Group One


Ja'Rikki had much to think about. She was in Morrowind somewhere, her memories were broken, confusing and sometimes conflicting, when she could remember anything in the first place. The Khajiit stayed absorbed in her thoughts, automatically following Sinclaire and Vyktoria through the streets. She nearly bumped into Sinclaire when they stopped.

Scanning the area, Ja'Ri attempted to make sense of the area around her. When they'd arrived, a youthful Dunmeri woman stood in a green robe looking horrified that Vyktoria existed. Rikki found it difficult to blame her, though the severity of her reaction puzzled the cat. She fought to calm her buzzing mind enough to sort out something to ask that would clarify things, but before she could the situation changed. More people started arriving, the elderly human with its shirt off began to speak, people introduced themselves, started asking questions, bickering with each other.

Rikki's half-conjured questions failed her and dissipated back into the ether as she struggled to keep up.

Before long, Rikki knew she'd have to say something, but in the meantime she opted for brushing mud off her leathers and wringing out her tail. She really wanted to get a bath and get dry again, but had no idea where to go for that. She brushed Sinclaire's wrist and whispered into his ear.

"What's.." she was going to ask what was going on, but she realized she'd mostly pieced it together, "Do you know where I could get a bath after this? I.. I feel horrid."

Larry Wall

Balmora - Caius' Hidden Hideout Tree

Larry had a goose. Not a literal goose but a proverbial one. It was something his father used to tell him; No one likes geese son, he'd say, they're loud, with ugly feathers and tough meat to boot - Their eggs are nice but no one's buying them. So what do you do? You cut your losses and sack the goose. Let me put it this way, he'd reason, hoping to get into ten year old Larry, When a man has a problem he can't get out of without taking a loss, he's got a goose - It's not a big deal, you just have to see it before you end up having five.

Larry definitely had a goose. He'd picked a fight with a well armed, poorly mannered and very highly educated mage and he knew for a fact that he wasn't as cruel or callous as to win the argument. It put him in a sour mood which wasn't helped by the effects of his latest dose of moon sugar failing him. "The ABC for barbarians? I'll be sure to borrow your copy." Was all his brain could manage and he even said it as if he was already defeated, "I might not have read the, apparently completely factual and unbiased account of all of Morrowinds history - And I probably wont - but isn't it reasonable to do our own research? For all we know it could've spread via some recently opened dwemer mine."

He turned his attention back to Caius, "I was going to mention this afterwards sir but, well," he turned back to the mage, "I've been informed by my contacts within the local temple that they're drafting a group of faithfuls to, what sounds like an assault into Red Mountain itself." He decided to wean himself out of his sticky situation not by apologizing but by reasoning, his years of learning to manipulate and pull conversations to where he wanted them to go was usually put to the test but very rarely in such a public occasion, "Why not leave the butchering to them and let us do the actual sensible work? You're obviously clever, surely you've heard the phrase, assumption is the mother of all failures?"

(Group One)

An informant, then, Vyktoria thought, studying the young Blade's appearance as he prattled on. Perhaps Cosades' connection to the criminal element here in Vvardenfell? Divines know the boy certainly has the look for it; he could suddenly appear in the skooma houses of Bravil tomorrow, and I don't think anybody would so much as look twice. If so, he may have access to some of the island's smuggling rings. That could be very useful, provided he can be brought to heel. Such thoughts, however, could wait for a more opportune moment.

Once the lad had finished his pouting, Vyktoria turned back towards Caius without so much as a word. 'My dear spymaster,' she said, smiling. 'Your clown's scathing wit aside, I did not mean to suggest that we blindly adhere to Jeanette's writings. Alas, in truth the girl is a bit of a scatterbrain, and without citing her sources, we have no way of knowing how much she has omitted from her account. And it isn't as though she's provided us with a list of instructions on how to counter the Blight.

'I merely thought it prudent to equip ourselves with at least a remedial knowledge of the island's history and lore.' She cast a sideways glance back at the young Blades agent. 'We are representatives of the Empire, after all, and so it won't do for one or more of us to stumble ignorant through the streets, eyes wide like that of a mindless ox.' Then she turned her full attention back to the elder Blade. 'Apologies, if I've caused your subordinates to strain themselves unduly. I'm used to consulting with my fellow mages, you understand, men and women of singular intelligence and cunning, and familiar with the fundamentals of academic research. However, I am nothing if not adaptable.'

What a tit... Alan thought and glanced over at the Imperial woman who'd picked a fight with Larry. Had this been back in Alan's town, the woman would probably been hit in the face already. Not because she was wrong, but she wasn't exactly a diplomat... She had all the traits of being some learned, high born Imperial, who'd probably never worked a day in her life. But then again, maybe she could do spells. Alan had quite the respect for magic, being unable to perform any himself. It was, in truth, magical to him.

Alan sat down on a nearby crate to relax while the rest of them finished their bickering. He'd find out what he needed along the way, like he always did. He didn't know much about magic cults, but he knew about a few diseases; nothing good. His lot here would probably be tracking people and animals, and he'd be of use if they ended up in a fight. Which we probably would sooner or later he thought, as he looked from Larry to the Imperial woman.

OOC: Greetings Fellow Rpers. I am a bit behind with everything, I have my next few posts planned but I'll be in Molag Mar shortly.

