Group 2


A young Dunmeri Acolyte, probably no more than twenty seasons old, tended to Gerald. Gerald followed the finger, opened his mouth wide as he could, and stretched according to the young elf's directives. The whole time, he was puzzled; these were standard Fighter's Guild health practices, so what was a Temple acolyte -who should most certainly be versed in magick- doing performing such mundane procedures?

"Shouldn't you be scanning me with spells?" Gerald finally inquired when the Acolyte appeared finished.

"I am afraid my magicka is drained for the day, I simply cannot," was the answer.

"B'vek, just how many people have you tended to, today?" Gerald looked around again at the multitude.

"Enough people to qualify me for a raise in rank, I would imagine," the acolyte replied sourly, then closed his eyes and sighed. "Forgive my lapse in poise. Twenty or more, I think. A large caravan of pilgrims arrived today and a pack of blighted rats infested our sewers last week; our alchemical stores were ruined and we are still trying to cure the victims and catch the rats." Gerald grimaced. "A bowl of hot water and some shein, to clean your face." Gerald thanked him and splashed the alcohol on his hands, then rubbed them over his face before rinsing off.

"What is your name, acolyte?"

"Kertal."

"Well, Kertal, I thank you for your assistance," Gerald extended his hand and they shook. "I am here hoping to find a way to make your life easier, so you can better serve these people. To that end, how might I better defend myself from these ash storms than a piece of cliffracer?"

"Yeah, that's really ill-advised, Outlander," Kertal chuckled. "First time I've ever heard of someone doing that. You'd be better going to one of the shops in the upper floors and finding a netch leather helmet. They come with resin goggles and a thick mouth piece that'll help you weather the storm."

"Appreciated," Gerald smiled. "And may Almalexia guide your hands." Gerald left the acolyte and proceeded to go, well, nowhere. Where do I go from here?

"Outlander, forgive my interruption, but the Temple Master has requested those who are here for the flier to head up to our temple on top of the city's canton. If you do not know the way an Inquisitor is already heading in that direction if you wish to follow him. My master thanks the Fighters Guild for coming to our aid.." Another acolyte informed him, before bowing and hurrying upon his way. Inquistor? Gerald wondered. He must mean an Ordinator. But there are so many around here, so who would be the Inquisitor among them? They all look the damn same!

After some scanning, he finally caught sight of one with a golden cloak heading for the stairs. Since Inquisitor sounded like an important, distinguished position, it made sense they'd have a distinguished look. Gerald began to follow, but spoke not a word and kept his distance. He didn't know much about Ordinators, but he knew they were touchy, unpleasant individuals who did not take kindly to anyone but their own. I hope I don't have to work with them much.

Group 1

Balmora - Drowned Rat Bar

[censored]ity [censored] [censored] Alan thought with a start. He couldn't meet with Caius Cosades in this state. Whatever the man did, Alan had to be at least somewhat presentable. "I'll come with you to Caius, Larry! But I'll need some sobering up. Meet you outside the apothecary before the sun's in zenith." he said, before downing the rest of his bottle. Waste not...

"Barkeep! I will require a bucket with water brought to my room" Alan shouted over his shoulder, raising quickly to his feet. Too quickly, in fact, for only now did his brain realise that his feet were not as quick as they usually were. Alan got in some sort of over-balance and just barely managed to stay on his feet. This required some straightening of his right foot to keep balance, and in his standing up, he managed to kick a leg from underneath the table. The table fell on the floor, along with the bread and a couple of now empty bottles.

Scarlet by his show of acrobatics, Alan gave a nod to Larry, gave a hard look to the innkeep (for it was of course his fault for supplying him with a weak table) and strode off towards the rooms. His head in a bucket of cold water would sober him up proper.

(Group 1)

Vyktoria had taken notice of the lordling, certainly; his manner of dress was completely out of place, as though somebody had plucked him from one of the well-to-do districts of the Imperial City and set him down in Balmora. But aside from his curious style of dress, she hadn't given the boy much thought. Then the fool had removed his jacket and plunged into the river while Vyktoria watched from the mouth of an open alleyway, her clanfear lurking behind her. The lordling clambered back onto land a short distance away with an orange furred Khajiit, and the two of them shared a few words she couldn't quite make out.

With a smirk, Vyktoria moved forward, motioning for her familiar to follow. The Daedra moved between what shadows were available to it, keeping pace with its mistress as Vyktoria neared the Breton lordling and the Khajiit lass.

'Well, what have we here?' She stopped well out of arm's reach from the pair, the incident with the drunkard still fresh in her mind. Her bright eyes flitted between the duo. 'I daresay the two of you look more out of place here than I do.'

Less than a dozen paces away her clanfear watched from the shadow extending from a set of stairs, an oily smear in the darkness.

Eyra raised a pale eyebrow at the Acolyte request to direct people the temple plaza. How was she even supposed to know who had been asked to the plaza? And the Temple Master was requesting her presence? That man always looked at her like she was covered in Guar droppings.

She had known the Temple was mustering men to combat Corprus disease, investigate rumours about the 6th House cult and general heresy. In the Temple's eyes they seemed to be pretty much one and the same. Eyra had stayed in Molag Mar as it seemed a good base to find out more about the disease and how to combat it. But the Temple had a number of healers who were clamouring to join the Grand Inquisition. What did they want her for?

Then she remembered seeing the Temple Master talking to the Inquisitor - Sevryn if she remembered the name right.

My mother was a Spriggan if he didn't have something to do with this. [/]

The thought made Eyra's stomach tighten uncomfortably. She remembered the dark flicker in his eyes, the eyes of a man capable of anything. The Inquisitor was not someone she wanted to cross. And not someone she was keen to trust.

