Army. Maximus continued on as he rode in silence with the rest of the Legion following behind him. He loved the wild, and knew his life was meant for the wild. Maximus looked at one of his guards, and asked an already known question.

"Guard, how many days shall it take us to get to Chorrol?"

"3 days, and 4 nights General. But with our pace, it should not take long!"

Maximus smiled and continued looking at the trees, and the surrounding area. It was a nice day to be in the Legion.

Chief Thangbrand Stoneheim, Dalkey

The two guards simply stood before the Altmer silently. Nord's held a certain disdain for Elves in general, but none here would do anything. Chief Thangbrand might be aging, but he still knew how to discipline his troops.
Just as the guards though of the risk of harming the Altmer, the wooden gates opened slowly, and a large Nord with long, grey hair hanging over his shoulder in braids, and wearing a fur cloak and wool clothing.
" Altmer, State your name and purpose for coming to the town of Dalkey. "


Fjorkvar Whitebeard, Bruma

Fjorkvar walked deep in thought, planning his next moves. I need Skooma. The thought was in his head the whole way, he needed more, it was like a chant, over and over. He stopped as he saw three guards, speaking to them in a stern voice, " You three, send a messenger to General Garzonk immediately, sweep the empty house to make sure it is clear, send General Yngling to the house, and grab the bag under my bed. Do NOT under any circumstances, open the bag. "


( OOC: Next post will have much more going on. )

Greyland

While the hill rose gently upwards to a ridge above Leyawiin, the castle that crowned the hill rose all but softly. A tumble of bricks and mortar, the towers that rose from the mess were set out at odd angles and were scarcely tall enough to call towers. Greyland was a jumble of towers and outhouses just north of the old estate which had the same name. To the south, Leyawiin itself was near enough to provide adequate protection. To the north, the highlands rose sharply, forming an exceptional natural barrier. West and north-west, palisades and ditches watched Greyland's weakest sides.

Squat Greyland was all of a hurry, late that morning. Vylarr walked hurriedly across the rough flagstones of Greyland's inner court. Men were drilling: to one side, green boys yet to become Blackcloaks were sparring with blunt steel, firing their arrows into small round targets, or carrying heavy supplies to the wagons that were waiting near the gate arch. The mottled sunshine danced across the court, diminished by the overcast sky and the thick, blunt towers that fenced off the court. There was a loud whinny from the gate and the clack of iron-shod hooves across the flagstones.

Vylarr had seen men from all walks of life. Once upon a time, in his privileged household, Vylarr had met lords and ladies, butlers and serving wenches, knights and priests, fisherfolk and shepherds, serfs and thralls... It seemed to him that his army, the Blackcloaks, were much like that. Some were once green boys who made stupid decisions and ended up in the Blackcloaks. Others were high born... second-sons, bastards and outcasts. These had received training, bought with them castle-forged steel, horses and training. Some were knights who betrayed their lords, only to meet the fist of justice and were cast out. But most were prisoners: rapists, murderers, pedophiles, thieves, arsonists, vandals. Nobody wanted them, especially the high lords, and Vylarr took them. They swore oaths. They received a home, training, brothers. Vylarr offered them what they could get no where else. And in return, he had an army.

Khubol pulled back on the reins and his snow-white horse stopped just in front of Vylarr. The commander of the Blackcloaks looked up - Vylarr was certainly not a lord, and he was not a knight either. He had pledged no vows. There were no oaths of good manner, no promises of loyalty or fealty. All Vylarr knew was that the 600 who lived directly under him at Greyland would kill when he told them to. All Vylarr knew was that the sun rose in the east and winter was coming. More hooves echoed across the court.

Not many men would look at Vylarr, it was true. There was something about his disfigured face and dark eyes. Women would look down, children would cry. Men would tremble. He was not imposing, but his very face caused fear and unmanned the bold. With one quick movement, he swished his hair over his shoulder. "What news, Khubol?" Behind the mounted Orc, another two men pulled up. A short, bold-looking Breton sat a black horse in black mail & brigantine. A flanged mace and a roundshield were slung across his saddle and a black helm too. The other might have been a Breton too, but if so, he was tall as Bretons came. He was slight though, with wiry arms and legs like sinew. He seemed like he would be a stronger man in better times. His cheeks were hollow, his dark eyes sunken and his chin was prickly. Vylarr cast his eyes across the courtyard. Too few... To tell the truth, Khubol and the others were back too soon... sooner than Vylarr would have liked.

"What news from the despot, Khubol?" In the southern parts, the despot was not a tyrant or a mistreating king. No, he was just the leader of the Blackwood Rebels. The Blackcloaks were part of the rebel cause and Ja'Rabi at Leyawiin was their leader. Even Vylarr acknowledged it. All the chivalry of the south rode with Ja'Rabi.

The bearded Orc idly svcked at his moustache. "Orders from the top, Sir Vy-"

"I am no knight with lies and oaths. Don't call me such. Continue."

"Apologies, Lord Commander. Orders from the despot are that we are to move north immediately. Further orders will be sent to Fort Nom-, Fort Goutfang. More troops will await us there... levies, Renrijra Krin, lordly forces, I know not."

Vylarr nodded. "Conwys," he looked at the bold-looking Breton, "send out word that I want the men in a column ready to march before three hours past noon. Things have been tense. These men drill everyday of their lives. Its about time we mobilized." Taking a few steps along, he reached up and touched the other rider's horse gently. "Qhorin... I want fifty outriders at the head of our column, led by you. Khubal, make sure the wains are at full compliment and send your fastest riders to the stables outside Leyawiin if we are short of horse. Godspeed."