Name: https://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/10644464_10153790140785040_4110425575203620353_n.jpg?oh=87c8a2fb6a55324250cde47118dead41&oe=57107788 (Inz – larl – oo – rith) (Second name not given)
Race: Dunmer
Gender: Female
Age: (Not specified)

Height and Build: Tall for a Dunmer. Awkward, bony and knobbly.
Home/Origin: Beneath Tormented Spire inhttps://scontent-lhr3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xta1/t31.0-8/12401964_10153800767650040_8743446037412682755_o.jpg (Morrowind mainland)

In Five Words: Unafraid, Erractic, Unconventional, Magical, Confident.

Group 2

Inzlaalurith ran for her life the Soul Gem clutched in her hand. She didn’t even throw herself to the ground for safety as the fiery explosion triggered behind her. An inhuman screech pierced her ears but the sounds of clattering armour told her their pursuer was not yet dead.

As she pelted over the barren land, alongside her, Blaze twirled midair and threw two well timed fireballs at their adversary. Never had Inzlaalurith felt so alive, her blood pulsed with something that could have been adrenalin, could have been magic, she wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Her mouth twisted into a smile not bothering to cover up almost manic laughter.


It wouldn’t follow her too far, she’d learnt that before. Dremora guards were bound to their shrines, they could guard but could not leave the vicinity. She slowed to a jog before looking back at the craggy shapes of Almurbalarammi silhouetted against the horizon. Feeling confident that the Dremora had been unable to follow her she allowed herself to draw in a few deep breaths; the chill morning air cool and refreshing in her lungs.


Blaze as ever hovered about a hands width above the ground looking stoic.


“Is this like stealing from your family?” Inzlaalurith asked

“No mistress. Just because they are Daedra that does not make them family.”


She held the soul gem up to the light and sighed a smile, dawn had just broken which meant it was now the perfect time to sleep. She didn’t sleep at night if it could be helped, anything could creep up on her. If something was going to surprise her she’d rather it was in broad day light. Blaze usually woke her anyhow.


Inzlaalurith traced her steps back to where she’d left her pack. Just between a gathering of three rocks. It was invisible so she had to search the air with her hand until she felt the familiar cold leather, at which her touch dispelled the invisibility.


Leaning back on a rock facing away from the trail she scrabbled around with the straps trying to bury the gem before pulling out her bed roll. The netch leather was extremely worn down, barely holding together. In all honesty it was being held by threads both literal and magical.
I’m going to have to get a new pack made.... She sighed to herself letting her head lean back to look at the sky. Blaze hovered, unusually more still than normal but still burning as bright. She felt a brief pang of genuine sadness; she and that pack had been to a lot of places together. It held all of her victories and all of her loses.

“Bah! It’s just meaningless sentiment....” She said aloud.

If Blaze had had human eyes, they would have rolled.


She unrolled her bed and then marked a ring around it about 10 metres in all directions before she began casting her precautionary fire runes. When all the runes lay glinting at her on the ground she finally sat on the bedroll and allowed herself to pay attention to her aches an exhaustion.


“I have your back mistress.” Blaze assured her, drifting along the inside edge of her fire rune ring.

“I don’t need you to have my back Blaze, the ground is taking care of that. I need to you to watch the front.”

Blaze paused.

“But thank you. Neither of us really chose this path... or this company.”

“I must remind myself that this was not your choice either mistress.”


Inzlaalurith lay back feeling the softness of her bed offset with the firmness of the ground beneath. She lay with her eyes open momentarily listening to the thoughts that crept up on her. It wasn’t just that she was slightly sad about her pack needing to be replaced, it was that in order to have one made she’d have to go to a civilized town. Which in turn meant spending a significant amount of time in the company of other people.
Molag Mar is closest.... but I’ll deal with that later... She thought as she pulled the blanket over herself and closed her eyes.

okay moving this along, otherwise Group 1 will be ahead, and we can't let those N'wahs win.

Group 2

The group was eerily silent, as if a mass silence spell had been cast upon the room.. It went on for many minutes until a loud cough was heard from the Temple Master.

"Yes, yes whatever is necessary to cleanse Molag Mal of this blighted rat problem and return the faithful to ease that this place is protected by ALMSIVI once more.. Begin Immediately, and when we have completed in our task, we may move to other matters at hand" With that the Temple Master stood up along with the Ordinators, before he motioned to a novice to open the door as Acoltyes came in with scrolls and papers. "This is all of the information that we have gathered on the matters of the Blight and Corpus.. Read it as you will, this briefing room shall only be accessed by this.. party of people. Three Bless You" and with that he exited through the now open door, the meeting adjourned.

Turning to face the others in the group Verlon cleared his throat "As Avarys and myself are standing members of the temple in our orders, the lead shall be ours. However, any information or ideas that any of you have to share to aid us in our endeavours to returning Molag Mar and the surrounding region into the peaceful and faithful place as it once was then feel free to speak up. But do not assume to tell me how to do my job once i begin my task, if the Three will it then I am their servant and do what they ask of me." With that said Verlon glanced at his fellow Ordinator hoping that he would be up to the task that had been laid out before them.

This may be a storm waiting to happen.. but by ALMSIVI's will they all have the skills required for the tasks that we will need to handle.. not all will remain when this task is completed.. but Molag Mar may only be the start to our problems..

Group 2

"That is Understandable," his new superior replied, "the Ordinators are to protect the faithful, and the faithful are the innocents in this mess." Avarys had seen his hand, but not replied in kind, which irked Gerald some. Maybe Ordinators just had a thing about shaking hands with any not in their order? Regardless, it's clear I have no friends in this group. Maybe the Nord witch, but certainly not the Ordinators. He let his hand fall to his side with disappointment and turned to the Temple Master when he spoke once more, breaking the silence created by an off-color joke made by the Offended One that Gerald chose, like the others apparently, to ignore.