[I] Trust? If he knew half - maybe even a quarter - of the things I've done in my life I'd be hanging from the nearest tree. Well, the stunted bushes that seem to pass for trees around here

For now, the safest option seemed to be to do as she was told. Feeling a little bit foolish, Eyra positioned herself by one of the staircases.

"Along here for the fastest was to the plaza," she called out. A bunch of novices nearby started giggling hysterically. Eyra just hoped they'd weren't giggling at her.
Straight up, then around the corner and up the next staircase to the left. The plaza is right at the top."

Group 2

Hearing the footsteps of someone approaching from behind but keeping their distance, Velron moved his had slightly to the side to see who was following. From what he could determine was that the man following was an Imperial of unremarkable appearance the armour he wore was modest at best. A mercenary perhaps, or maybe just someone looking to prove himself. but an N'wah nethertheless.. However, The temple is in need of men from all professions and with the High Fane only supplying myself and Avarys, this may prove to be a challenge..

The Indoril Helm did hide the scowl on the Inquisitor's face, but the look of contempt was viewable in his eyes as he looked back at the Imperial before slowing his pace to come side by side with the man with the set of mismatched armour. "It appears that the flier has brought in all manner of men of the faithful and other less noble professions.." Verlon said to the Imperial as he began to walk up the ramp that lead to the upper canton towards the Temple. He had heard the Nord woman speak out to help others that were going to the Temple to find their way which piqued his interest about who else that was already here would join him at the Temple.. He had hoped secretly that there would be more of the faithful.. But the reason he was summoned was to restore the faith, which means working with these.. outlanders to do so.

group 2

Gerald knew he was noticed. He tried to be nonchalant and act normal, not changing his pace but definitely not looking towards the Ordinator that got closer to him. It was not the one with the golden cloak, but the other, less ornately armored. Maybe he's a subordinate?

"It appears that the flier has brought in all manner of men of the faithful and other less noble professions.." the Ordinator spoke, his contempt ill-concealed to one used to hearing the Dunmeri vitriol. Judging it wiser now to stop ignoring the Ordinator, Gerald turned his head halfway towards him.


"Fliers distributed through public means have a tendency to do that, I hear," he commented, almost as if that insult was meant towards someone else. He smiled and gave the Ordinator a thumbs up. "But, sera, those less noble professions are also the most useful against such an... ignoble enemy as the Blight, or the Sixth House." Gerald shrugged. "Knowing your enemy is half the battle, after all." He turned away to continue his journey to the Temple.

The Ordinator was taken aback by the back chat from the outlander, and lack of respect despite an honorific being used to address him. "Do you not know of whom you speak with, outlander?" The tone was even more venomous now, and Gerald froze. [censored], did I say something wrong? Probably. Keep it calm. Gerald turned slowly and raised his hands at his sides, bowing.


"Unfortunately I do not, Sera, beyond your being an Ordinator," Gerald explained. "I had thought, from your statement, that you were open to conversation. I was, apparently, mistaken. You are the first Ordinator to honor me with discourse." Gerald rose from his bow and motioned up the stairs. "I would like to put this moment behind us, and move forward on our joined purpose." Gerald hoped -no, he prayed to Stendarr heartily- that the Ordinator would give it a rest here, and focus on his mission instead of putting some poorly-spoken Imperial in his place. Gerald's eyes caught sight of movement in his peripheral. Ordinators were beginning to coalesce around them, staying some distance away but visibly awaiting a reason to get involved. He could see those dark red eyes narrowing and the Offended One's lips pulling taut. A n'chow. I'm gonna die without ever actually accomplishing what I set out to do. I'm sorry Seira, I tried to avoid this. I really did.

He wasn't even going to reach for his mace, or move his shield from his back, his hands moving slowly, deliberately, upward. Gerald knew this was a fight he wouldn't win. His skills were barely enough to last a fight with a single Ordinator, and this was a Canton's worth of them.

Group Two

Northern Vvardenfell, East of Maar Gan, North of Red Mountain

It must of been half an hour since Avarys departed the camp; leaving as soon as he got word about the Ashlanders' whereabouts. With him were Forty other Ordinators, along with the Inquisitor with him, all riding guars wearing fitted with Indoril style armor. He did not take his entire band with him because it was not necessary, the reports said the Ashlanders.... Were wiped out.

When they arrived at what was once the Ashlanders' encampment, they found the patrol standing guard. Around them was nothing but destruction. The camp was burnt, mutilated bodies littered all over the place. It was obvious to Avarys something else got to the Ashlanders before the Ordinators did. But who?

One of the Ordinators, the leader of the patrol he dispatched, approached Avarys and pounded his fist to his chest.

"Ju'rohn Muthsera" he said.

Avarys took off his helmet. "Ju'rohn Helmorca" he replied, identifying his rank with the Ordinators. "What has happened here?"

The Ordinator slightly frowned. "We do not. muthsera. It was like this when we discovered it."

Avarys grimaced. The Ashlanders were clearly not killed by the Ash Storm. No, some other force did, but who? From what he'd seen of the bodies? It may be something foul. Before he could continue his thoughts, Adrendos spoke.

"The Heretics has been eliminated; thanks be to ALMSIVI, but we did not do it ourselves. If only we could of had the honor ourselves."

Avarys grimaced again. Was this all the fool cares about? Are we to just go on and not find out who killed them with such savagery? He thought.

Adrendos continued to speak. "But this.... This foulness..." Suddenly his face grew pale... Like he came to a sudden conclusion. "Burn the bodies." He ordered. "There can be only one explanation for this massacre.."

One of Avarys' officers, a man by the name of Valen, spoke. "The Sixth House?" he said.

Adrendos nodded. "Yes. These bodies may be infected with the plague. Burn them. Burn what remains of this place. Then once we return to camp, everyone of you will be checked for the Blight." He turned to Avarys. "Now instead of Ashlanders... We need to hunt down an even worse adversary."