The Master encouraged them to take immediate action against the Blight infestation by delving into the sewers. It would seem Gerald's sentiments had struck a cord; this made him smile. He moved to the table and picked up one of the pieces of parchment provided by the acolytes. He read it, then moved to another piece. Then another. Then he set it down and sighed. Basically, don't get bit, and keep clean. "This is more you two's area," Gerald motioned to Telvanni and the witch. "I just need to know how to avoid catching it."

Then the big bad Offended One declared himself and Avarys as the leads in the group, which annoyed Gerald somewhat despite the sensibility of the claim. It was more an emotional response than a reasonable one. While both of them were cold and aloof, Avarys was at least cordial about it, so Gerald felt answering to him was more tolerable; hence he pledged his arms to Avarys' cause. I hope I did not make a grave mistake in doing that.

"Now that you actually want my opinions, ironically, I have few left to give relevant to the situation, sera," Gerald proclaimed. "All I can say now is I already smell like a decaying animal, so I have little problem getting into those sewers and slaying some pests immediately. If you want to search for a cultist above the streets, go ahead, but I need a map of the city so I can find these sewer entry points and do what I do best." Gerald rummaged through the papers, and clicked his tongue. "Imagine that, all this information and no map." He went to the open door, leaned outside and called out for a map of the city. Then Gerald turned to the others.


"Anyone wanting to help in the sewers, meet me outside the temple ready to go. It's time for action." With that declaration, Gerald left the room. Anyone who followed would discover him minutes later sitting on the ground, surveying a map of Molag Mar and deciding which entrances to clear first.

Eyra shook her head at the Inquisitor's declaration that the Ordinators were in charge and nobody was to tell him how to do his job.
But clearly he will have no trouble telling us how to do ours, she thought. What a fine group we make; Two Ordinators, a Redoran, a Telvanni, an Imperial fighter and a Nord woman. Different faiths, different motives...

her thoughts were interrupted when the Imperial dashed out of the meeting hall, shouting for a map.
... and too much potential for male power struggles. she added with a sigh.


Eyra agreed with Gerald; it was time for action. But as much as she approved of his initiative and apparent common sense, following his lead would only serve to alienate the Dunmeri. The last thing they needed was a complete division in a group that had only just been thrown together.


"Nice of him to volunteer to handle the planning," she said instead. "So eager to get going, after the long journeys you all had. Well, members of the fighter's guild are known for their endurance."


Grabbing a quill and an empty sheet of paper, she swiftly wrote down a list of items before waving over one of the acolytes.


"Make sure everything on this list finds its way into this room by sundown. Also, the ash storm has subsided, so send the novices to gather sacks of ash district the alchemists to crystallize. The Temple will also need to send scouts to make sure every Scrib within ten miles of the town is killed on sight and brought back here. Scrib jelly mashed with ash salts creates a paste that is probably the most disgusting thing anyone has ever tasted. It is also the only thing that has proved successful in treating all forms of blight. If we want to combat it, we need to stock up."


"As you say, out... ehm.. Eyra... Sera."


Eyra suppressed a grin at the acolyte's struggle to find a proper title to address her. Outlander or not, they would have to treat her with at least a modicum of respect now. There was a bright side to everything.

Group I
Caius Cosades



Caius sat patiently as he absorbed everyone's conversations and questions, his expression statue-like.



Vyktoria opened the session with scathing sarcasm. Caius stared at her while she spoke, turning to Larry as he offered his rebuttal and back and forth. He sighed silently, watching one of his agents squabble with an Imperial Battlemage. Surely, if this was a harbinger of things to come, Caius had his work cut out for him. In the middle of the affair, the young Dunmer woman stepped close to him and offered an actual question.



"Pardon me, sir, but why us?" Nevena asked gently, "I gather that you think us capable and skilled, but why outlanders? Why not seek out loyal native Dunmer operatives, who are obviously better placed?"



"An excellent point to raise, my girl," Caius replied, glad for something he could answer without furthering the infighting. He raised his voice so he could be sure to be heard.



"The reason I have chosen to assemble this team instead of a more local force is a.. matter of security. I've had reports of local Dunmer acting as unwitting sleeper agents for the enemy. They seem to be more.. malleable of mind. I do not know the reason, but have erred on the side of caution.


"There is also the matter to consider that native Dunmer may be less.. open of mind than outlanders like yourselves. I believed it wise to gather individuals less likely to allow superstition and myth to cloud their judgement."


Caius turned to Larry and made a indicative gesture towards him.


"Thank you, Larry. You've brought me to my next point. While I felt it necessary to gather a more impartial group for the task, the native Temple has put out a call to action as well. They've called for Temple faithful and willing mercenaries to aid them in a similar task. While our goals may differ, we work towards a similar end. I cannot guarantee cooperation should you encounter this group in your travels, however, so exercise caution."



Turning back to Vyktoria and Larry, Caius narrowed his eyes slightly. They had continued to bicker while he'd been talking. He'd had quite enough.


"I had expected better behavior from one of the esteemed Imperial Battlemagi. The focus of a group lies in working together. One should endeavor not to make enemies of comrades one has barely met," his eyes flicked to Larry, "You as well. Sarcasm and pointless antagonism is unbecoming of your stations."



The spymaster folded his hands before him.


"Now, if we may get down to business, I have a starting task for you. There is a man stationed at the Fighter's Guild here in town named Hasphat Antabolis, an ally and a friend of mine. I have requested from him information pertaining to the Sixth House and surrounding Nerevarine prophecies. However, he is not a man to offer things free of charge; he has asked a favor in return.



"I would do this myself, but I have pressing matters in Balmora to attend to so I would ask you to fulfill this task in my stead, then report back to me with the information he has promised. He has requested the retrieval of a Dwemer artifact from a nearby ruin, a small bauble known as a 'puzzle box.'"



Caius gestured to Eyl'Yti before addressing him.



"I've heard tell of your knowledge of the lands of Vvardenfell, Khajiit. The ruin containing this artifact is known as Arkngthand and lies southeast of town. You will see a Dwemeri bridge over a foyada. The ruin will be nearby on the other side. Be cautious as this route is not patrolled regularly. I do not know what you may encounter on the way. Surely, you can escort the others here?"

Suddenly excruciating pain exploded in her left shoulder.


Inzlaalurith’s eyes snapped open and in an instant she saw she was pinned to the floor by sword-point. Her gaze travelled along the blade up into a grinning evil mouth and glowing red dremora eyes. How had he got past the runes? Why hadn’t Blaze woken her? Without meaning to her eyes darted to the flaming elemental who looked caught between emotions.


She stopped the scream in her throat as he put extra pressure on the sword, but tears of pain appeared in her eyes betraying her weakness.


“You will hand over the gem mortal.” His smile stretched wider.


Turning inwards she tried to think how to get out of this situation. The best outcome would be a severe wound, the worst outcome would be a severe wound, humiliation and the loss of her arm. He might kill her but she was not afraid of death. She had walked the edge too many times and laughed into the void of Sithis.


“I can’t get it if you wont let me up.” She managed to say through gritted teeth, her arm felt like it was on fire.

“Tell me where it is, I will get it myself so I can return it.”


Blaze stared significantly at her. She quickly discerned the meaning before staring directly into the depths of those hateful red eyes.


“But you’re not going to return it are you. You plan to keep it and trade it for favour with another clan. What’s in the soul gem is valuable, valuable enough for a lowly dremora such as yourself to consider double crossing a Daedric Prince.”

A flicker of something flashed across his face but was quickly masked and he twisted the sword.


She couldn’t contain this scream. It escaped her mouth in a pure cry of agony. Mental panic set in but she knew this feeling.... She knew it too well.


As sharp as the pain had been she suddenly dropped outside herself. It was as if she were a third person viewing herself from a distance. She could feel Blaze more keenly now, a knotted tangle being pulled in every direction.


The elf grabbed the hilt of the blade with one hand oblivious to how it cut into her palms and pulled it free enough for her to stand up. The dremora stepped back, momentarily stunned by this turn of events. As the elf stood the weight of the sword caused it to fall to the ground and a thick pool of blood appeared through her clothes.


As the dremora gathered himself and went to retrieve his sword Blaze threw a colossal fireball at his head. It did little damage but the brightness of it and the shock gave the elf a brief advantage. The elf pushed the dremora as hard as she could in the chest, a shockwave of force reverberated through his armour as he staggered backwards. Then they turned and ran.

Get the pack. Get the pack. Get the pack. Get the pack. A voice in her head chanted.


Grabbing the pack with her good hand she ran as fast as she could, she made a smooth hand gesture of Silence and flung it over her shoulder, as she did her foot caught on something and she fell to her knees. There was so much blood but she felt so outside herself that she did not connect the blood to her wound. She felt no pain but she knew she was beaten.


The unmistakable sound of metal on grass getting louder told her the dremora would catch up to her any second. Blaze twirled around it in fast graceful movements hurling fireball after fireball at it. Sadly Blaze couldn’t even be called a distraction; it was more of a hindrance.


She tried to push herself up from the ground but something solid slammed into her back.

...... Pinned again....

If she turned over she’d see the fury in his eyes and she’d be transported back to that place.

“Kill me then!” She screamed. “You win, you have me!”

The dremora pressed into her back harder, something in her back cracked. The elf lay anticipating the end but then the ground started to shake. It began as a low rumble deep beneath the ground...


.....Red Mountain.....


It wasn’t enough to knock anyone off their feet but it was just enough to stun. She twisted her head round and saw some sort of magical disturbance open directly above them. Blue mist trickled out alongside cracks of what appeared to be black lightning. The dremora suddenly seemed small, like a hound with its tail between its legs, he took a few steps back, releasing the elf.


A voice erupted from the portal.

“Do not kill this one! This one amuses me.” The voice purred

“The mortal removed objects from the shrine-“

“And do not think you can double cross me Qlyhmelag.” The voice turned into a snarl and what could only be described as a giant hand appeared. It reached down and pulled the dremora by the ankles back through the portal. Infuriated screams filled the air as the portal closed with a thunder clap leaving nothing but still afternoon air.


The elf took a deep breath in and as she released it a rushing sensation overcame her and Inzlaalurith fell back into her body. She hurt all over. It was horrible. Wave after wave of pain hit her like the tide. Her shoulder throbbed and her entire ribcage felt battered, a large bruise would probably appear on her back tomorrow. She turned her hand over and saw deep gashes through her palm and fingers.


Now she had no choice but to find civilization. She would not be able to heal this well in the wilderness of Vvardenfel.

Group 1

Eyl’Yti listens carefully as Caius explains the cause they are gathered for. All the while Eyl’Yti wonders how he has managed to pull together such a motley crew; a group he knows would likely kill each other if had they met on different grounds. He notices that two in particular are already at each other’s throats. It means little to Eyl’Yti; he is only here under a vague promise to help his own cause. This makes him wonder what has been promised to each of these strangers to rope them into this situation.