Avarys nodded. "I'll have some men look for clues around the camp." But inside, this concerned him. He had never encountered the Sixth House before, but he had tales of their horror. If they are nearby, then his men may be in trouble.

A while past and all the bodies has been burned. An Ordinator came to Varys and Adrendos. "We've come with nothign Muthsera. The Sixth House left no trace."

This angered Avarys. But before he or Adrendos could respond, another Ordinator shouted. "Muthsera! We have a problem!" He pointed south.... And from South a massive wall of dust grew bigger... Almost as if it's coming to them...

"Ash Storm!!" Avarys shouted. "We must get to the camp immediately!" They tried, but within a few minutes, the Ordinators has been engulfed by the Ash....

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

Sudden voices snapped Avarys into reality once again. Velron was talking to a Cyrod man in armor. Another outlander he thought. There's been quite a few of them here. He did not understand why Outlanders would want to help the Temple, but given the dire state of affairs, he would not argue. As he listened, it seemed the outander did something to anger Velron, and some of the guard of Molag Mar were watching. Perhaps it was best to diffuse the situation. He did not felt like helping an outlander, but he also did not feel like putting him down. The foreigner wants to help after all.

"Muthsera." he said to Velron. "I advise you leave the Outlander alone. We have more important matters right now. I'll report him to the Temple Master and he'll deal with the Cyrod." He turned to the outlander. "Perhaps you should choose you battles wisely outlander." he said. "Circumstances has placed us on the same side." Then pointed to the direction of the temple. "The Temple is this way, if that's where you're going."

Group 2


Looking between Avarys and the Imperial Verlon sighed and held up his left hand as his right covered his face. " 'Xhuth.. You are right Avarys.. And that is unnecessary there is no need to report the incident.." taking his hand off his face he regarded the Imperial with a look of.. embarrassment "Clearly I misunderstood the tone of your voice outlander and you are obviously ignorant in who i am. If you are indeed here to help then we will accept any help that we can get in these trying times.." Looking around at the situations about him, there were onlookers viewing the situation, ordinators had closed in slightly as the conversation continued. "Back to your posts" with that said he let his hand fall to his side and continued towards the Temple doors.

B'vek.. It has been a long journey for me to snap at a citizen, even if he is an Imperial, outlander and N'wah.. I must appease the three Verlon thought, disgusted at his behaviour.. he was meant to show the will of the Tribunal, to show that their faith will be rewarded and not have them seen as unjust. The Inquisitor placed the helm and his traveling bag down on a nearby bench and went to the shrine of the tribunal where he asked an Acolyte to notify him when the others had arrived for the briefing, before he knelt down in silent prayer to ask for forgiveness for his rash behaviour. After the briefing he would make sure that he found himself somewhere to relax and have a long bath.


Even in harsh times such as these, one must accept help from all walks of life, whether they were of the faithful, outlander or otherwise. The Nord woman was one such person he tolerated because he had healing expertise and healed him of an affliction he may not have caught until the effects became more apparent. The Imperial had meant no Ill will but had caught the Inquisitor in a tired and easily agitated state, but he had come to help, and in the ways of the temple, one must allow those who wish to give service to t he three, a chance to be able to prove their worth, no matter their outward appearance.

Eyra watched the altercation from her position at the bottom of the ramp. the situation itself was a familiar one, the Imperial certainly was not the first person to anger an Ordinator with a thoughtless remark, but the Inquisitor's apology was interesting.

Second apology to an outlander within a few hours. No wonder he is storming off, his head must be on the verge of exploding.


Eyra called the novices over to relieve her. They didn't like the fact that they had been ordered to obey her as they would an Acolyte, but the last novice that tried to ignore Eyra still had trouble sitting down, so obey they did.


Eyra walked up the ramp, quickly catching up to the Imperial who had been the source of the commotion.

" I suppose it is too late to warn you to be careful with that one," she remarked. "He is an Inquisitor, seems to think that being an outlander automatically means you're here to pollute the Temple."


He had apologised though. And even though he looked like he had chewed on bittergreens, he had acknowledged her healing skills.

"Still, he seems better than some of the others." She added as an afterthought.

"If you are here to join the Grand Inquisition, I can take you to the plaza."

Group 2

"perhaps you should choose your battles wisely, Outlander." An interrupting Ordinator remarked to him. It was the superior, the one with the cloak. And his comment left Gerald dumbfounded. Choose my battles? I wasn't battling! I was making conversation! These people really are as bad as Seira said.

And then the Offended One offered what actually seemed like a genuine apology. Misunderstood my... I kept my tone light and non-confrontational! I kept my tone amiable! Gah! Gerald chose to not respond to either Ordinator with more than a nod of acknowledgement. That felt like the wisest battle decision right now. The two Ordinators proceeded to the temple, leaving a heavy breathing Gerald behind.

Shortly after a Nordic woman several years his senior approached. She looked to be a mage of some kind to Gerald, but that didn't bother Gerald much. He was one of the few Fighter's Guild members in Balmora that didn't mind the Mage's Guild. What bothered him a little was the human skull on her staff. He glanced at it briefly, eyes flicking between her and staff, before composing himself.

"I... I thought the one with the cloak was the Inquisitor..." Gerald hesitated. Choose your words carefully, lest you offend the woman with the skull as well. No one's going to help you against her. "If he's one of the better ones, I want to be back in the Ash storm." Gerald slumped, running his hands through his hair. "Mara I may have made a mist... Did you say Grand Inquisition?" he shot her a puzzled looked before frowning deeply.