Before he can ask Caius volunteers Eyl’Yti to guide the group to their destination. He dislikes being ordered around, it reminds him too much of working under a master. To Eyl’Yti his freedom is paramount, however this imperial is clearly making an effort to disguise his order as a request; Eyl’Yti can appreciate that at least.

“It knows the place you speak of,’ Eyl’Yti phrases with a modicum of respect, ‘but it has seen no incentive to be a part of this… expedition.” His ears point backwards. Eyl’Yti breathes heavily as he thinks on the matter. Eventually he spits, “what do we get in return for running these errands?”

Group 1

“I have seen this place; I know where the bridge is!” Yuu’Ko pipes up and protests, “why ask that one?”

She huffs, folds her arms and tries to stand tall, “he ran off and left me and then he dragged me here,” she waves and states, “Yuu’Ko thinks it is better to put trust into someone you know will have your back.”

She pats down the fur on her head and continues, ‘this one here knows where it is we need to go and this one isn’t asking for rewards more than a good meal and a place to rest.”

Yuu’Ko slides a smirking glance to Eyl’Yti and with her thumb extended jests, “and you would have him as your leader?”

Larry Wall - Balmora

Larry frowned as Caius scorned him, he was right ofcourse - Larry should've shut up and kept in line. He could take one thing away from the incident though - Larry knew the woman was an imperial battlemage and while that didn't tell him much, Larry had managed to keep his rank secret. He assumed that when Caius didn't ask Larry to lead the group to the Dwemer mine it was a form of punishment, Larry had been living in Vvardenfell for 8 years. Larry had traveled the vast majority of the island doing errands for Caius and while he wouldn't consider himself well versed on the location of unique points of interest, he certainly knew the location of the all famous Balmora Dwemer Mine.

He rolled his eyes as the Khajiit asked what was in it for him, what he was going to gain from saving millions of lives - His opinion of the Khajiit only fell further when the other one, a female who seemed to know the Khajiit, spoke of past experiences. Urgh, Khajiits, always in it for themselves. He turned to Alan and gave the man a nudge, "Ever been to a Dwemer mine before lumberjack?" Larry smiled and looked towards the other Khajiits, "They're quite unique."

Alan had listened as Caius told of their task, a trivial one for this group of people it seemed. Larry spoke, and Alan fixed his eyes on the Imperial. "Only from afar. The insides I've only seen on drawings. To be quite honest I don't do too well in caves and ruins; I like seeing the sky." he said, and looked up at the sky with a remote look on his face. "I heard some say you can hear the ghosts of the dwemer still toiling away in the deep; their clinks and clanks of gears quite audible"

His eyes returned to the group and stopped at Larry. "I bet we'll have no problem facing whatever problems we might find on our way. This group looks like it could take on a herd of enraged Kwama warriors, so a couple of cliff racers on our way to this ruin will be no problem." he said, then suddenly with a grin, "I bet this fellow over at the fighters guild is just too lazy to go there on his own. You know how these big fighters are, all training and sparring, but when you really need them they've strained a muscle or something"

Atleast if we can stop bickering about who's going to be leader, and start planning how to get there

Group One
Caius Cosades

“It knows the place you speak of, but it has seen no incentive to be a part of this... expedition,” Eyl’Yti lowered his ears, then spat, "What do we get in return for running these errands?”

“I have seen this place; I know where the bridge is!” Yuu’Ko interjected, "Why ask that one?”

The tan Khajiit huffed and folded her arms over her chest and straightened up.

“He ran off and left me and then he dragged me here,” she gestured toward the other, “Yuu’Ko thinks it is better to put trust into someone you know will have your back."

Smoothing her head fur, Yuu'Ko went on.

"This one here knows where it is we need to go and this one isn’t asking for rewards more than a good meal and a place to rest,” she threw a smirk and a thumb in Eyl'Yti's direction, “..and you would have him as your leader?”


Caius chuckled.


"Perhaps you have misunderstood me, miss. I have not bestowed any kind of position. That is for you to settle among yourselves. I merely suggested he provide navigational guidance."

Steepling his fingers, he set gaze upon Eyl'Yti.


"As I see that unlike your companion the satisfaction of saving thousands from the grave is insufficient for you, I do have something to offer as compensation," a nearly morbid smile tugged his lips, "It is my understanding that you've got a bit of a.. missing person case you've been attending to. I have at my disposal the finest and largest intelligence network in the Empire. I'm certain we can work something out."

_______

Group One
Ja'Rikki

Ja'Rikki wrung her tail in her hands still. She'd almost completely dried it this way. This was so far above her.

'I don't belong here. I don't know where I belong, but.. spy networks, civil unrest, unnatural plagues, murder and cults? I. Do not. Belong here.'

Rikki paid peripheral attention to Caius and the others, absorbing what they were saying while simultaneously lost in her thoughts. After a while, however, a few words drifted in and stuck to her: Dwemer, Puzzle Box, Arkngthand.

"Oh! Arkngthand? Dwemeri deep-mining facility in Vvardenfell, right? Of course, not to be confused with Arkngthamz up in Skyrim, one possible resting place of the Aetherium For--"


Rikki clasped her hands over her mouth. What had just happened?

"Er.. I, uh. I read a couple books a while back," Rikki squeaked, lying through her teeth.

'Where the hell did that come from? How do I know that? Oh, Gods, they're going to probably ask me questions. Questions are bad. Craaaaap.'

Group One

Nevena nodded to herself as Caius Cosades laid out their mission. Though the confidence some in their group displayed at their ability to deal with dwemer was frightening -- even before the curse, she had been wary of dwemer. Their machines' immunity to magic made their study ... troubling, to say the least, not that that had stopped her. Nevena had a scholar's mad enthusiasm -- even when she knew she was being foolish, she couldn't help but be drawn into their mystery.

Even now, the idea of it was drawing her in ... the dwemer, the disappearance of the dwarves ... The ruins in Morrowind were far more numerous than in Cyrodiil and Skyrim, and said to be largely unexplored. To think that she might get the chance to see the ruins up close, perhaps even uncover some of their lost history and see their machine-craft up close -- it was exciting, to say the least.

'Oh! Arkngthand?' It was a new voice to Nevena -- a young, bedraggled Khajiit, soaked in what looked like river silt. 'Dwemeri deep-mining facility in Vvardenfell, right?' Of course, not to be confused with Arkngthamz up in Skyrim, one possible resting place of the Aetherium For--' She slapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes going wide and panicked. 'Er.. I, uh. I read a couple books a while back,' she squeaked.

Nevena wasn't sure what was happening here, but the confusion and fear in the khajiit's eyes struck Nevena somewhere deep in her gut. She moved to the khajiit's side, wishing she had some way of giving the woman some comfort, or even a spare set of robes to offer. 'It's a relief to meet another scholar,' she said awkwardly. 'I ... uh ...' words failed her and she fell silent, knowing that she was probably just making the other woman uncomfortable.

Zethan nodded, having little problem with the two ordinators in charge. He walked to the table where the acolytes had placed their knowledge of the diseases and quickly eyed the papers, swapping from one to another. Zethan had the rare ability to read two pages at once and remember every word. It was most useful for mages and scholars as it had proven in his time spent studying in Tel Fyr. His teacher had more than once compared his affinity for learning to Hermaeus Mora. Such comparisons often lead to stories of his time in Apocrypha hunting for peculiar books of forbidden knowledge.

Zethan watched as Gerald enthusiastically ran out of the room. It was very amusing to him. 'Such is the way for those with a shorter life span. Eager for start and just as eager to get to the finish.' Zethan Said to the Nord woman in an amused tone. 'No offence ment, ofcourse.' He added a moment later, hoping not to cause any bad feelings. Turning back to what he was reading, Zethan found himself remembering one of the experiments in the corprusarium for a cure.

'If we had one corprus ridded corpse and a vampire's corpse we might be able to make something that could lessen the symptoms. Corprus slime and crystallized vampire blood with ash to be exact.' He suggested.

In their experiments they had managed to atleast lengthen subjects average lifespan by a few days as well as lucidify the less far in ones. 'It seems the daedric magic in the blood and ash fights the infection itself. Another concoction we found to help was Jarrin root and nightshade mixed in Skooma.' Zethan went on and seemed to be thinking out loud rather than to the others.

'The poisons destroy the tissue and the skooma helps with the pain and deliriousness.'

Caius made a feeble attempt at chastising her during his rebuttal, as if he thought her a willful child he could shame into submission. But Vyktoria merely smiled at the spymaster, her pale eyes narrowed. She had been right, after all; the Blades hadn't gathered up a seemingly random group of people to aimlessly question the natives about their culture and history. Instead, their investigation was focused on the so-called "Sixth House" and on prophecies concerning something called the "Nerevarine." Finally, the truth of the thing. Perhaps now we can begin making some progress.

She paid little mind to the black-haired Khajiit or his companion; Caius made it explicitly clear he had no intention of assigning operational command to anybody in the group, which seemed an amateurish blunder to her. Though, considering the number of civilians in their group, to whom would he give command? So far as she could tell, she and the Clown were the only two Imperial agents present, and she certainly wasn't going to take orders from some ignorant skooma addict barely half her age. Just as she was making ready to suggest they get moving, she heard the Khajiit girl, Ja'Rikki, pipe in behind her, making mention of Dwemer ruins and something related to Aetherium. An Aetherium...forge? No, that can't be right. Turning around, she saw the Dunmer girl at the Khajiit's side, making some mention of being a fellow scholar before trailing off.

'Well,' Vyktoria said, stepping towards the pair with a faint smile on her face. 'It seems I may not be damned to toil exclusively in the presence of bunglers and fools after all. I'm pleased to see your wit is at least partially intact, Miss Ja'Rikki.'

She turned her attention now to the Dunmer: the not-Ashlander and apparently, a scholar of some sort as well. I can almost place you, girl. But where? 'It occurs to me that you and I have not been properly introduced,' she said, and her eyes softened somewhat. 'My name is Vyktoria, as I'm certain you already know.'

Eyl’Yti does not rise to defend himself when Yuu’Ko starts mouthing off. Instead he allows the woman to speak freely. He realises that Yuu’Ko has already been quieted by his hand several times.

“That is good to hear,” Eyl’Yti responds, he appreciates the delicacy Caius shows given the circumstances. However the subtle snipe about saving the world does not go unnoticed and strikes a nerve. “It does not concern itself with all this talk of elven disease or prophecy. This one has been saving lives for years now, it just wanted to know whether your agent was leading this one astray with its promises. This one can now see it is worthwhile.”

Eyl’Yti pauses a moment and allows the others time to talk amongst themselves.

Then Ja’Rikki starts rambling about the dwemer. Clearly this khajiit has knowledge on this subject even if she appears confused by the words spilling from her mouth. Eyl’Yti suddenly remembers something.