"Oh you fetcher, you've done it now," he muttered to himself. "I didn't come here to join an inquisition and prosecute people," his voice rose so the Nord could hear him clearer. "I came to help people grow more confident in their Temple leadership and rid the land of the Blight. I... this is some kind of misunderstanding. I have to fix this, please excuse me." Gerald bowed to her and then ran up the steps and to the Temple, searching for the Master of the Temple. He wasn't hard to find as he was waiting in a room with chairs arranged for conference with the arriving group. Gerald bowed reverently as he could, actually going so low that his coif slipped off his shoulders and hung over his chest when he rose.


"Sera, there has been some sort of mistake. The flier spoke of cleansing the Blight and protecting the faithful, but I hear this is meant to be a Grand Inquisition. I do not want to be an Inquisitor, I want to be a Defender, as I already am. I apologize for my misunderstanding of the call and seek to help any other way I am able."

Group One

Nevena was unaware that out on the streets, threads of fate were converging, nor that they represented key players in her own destiny. Once, she would have felt a bell toll in her soul. Once, she would have seen a haze of future and tried to make sense of it,

Now, she felt only cold and alone. She had been captured and imprisoned in the Imperial City for reasons she didn't understand. Then, she had been shipped off to Morrowind with bare instructions, only what equipment and clothing she had been captured in, and not a friend to speak of. Her family knew nothing of her fate, but she had been warned not to contact them.

Now, in Balmora, she had risked herself to no purpose. Of the Imperial, Nevena knew only fear. The cold insanity in her eyes, the way she used magic as a bludgeoning instrument of fear. The professional way she held herself, so reminiscent of the Imperial Battlemages who had captured and beaten her while an official ticked her name from a list -- and she, an Imperial citizen herself!

And she had no way to defend herself save for the staff in her hands, little more to her than a big stick that trailed painful memories.

But ... and here she looked around. She was in vaguely familiar surroundings at least, though the Mages' Guild of Morrowind was furnished with more tapestries and dimmer lighting than she was used to -- perhaps because it was lit largely by paper lanterns. She walked down the long, turning ramps and into the guildhall proper -- a small affair, but full of light and colour. A dunmer and an altmer argued in the corner, while a summoned dremora stood behind them, looking bored. To her left, an orc in plain robes studied from a dusty tome, eyes constantly flicking up and around, as if she feared being observed.

'Can I help you?' a breton mage asked to her right. She was taller than Nevena, though not much, and her expression was impatient. 'I've just packed my Recall spell away, so if you're looking for a guild guide, you'll have to wait until ...'

Nevena licked her lips nervously. 'Actually, I'm looking for the steward?'

And then she was directed to a severe young dunmer with immaculately plaited hair and cold red eyes. 'Outlander.' She greeted Nevena with a sneer in her voice. She was seated at a small table, various scrolls stretched before her, but at Nevena's curious gaze she snapped her fingers and they vanished into the aether.

'Ranis Athrys, I presume,' said Nevena, trying to hold her voice steady. The word 'outlander' had cracked at her like a whip; she wished desperately she could get a hold of some Morrowind-style robes. She hated how quickly her Cyrodillic clothing gave her away.

'Make it quick, outlander. I am busy.'

Nevena knew there was the pressing matter of meeting Caius Cosades for the Empire's purpose, but she could hardly bear to miss the opportunity for help. 'What do you make of this?' she asked, shaking up her sleeve and bearing a livid red scar, not-quite-a-burn, which ran up her forearm like a sleeve.

Ranis curled her lip. 'I am not a healer, outlander. Now if you would stop wasting my time --'

'I'm not looking for a healer,' said Nevena, her voice breaking. 'Look closer.'

Ranis looked again, her mouth poised to spit insults at Nevena, but her eyes widened and her mouth went slack. '... How did you come by this? It's bound into your blood ...'

'It doesn't matter how I got it, I just need to know if you can break it,' Nevena said, while Ranis pulled at her lips thoughtfully. 'Please.'

Once, she would have forseen that this was futile.

Group 2


"What ho, noble friend, stay your course for a passing! We are called together, you, I, and others. If companions we are to be, let us then be of good cheer." Suren was no longer using a mocking tone, for he was actually stunned that a Telvanni could be as....pleasant as this one.


"Together let us go to Master Rotheloth, no purpose in our going separate if our goal is the same. Afterward, we must find a public house, for oft have I heard tales of Fyr's mysterious tower. I would have you tell me of it."


With spear in hand, Suren kept pace with the Telvanni Mage, and went with him to see the priest of Molag Mar, Tharer Rotheloth.

Group 1

Larry Wall - Balmora

Larry watched with amusemant as Alan stumbled away, his absence meant Larry was able to take another dose of moon sugar, sobering him up and allowing him another few minutes of conciousness - He really needed to get to that apothecary. It had taken almost everything out of him to pretend to be sober or perhaps he was just tired and these things came naturally to him? Either way, Alan walking away had given Larry's body the time it needed to catch up and it didn't like what it was seeing.

He put the money on the table for the drinks and the bread before stumbling out into the obscenely bright daylight. Or bright for a body that was currently fuelled on moon sugar, flin, three days lack of sleep and a few bits of bread. He covered his eyes and headed towards his destination, he'd figured it out quite earlier on in his career that if he wanted to stay one step ahead of the game, he needed to go out; get horrifically drunk in order to gain a reputation and then down a few potions to both enhance his endurance for the next few days until he got into a bed and to wipe away any tiredness he currently felt. It was a viscous circle and an addictive one, but hey - It was all just another addiction to add to his mounting list.

"Hey! Hey Larry!" A soft voice called, Oh great, Larry mumbled as he forced his body to turn around to face one of his informants. It was a young dunmer, he was currently looking after the temple, acting as a monk who'd fallen on hard times and would get drunk with the ordinators. "Oh by the nine you look like guar hide."

"So I'm looking better than normal, thanks."

"Heh, yeah." the young man folded his arms infront of him, "Been up again?"