“This Dwemer Ruin. This one has been there before, but it could not get inside. There is a large metal seal covering the entrance and this one could not see any obvious mechanism to open it. Perhaps that one can help as it seems to have knowledge of the place.” He gestures toward Ja’Rikki and smiles softly.

If Eyl’Yti is going to help this crew he knows he must make some allies in order to survive. Yuu’Ko has so far been easy to manipulate. She is unpredictable and outspoken but Eyl’Yti knows that here in Morrowind many are prejudice against their kind. These three Khajiits must stick together.

Group 2: Somewhere east of Molag Mar


Inzlaalurith was distanced from herself again; attending to her surroundings in a scarily practical manner. The shoulder needed binding and protecting from infection. The blood flow had slowed to a gloopy almost ebony red colour. As she’d pulled the shoulder of her dress away, the fabric had taken the top layer of coagulated blood with it. It would be best to clean it but something in her gut urged her not to trust the natural water here. Instead she sparingly washed it with some sterilized water from her water-skin before applying a fresh poultice she’d prepared.


It was times like these when she wished she’d spent more time learning restoration spells of the body, she knew some basics and could easily heal light wounds but something as serious and deep as this was beyond her. So she’d fallen back on her self taught knowledge of herbs and alchemy... well she wasn’t entirely self-taught, her younger brother had become a professional herbalist and alchemist. She could hear the advice he’d give to her if he were here now:

“Never try to magically heal something that is outside of your capabilities... it will go horribly wrong, someone else will have to fix it and there will be a lot of questions. Clean the wound as much as possible without irritating it then gently apply a poultice before binding it with clean fabric. And if you’re going to make a poultice make sure your mortar and pestle are sterilized beforehand.”


Inzlaalurith had followed most of that advice..... Her poultice was crude, but effective. Made from mashed marshmerrow, flakes of deadra skin (a usually rare ingredient, but where she’d been lately it was plentiful) and a tiny bit of resin to bind the mixture together.


She didn’t have any clean cloth either so she’d torn a sleeve off her robe and attempted to wrap it but it just fell in her lap.


“Blaze can you help?”

“Everything I touch burns mistress.”

“Can’t you manipulate it at all? Are you capable of telekenesis” She voiced the thought as it occurred to her.

Blaze thought for a few moments.

“I have never tried before, I don’t think I could bind it as tightly as needed.”

“It’ll do... anything is better than nothing. I can’t leave it open to the elements in a place where a sandstorm could strike at any time of day.”


Several frustrated and one successful attempt later her shoulder was bound.

“Thank you Blaze.” She looked directly at the hovering atronach.

Blaze nodded. “Maybe this is something I can practise. It would be very useful.”


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


The trip to Molag Mar would’ve taken just 2 days if she were in good shape but with her dwindling food supplies and regular changing of her dressing it had taken double the travel time.


The journey was spent mostly in silence, trawling through kwama mines for nutritious kwama eggs, and pulling up thick handfuls of marshmerrow to chew on as she walked. Blaze trailed behind her, true to her word, practising telekenisis by moving pebbles and rocks for increasing distances.


Inzlaalurith was not looking forward to Molag Mar, and not just for the fact that it meant tolerating other people. Firstly it was rammed full of uptight self important members of the Tribunal faith, and secondly it meant having to dismiss Blaze. With a normal atronach this would not be a problem but this particular atronach was different. The usual dismissing hand gestures did indeed cause Blaze to vanish from in front of her, but instead the creature became trapped in the back of her mind. A dull burning in the base of her skull at first but if left for too long it became a burning down her spine, along her legs into her chest until both of them were suffering so horribly that she’d have to free the atronach from her prison. Neither of them enjoyed the experience but in some towns it was necessary, and Molag Mar was one of those towns.

Group 2

Noticing that the others were already at work at reading the notes that had been left behind, with the Imperial eager to start sewer diving (something that Velron himself despised the thoughts of going into the disgusting depths below), The Ordinator decided that finding out more from the 'victims' might yield more results than just dispatching rats. However the reports of people wandering in the sewers and becoming infected with blight, yet no recollection of why they were in there was a pressing concern. This information made the Inquisitor begrudgingly agree with the Imperial that time was of the essence to clear the problem in the depths below.

The information that was given to them in the briefing did seem to have some holes, mainly in the reason an Inquisitor was involved if there wasn't some dissent in the ranks apparent. Other than finding heresy in the populace, his other duties was finding those within the Temple that are spreading lies about the tribunal, and spreading dissent. And from what he had observed thus far, there wasn't any mention of the so called prophecies or any kind of mutterings.

Why had the High Fane requested MY presence in Molag Mar when i had begun to find more information about dissidents in Vivec.. Velron pondered as his eyes narrowed. Has the High Fane begun to lose their faith? After this mission is completed, i will need to see what they truly thing of the Three, of the true faith.

Motioning to a few of the guards he produced a list of names from a novice, of those who had been found in the sewers yet without any memory of being down there. "Find these citizens and bring them to the temple, I have some questions to ask them for when I return from the sewers." And with that the Inquisitor followed the Imperial out where he viewed him looking at a map of Molag Mar, obviously looking for the best places to enter. "It appears that both of the methods we have determined may be found in the sewers below" He said as he spied the Ordinators he ordered walk down the ramp to find the other victims.

Her outburst had been noticed and the young Dunmer in the green robes came towards her. She swore lavishly in her head using every language she could think of. Surprisingly, there were a few of them.

"It's a relief to meet another scholar," the woman intoned awkwardly, "I.. uh.."