"Three days this time." He nodded towards the bar he just stumbled out of, "I'd like to say it was worthit but I think my legs would disagree." He sat atop a crate and accepted a cigarette from the Dunmer, "What are you up to anyway Zahys? I thought you were heading north?"

"Change of plans, they're organising something official apparently, some of the ordinators are upset but," Zahys shrugged and smoked his own cigarette, "Apparently it's a bit of a big deal, something about fighting the blight and killing some sixth house guys. Hey Larry, I gotta run alright?"

"Alright, stay safe and hey look-" Larry exhaled smoke into the air, feeling his lungs protest but his mind calmed things down, "I'm going to be out of town for a while, Caius has a job for me. If anyone asks, say I'm in Vivec or something, house party."

"By Akavir, good thing Caius probably looks as rough as you do."

With that the young man walked off swiftly, obviously not wanting to spend too much time around Larry, Larry smirked; he had that effect on people. Without thinking too much, Larry entered the apothecary, ordered four potions, a couple of ash yams and an apple imported from Cyrodiil. He stepped back outside and sat atop a few of the crates outside in order to wait for Alan. He opened two of the potions and downed them both in a single gulp. Instantly he felt their effects and while there was a lingering drowsiness and he was fairly sure his body looked like it had been dragged through the ashlands and left for dead - He could think. He fingered the tip of the other two potions, potions he had bought for Alan, he wasn't too sure how much of a heavy drinker the lad was he knew the Nord would appreciate the tipple.

"Come on Alan, don't take too long, I might fall asleep."

As everyone is more or less at the Temple i will get this Debriefing for group 2 on the road.

Group 2

"Sera, please take a seat, it appears our novices have been embellishing what it is that we are truly gathered here for, Inquisitor Sevryn has a reputation that preceeds him.. but i assure you what we have requested were not prosecutors, but protectors." Temple Master Tharer Rotheloth replied to Gerald as he looked up at the door.

Verlon was the last member to walk through the doors of the debriefing, Indoril Helm in hand as he bowed before nodding to a novice attending to close the doors on the way out. Looking at who else had arrived to the meeting, the Inquisitor noticed both outlanders that he had had incidents with, disdain replaced by curiosity at the current predicament. Not only do we have an Imperial and the Nord, both outlanders but.. his eyes locked with the Telvani mage before moving on to see the redoran. Also members of two other Great Houses.. the help that has answered ALMSIVI's call is.. a test of our faith to be sure

Seating at the head of the table, next to the Temple Master who nodded at him, Tharer raised his hands. "Now that everyone has arrived, first I must thank you all for arriving at such short notice, those who answered the call and-" He looked over at Eyra "-those who have proven themselves to those of our order."

"Again I must reassure you all that, no matter what the novices have claimed to have heard, this is not an Inquisition.. this was a call for aid. Refugees and Pilgrims alike have gone missing or found dead.. Mount Kand has become a place infested with creatures of blight.. Even our holy site, Molag mar has had increasin reports of dissidence and disruption, Sixth House activity seems the most likely.." He looked over to Velron and Avarys. "The High Fane has blessed us with two Ordinators of great skill and reputation.

"Hornalacor Avarys Tenirar from the Order of War has much experience in dealing with the Sixth House and blighted creatures alike, and as such he will be invaluable to aiding us with clearing the ways to our Pilgrimage Shrines. High Inquistor Velron Sevryn's reputation proceeds him with his ability to find cultists and dissidents hiding within the most difficult of places, and i thank the Ministry of Truth for allowing us to have one of their most successful Inquisitors to join us on our mission to bring faith to those lost, and to strengthen our resolve against our foes." When each name was mentioned they rose up to ensure there was no confusion.

Placing his hands he looked at the other members of the briefing. "These two men will take the lead and will work together with each and every one of you.. I understand there has been some.. complications with some of you, as will happen with such unique company, but we are all facing the same foe.. and as such you will all be working together without incident.. as if we ourselves are divided, how are we mean to spread the faith of ALMSIVI back into Molag Mar, and in such Vvardenfell. You have all been chosen for your skills and talents." Motioning to Eyra and Zethan "from those with knowledge of healing the blight and knowledge of coprus" and then continuing to Gerald and Suren "To those skilled in combat and have the desire to protect those unable to protect themselves.

"We may be few, but when you begin to bring back the faith and bring back order to our fair city, others will rally to our cause, and we will in turn show the Three our belief in them and aid them in bringing peace to our lands once more." standing back at the head of the table he looked around at the group.

"If you have any more questions, or like to introduce yourselves to the other members of the group, please do not hesitate to do so. When you are all satisfied we will convene and begin in the morning." The temple Master finished speaking and sat back down, waiting for any who wished to speak.

Zethan walked to the front to better be able to seize a moment to give out his message. Observing the situation and nodding in agreement with the temple master. It seemed to Zethan, that everyone had a purpose and their respective skill sets from what he had seen and heard.

As the temple master had finished talking and sat down, Zethan had finished thinking what he was going to say and how to say it. He turned to the temple master first and then addressed everyone in the room. 'I am Zethan of Tel Fyr and I am here as a representative of Lord Divayth Fyr.' Zethan began. 'My lord requests you send everyone who's sick with corprus to Tel Fyr no matter if they're far gone or showing the first signs of the disease.' He said talking mostly to the temple master and other members of the local temple.

'As for my mission here, I am to be given access to every accounts of the disease meaning the spreading pattern, flesh samples as well as corpses. The instruction I leave here must be followed to the letter and nothing must be missed.' Zethan had taken on an almost lecturing tone, hoping it'd also carry the proper authority. He wasn't all that used to barking orders let alone asking nicely. The only signs of nervousness was his newly found habbit of making sure the gauntlet was still hanging from his hip.