She seemed to falter and fell into silence. Looking into the girl's onyx eyes, the weird sensation Rikki had experienced earlier returned but the feeling and taste was different, nearly beyond description. She need to ask someone about this at some point. First the warm and bitter with Vyktoria, now something more complex with this one. It reminded her of the taste of flowers and the smell of butterflies. Or the other way around, she wasn't quite sure.


Rikki blinked. This was getting stranger. She looked away from the Dunmer's eyes and the effect faded.

"Well," she heard Vyktoria's voice near her and startled. The woman was smiling. "It seems I may not be damned to toil exclusively in the presence of bunglers and fools after all. I'm pleased to see your wit is at least partially intact, Miss Ja'Rikki."

It struck Ja'Ri as impressive how tall she was this close up. As a test, she looked up at the woman's face. The scent and taste that afflicted themselves on her were slightly different this time. She looked down again.

'What the hell is this malarkey? This makes no sense. Smell and taste as reaction to looking at someone? I need to study this later on more people when I have something to write in.'

"It occurs to me that you and I have not been properly introduced," Vyktoria continued. Upon glancing back upward, she saw the mage was addressing both herself and the Dunmer, "My name is Vyktoria, as I'm certain you already know."

Rikki swallowed nervously. Peripherally, she noticed that one of the other Khajiit had gestured at her, having suggested she may know how to gain entry to this ruin.


"I.. I'm Rikki," she raised her voice so as to be heard by the others nearby. She didn't want to have to do this any more than necessary, "I'm not really any kind of expert. I just.."

'I just what, exactly? Spout random [censored] that I don't understand how I understand? Yeah, that'll go over great: 'Hi, I'm Rikki! I apparently burst out randomly into information I didn't know a moment ago and can't expound upon, but I'm not crazy! No-siree!' Surely, that'll establish me as a valuable and stable woman to the rest of these people.'

"I.." The cat sighed heavily, ears falling and shoulders slumping, "I don't gods'am know. I'll.. Well, I'll fill everyone in once I figure it out."

'I should've gone with the '..but I'm not crazy' option. It'd've worked better.'

Group 1

“You are all fools,” Yuu’Ko defensively starts, “especially you.” She points at Ja’Rikki. Shaking her head, she mutters, “this one does not know what any of you are talking about. Citing old books and stuttering.” Relenting at last Yuu’Ko agrees, “so if that one knows the way we should follow him.” She gestures toward Eyl’Yti, “I think we agree on that point,” she states as if it were her own idea.

“Also too much standing around,” Yuu’Ko gripes, “we should get moving.”

Avarys went into the barracks and covered himself himself with wool underneath his armor. He left the Temple to find ten Ordinators waiting outside, aligned in a horizontal line. The leader of the group stepped out and confronted Avarys.

"We are at your command. Sera." he said.

Avarys nodded. These Ordinators are from the Order of the Watch. They are essentially just a militia. They're duty is to uphold the peace to the Faithful. But they still serve the temple. Avarys hoped the journey into the sewers remains easy. The Watch is not as ready for the Sixth House as his men were.... Soon Verlon left the Temple and joined up with Avarys and the Ordinators and they left for the sewers.

Avarys found the Imperial Outlander looking at a map.

"Outlander." he said to get his attention. "Where are the others? Are they coming?"

Eyra grimaced at the wizard's comment about those with shorter lifespans seeming keen for them to finish.

And what do you know about short lives? she thought. Do you feel the life seeping out of your body during every waking moment? Do you lose days, months even, whenever you tap into the glorious sweetness of your powers? Is every breath you take a reminder that you're being punished for the worst thing you have ever done? If not, then you know nothing.


"Some of us have to make the best of what little time we have," she said, keeping the worst of her thoughts to herself. For a Telvanni wizard who seemed to take great pleasure in belittling everyone with his supposed intellectual superiority, the man was remarkably oblivious to what was right in front of him.


"I am amazed you managed to preserve a vampire corpse long enough to get to some of its blood," she remarked, leaning across the table to read the notes Zethan was looking at.

"The old ones in particular tend to crumble to dust pretty soon after they are slain. The main problem though is that vampires are unable to replenish their own blood, so if you managed a potion with vampire blood as a component, it is likely to be of short duration. You need something in there with strong rejuvenating powers to counter it."


Eyra's forehead furrowed with deep lines of concentration.


"I don't know of a native ingredient with sufficiently strong properties, but Spriggan sap from my homeland might do it. It'd of course be ridiculously expensive to import, but I happen to have a small vial. It could be worth a try."


From the corner of her eye, Eyra saw the Ordinators leave, presumably to join Gerald in the expedition down to the sewers. Eyra was in no hurry to join them. She had never seen a rat before coming to Morrowind and she was not too keen on them. Surely two Ordinators and a Defender of the Fighter's Guild could handle them without her help. As long as they didn't kill each other in the process.


"Jarrin root and nightshade makes an extremely potent poison," she continued, wondering however the wizard got his hands on two plants native to Skyrim, one of which was so rare that Eyra had only read about it in books. "It may kill the diseased tissue, but from what I have read of Martin root it will ultimately also kill the patient, no matter what you dilute it with. And we already know that death is the only permanent cure for Corprus, we don't need to create a new - unbelievably costly - way to bring it about."


Eyra shook her head, reading Zethan's papers, even though she was looking at them upside down. All these exotic ingredients... It didn't sit right with her. They were overlooking something.


"I think we are looking at this the wrong way. Searching further and further afield for a cure. This illness is of this land and it is here that the cure must lie. What do we know about the causes? Not infection through someone already diseased, but the basic, underlying causes? What are the components that make up the ash storms?"