'If we encounter more of the diseased, I advice everyone to stay atleast ten feet away from them. Corprus spreads through saliva, blood, sweat and even air.' Zethan continued to instruct. 'Washing your hands regularily, wearing gloves and masks around the sick is more than adviced. I have already seen a few of the acolytes who failed to avoid the infection. They have already shown signs of infection. Thank you.' He finished and was feeling parched from talking so much. Zethan sat down near the Redoran he had been with before.

Eyra's thoughts began to drift during the Temple Master's speech. He was talking a lot and saying very little of substance.

it's not an inquisition, yet one of the men in charge has a reputation for finding dissidents. How long until they decide that the Ashlanders are responsible for recent events? People are already whispering about some silly prophecy.


Maybe that was why the Three had chosen to place her in this bizarre situation. Yes, it meant that she would find out more about the blight and Corprus, but maybe Vivec wanted her to be the voice of reason in the group. Maybe he had chosen an outsider to protect his Temple from its own zealots. It was all part of their silent agreement, and ultimately it would bring about her cure.


Eyra glanced at the Inquisitor from the corner of her eye. Nobody had ever said that working the will of a God would be easy.



Her interest returned to the group discussion when the Telvanni mage stood up and introduced himself. Of course she had heard of Fyr, his name came up first whenever she asked about Corprus research. He was an institution in the field, even if he had kept his findings largely to himself. But if he had sent an emissary, maybe things were about to change.


"And will your Master share his conclusions with us once he has this information?" She asked, not bothering with introductions. "Or has he instructed you to just keep giving us information that is already commonly known?"


"We have a saying in my homeland: Send out one Hunter and he may take down a deer. Send five hunters together and they will take down a mammoth."

She looked straight at the wizard now, her eyes cold and piercing.


"Corprus is our mammoth. If your Master alone cannot bring it down, perhaps it is time for him to bring in more hunters. If his knowledge were public, perhaps others might discover what he missed for all these years. So no, Master Zethan, I for one will not be standing ten feet from an afflicted creature - I will crack its skull open and get a sample of its brain to study."


She took a deep breath to calm herself. Being told how to handle illnesses or sick people always irritated her.


"Should I be infected, you are welcome to send me to your Master as a test subject. But until then, you can either choose to share his knowledge, or to let me do my own research. I know which one I would prefer."

group 2

"I'm inclined to agree with the Nord," gerald interjected, rising slowly to his feet. He looked at the Telvanni mage and then at the Ordinators, then back to the Telvanni. He had some knowledge of the reclusive wizards of the eastern lands, of their ways. But his knowledge was only what anyone living in Morrowind would know after three decades: rumor and stereotyping. Maybe, just maybe, Mara's grace would descend on this one Dunmer, and he would defy the archtype.

"I know nothing about Corprus," he held up his hands helplessly, "nothing beyond the average person's bar-hopping information. But I do know what it has done to your people. The Blight has your people ruined, their food rotting, and constantly paranoid of the next chittering scrib that crosses their path. But Corprus... the tales people are telling... the tales the common folk of your congregation murmur," Gerald's face grew grim, "they give grown men nightmares. And every story that has passed my ears has come with one response: Can the temple do anything?" Gerald motioned at the Temple Master.

"These people you mentioned who fall away from your faith, they are not your foe, nor should they be our focus. As an outsider, a man who worships the Nine Divines and holds no faith in your Tribunal lords, I know my words may carry little weight." Gerald turned to look at the Ordinators, not moving from his seat. "And I know it may make you doubt me, even hold concern for my motives. I just want to declare here and now; I am not here to argue the validity of anyone's beliefs. Be it the Tribunal, or the Divines, people need something to believe in these trying times."

Gerald spread his arms at his waist. "This is my home too. Born and raised on the Mainland. Morrowind is all I've ever known. If something isn't done about these plagues, it will be ruined, and even a layman such as myself can see that. Your people can see that. If faith in the Temple and the Three is necessary to end this, I seek to aid where I can in restoring it. Regardless of my differing belief, I want your people believing in this institution again."

"And from my outsider perspective, from what I hear on the streets, we need to show progress against Corprus. They have heard talk, but people have seen little action. They need to know something is being done, even if that research and progress is far from complete. The Fighter's Guild is trusted by our clients to get a job done not because we reassure them, but because we show results. Focus on your dissidents later; making your people feel safer, making them more confident in your leadership, will bring many doubters back without any inquisitions. If your lord Fyr can help the Temple," Gerald held a hand out to Zethan, "and share his information and research, half this assembly's job will already be done. So please, Sera Zethan, work with us closer. Don't just get access from us; give us access in return."

"Otherwise, we may as well go home." Gerald shrugged and sat back down, having said probably a good deal too much already. The Temple will likely lock me up before we're done here. Here's hoping they don't find out about Seira. That will definitely get me killed by those guys. His eyes flickered to the Ordinators.

"You're dressed as if you hailed from Hammerfell," the man observed, rather cautiously Rikki thought, "Is that where you are from? Do you remember why you're here in Morrowind?"

"Unfortunately, no. I.. I mean, yeah I.. I think I'm from Hammerfell. Or..maybe Cyrodiil? It's all very blurry; I don't rightly recall." Ja'Ri stumbled through her words like a blind woman on an obstacle course.

The man went as if to retrieve his coat, then shot her a distrusting look. Ja'Rikki bristled with offense, but just as suddenly realized that for all she knew, there may be a reason for him not to trust her. He motioned for her to follow him and she pulled herself from the ground, dripping water and silt from her body.

"Walk with me, Ja'Rikki," he stated, moving for his coat once more, "My name is Sinclaire Lettreux. I am a businessman from my home province of High Rock."

"..You ever think of something in your past and, even though it shouldn't be possible, two or more different things seem equally true?" Ja'Ri blurted out as the thought came to her. She was fairly certain this was a normal thing, but perhaps it was just her.

Almost before she'd finished her thought, though, another woman strode up to them. Rikki spared a glance toward her as she approached and her eyes narrowed reflexively. This woman smelled strangely and caused a warm, bitter taste in her throat. As the newcomer opened conversation, Ja'Ri pondered internally on why people evoked flavors and whether this was a normal thing to happen.

"Well, what have we here?" the human said by way of introduction, "I daresay the two of you look more out of place here than I do."

Other strange things stirred in Rikki's mind as she looked the human over. Older, but not enough sighs of age to pinpoint and the color of the woman's hair caused her insides to do strange things. Something felt familiar here, but she couldn't put a claw on it.

"Hello, there. I'm.."


Ja'Rikki pulled up short. Her brain was lying, or confused, or really lacking in good organization, she wasn't sure. What she did know was that in trying to recall her last name, several options presented themselves. That wasn't right.

'People don't have maybes for names. It's one! Just one! ..but which? Kem'Pale, Zeterra, Nydelvu, Omothan? Why is this difficult, it's my gods-damned name! I should know this!'

With only a couple seconds to indicate the war in her head, she settled on the one name she was sure of. She'd deal with this later.

"I'm Ja'Rikki. You.. both of you can just call me Rikki, though."

Group One

Ranis grabbed Nevena's scarred wrist and yanked her closer, now twisting Nevena's arm, now running cold fingertips along each mottled mark. 'I've never come across a blood-bound curse before, but I know the theory and am confident I can break it. These markings, though ...' She glared into Nevena's eyes. 'Are they relevant?'

'I don't know.' Nevena felt breathless. The idea that the curse might be broken was painful with hope, a squeeze on her heart. 'They appear only to be scars.'

Ranis flapped her free hand. 'Leave that for the healers to puzzle over. Perhaps Ajira can make you a salve to fade the burns. But this ... this is for true mages to deal with.' Her red eyes flashed in fierce concentration and a warlike light. She gathered magic around her in a prismatic glow; a multi-layered spell, to undo each part of the spell, perhaps. Nevena could detect certain runes hovering in the air that made it quite likely that --

Nevena held in a scream, biting her lip so hard that it bled. Pain seared up her arm as the scars lit up as if made of fire, and wriggled around on her arm. Some of them seemed to split and change, beginning to crawl towards Ranis -- Ranis shoved Nevena.

The light flashed out. The fire extinguished. Nevena hit the floor with a thump.

Sweat dripped from Ranis' hair and soaked her robes. She stared at her hands as if she could still see the marks on them, though her skin was unblemished.

'Steward --' Nevena began, her heart pounding.

'Get out.' Ranis' voice shook with fear and rage. She lowered trembling hands as the other guild members crowded around, looking curious.

'Steward, please --'

'Leave!'

Nevena left. She scrambled to her feet and ran out the door, the echo of the pain still haunting her.

Outside, the crowd had dispersed and it seemed a normal day. The murmur of a town in action hummed in the air, and an argonian nearly walked into her, murmuring, 'Apologies, softskin,' as she passed.

Nevena looked down at her hand. You could barely see the scars when her sleeve was lowered, but it wasn't the scars that made her worry.

There would be time to dissect this later. For now, she would have to go and meet this Caius Cosades, and see what this -- her kidnapping, imprisonment, and exile -- was all about.

She made her way across the river, keeping her eyes lowered so as not to attract attention. The river was quite a gentle thing, and rolled pleasantly beneath the bridge.

Then, she found the tree. A balding Imperial waited there, ageing but square-shouldered and of trim-build.

Nevena hesitated, then pressed on. She would never get any answers if she did not try to be bold. 'Pardon me, sera. Are you Caius Cosades?'

Group One:



Sinclaire's eyes softened at Rikki's answer to his question of her homeland. The poor girl didn't seem to remember much of anything, a likely effect of whatever it was that caused him to find her there, floating in the river. Now, relatively certain she could be trusted, the lord retrieved his coat and loosely covered himself with it. He was now a bit chilly, soaking wet in the light breeze that caressed the two of them.


"..You ever think of something in your past and, even though it shouldn't be possible, two or more different things seem equally true..?" Rikki began, but before she could explain what she meant, a stranger called out to them, standing a short distance away.


Sinclaire turned to face the Imperial who spoke to them. Her appearance was very professional, he noted, and she had a seemingly grim air about her despite her more or less casual greeting. "Perhaps she hails from Cyrodiil? A tool of the emperor, perhaps?"


After his new Khajiit companion introduced herself to the stranger, he decided to do the same. "My name is Sinclaire Lettreux." He said, sporting a calm demeanor. "You have a keen eye there, marking me as a foreigner. This one here-" he threw a glance at Ja'Rikki, "-appeared to need some help. I found her like this, floating in the river."


As he spoke, he had to wonder why this woman had come up to them to speak. Did he really cause that much of a scene when he dove into the water? Perhaps she was just curious? The Imperial seemed dangerous enough by her appearance, but yet, Sinclaire felt that she was a woman of logic; she would not be approaching them if she had any ill intent.


"What are you called, madam?" He asked her, in a jovial baritone.

(Group One)

With a note of doubt in her voice, the khajiit girl made her introduction, followed shortly thereafter by her human companion. The lad - handsome enough, Vyk supposed, though too young for her tastes and lacking a certain intensity - went on to explain that he had found the girl in the river, in need of help.

'And so the dashing young lord - for you aren't near as subtle as you think, lad, wearing clothing like that in this blighted land, and a non-dunmer as well - takes it upon himself to rescue the distressed maid?' Vyktoria's dark crimson lips betrayed an amused smile. 'Quite the tale. I suppose you'll have all the delicate young ladies eating from your hand, come your next soiree.'

'As for myself? You may address me as Vyktoria.' Lacking a dress for a proper curtsy, she settled on a slight bow. 'Of the Imperial Shadow Legion, out of Cyrodiil.' It occurred to her then where the three of them were, and the sorts of barbaric traditions the dunmer insisted on practicing. Her gaze shifted over to the khajiit lass, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Perhaps there was a reason the girl had hesitated with her name before?

'I don't presume to know anything about you, Miss Ja'Rikki, or why it is you found yourself in that river. However, if there's a chance the three of us will soon be set upon by slave hunters, I would prefer to know now rather than later. I can assure you I have no great love of the dark elves or their laws.'

This 'Vyktoria' spoke of a troubling thing. Different parts of her brain stirred at the mention of the practice.

'Wasn't that made illegal? Do people here -wherever here is- still practice this in secret? What kind of place is this? I can't have been a slave, I'd remember that, surely..'

Rikki paused a moment and rethought.

'One would think I would remember my surname, though, so.. [censored].'

"Oh, Gods, I should hope not," tilting of the ears and a swishing of the tail betrayed that she was not entirely convinced of this herself, "That's.. that's awful. Are there many out there?"

Another troubling thought occurred to her and it broke free before she could mull it over. Her ears fell all the way back and her eyes looked pleading.

"They don't just kidnap people and enslave them, do they?"

Group One:



Instead of addressing the fact that he was just called a lord, Sinclaire decided to ignore the comment altogether. Her tone was wrought with barely contained mockery, the type of attitude he thought he left behind in High Rock.


"Yes, and I'm sure your condescending tone is a popular one amongst your legion bretheren. As for the girl, I tend not to leave the lives of others up to chance." He replied, a little less cordially than before.


At the mention of slavery, Ja'Rikki began to appear uncomfortable. Her confusion astounded Sinclaire; it was common knowledge in all of Tamriel that the Dunmer have a penchant for using slave labor in their agricultural concerns, among...others.


"You have never heard of the slavery that goes on here in Morrowind? It's legal here, and also very common..." he said, turning toward the feline. "Don't worry, though, as long as you've come to this land a free Khajiit, no slave traders should trifle with you. Most of them are concerned about escaped slaves, which they view as...stolen property. Any others who seek to capture those who are free are outlaws."


Looking between Ja'Rikki and Vyktoria, he began to wonder what business brought an agent of the Shadow Legion to Morrowind. Sinclaire gave Vyktoria a look of appraisal, and decided to find out. "What brings a member of the Shadow Legion to Balmora, Vyktoria? Seeing as how you look almost as out of place as you say I do." He then shivered slightly, pulling the coat tightly around his torso. "Despite our initial greetings, I find it a pleasure to meet you." The lord stated, unable to forget all of his courtesies.

Group Two.

Avarys sat with silence as the Temple Master announced the intention of the Inquisition. Avarys laughed to himself on how he tried to explain it wasn't really an Inquisition. In truth, if you have a man like Verlon on a mission, it is an Inquisition. Avarys knows Verlon well. He does not look forward to not what may happened, but will happened. But if anyone actually believed what the Temple Master said, they must not know Verlon like he did.

Then the Temple Master asks for anyone to speak. A Telvanni mage who called himself Sethan of Tel Fyr spoke. He claimed to represent Divayth Fyr. Interesting indeed. Divayth Fyr is the oldest of Avarys' people and among the most powerful of the Telvanni both politically and in terms of magical strength. Times must be bad for the Telvanni to take notice. In the end, all he said was that Divayth knows a lot about the Blight and wants to send the infected to him, no doubt for research. Laughable Avarys thought. That's all the Telvanni can provide?

Then the two outlanders said their words. The Nordic healer that examined Verlon earlier spoke first. She tried to convince Sethan to make Divayth to release more knowledge of Corprus to the public. Avarys was amused by her futile efforts. The Telvanni are not the kind to share what they know. It seems only Outlanders do not get that.

Then the Cyrod that offended Verlon spoke. Avarys glared at the outlander when he admitted to be a follower of the Imperial faith, the Nine Divines. They are the only other faith the temple tolerates, but only because they have no other choice. But besides the Imperials inhabiting his homeland, the Nine Divines are widely disliked, and many of the Ordinators dreamed of being able to persecute these heretics. Avarys himself wishes for these outlanders to just leave Morrowind. The time ALMSIVI allowed these foreigners to rule over Morrowind was the only time he ever questioned them. But perhaps there might have been something they knew that the people didn't. And when the Cyrod claimed that Morrowind is his home, Avarys cringed at the thought. This is not your home, N'wah. he thought.

But he still listened to what have to say. the outlander did not want to persecute heretics. He believed that the Temple should not focus on hunting heretics, rather to show the faithful what they are and show them they are effective. Or at least that's the sum of it. Avarys was divided on this. A part of him did not want to find heretics. Not with Verlon in charge of this 'inquisition.' But the outlander did not see what Avary saw. And with the Sixth House, this may be the one what Verlon does might be necessary.

Avarys stood up again. "Your thoughts are pure and noble, for an outlander." he said the the Cyrod. "But you do not understand. You do not the understand the great evil the Sixth House is capable off. I have personally seen it myself. I cannot tell you what I saw, but the time may come. But trust me, this Blight that's tearing the Faithful apart from each other is their responsibility. If we eliminate their influence across the land, the blight will diminish. With the blight diminished, the Faithful will see the Temple is still 'effective." And order will be restored."

He paused for a moment looking stoically at the outlander. "You may not believe our gods, but I ask you to not underestimate ALMSIVI. They will guide us and they will restore faith."

He stood, waiting for the outlander, or anyone else, to respond. While he may not admit it, a part wished he could side with the outlander just this once.