Kerris Vinchis: Elsweyr Group, Heimthor

Kerris awaited Jo'Kharts response when Grob Goblin-Smasher arrived, and asked;

"Its Kerris right, I'm Grob may I join you and... your pet?"

Kerris raised his eyebrows and was about to answer, he knew that Jo'Khart was a sentient being who was entirely capable of Independent thought. The large Orc never seemed to think about what he said, he was always a great, big, ugly brute. And Kerris was currently unsure about Jo'khart's skills, but knew that beneath the initial house-cat look, lay something very powerful.

Kerris had a General distaste for Orc's ever since helping his mother at the Tavern, when a great big drunk Orc started flirting with her, his mother was bluntly telling him of her refusal to get involved with him, then the Orc started to get frustrated and picked his mother up and carry her upstairs, Kerris tried to intervene, he ran up and grabbed the Orcs leg, who just turned around and lashed out clumsily, it was all Kerris could do to dodge the clumsy strike, and at the distraction her son had made, his mother grabbed at his head and pushed it, and kicked him in his vitals, Kerris grabbed the Orc's head and pulled it back as hard as he could, and the Orc toppled over, falling down the stairs and breaking Kerris' leg. The scar was still there.

He was about to answer when Jo'Khart surprised him when he offered the big Orc a chair, as surprised as he was, Kerris didn't show any outward sign of it, attempting to look completely passive.

"I don't expect to early of a departure seeing as how we don't even have a plan for what we want to do next worked out." He answered, regardless of Grob.

"Okay then, I suppose I can wait for a little, I suppose I will re-stock on all my provisions before getting my armor and weapons from the blacksmith." He leaned back on his chair and yawned, but secretly he was looking at the scar, and his anger started to show on his face, he was just about to tell Grob to leave, but he was too late, as just then Grob started to sit down...

Kraven Desselius & Daenalin, Valenwood.

Daenalin wandered the campsite for a place to make rest. While most were asleep, he was confident he would still be able to find the little conforable spot he craved. Luckily, he was a jungle boy. The jungle was his bed. Daenalin looked up the trees and saw a few gnarled branches that twisted together. He was big enough to lay on them and not fall through. The young wood elf climbed up the tree like a fleeing spider monkey. His hands quickly grabbed hold of the branches and finally he hauled himself up to the trees. He stuck his dagger into the branch beside him and used the various large leaves to fold around him. Daenalin gave out a long yawn and prepared himself for bed. He took a peek below to see the bosmer girl look for a tree alone. He also saw Weldarion searching for a place to sleep. With losing interest, Daenalin jumped back to the make-shift bed and crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

Kraven Desselius made constructed a bed made out of a fishing net. He tied each end to a tree and was able to secure a spot in the farthest corner in the camp. Free from the snoring and the flatulance from the other soldiers and fighters. He gulped down the last bit of water inside a clay jug and set it upon the floor beside him. He then prepared himself to sleep. The chirping of the creatures and sounds of the crickets made Kraven's sleep arrive quicker. The sound of the wild felt natural to him...it felt just right. Kraven shut his eyes and went to sleep.

Grob the Goblin Smasher, Heimthor

Grob looked at the Imperial, something was up he knew the Imperial didn't like him. To his surprise the "cat" offered him a chair.

Your no cat thought Grob sitting down.

"I don't expect to early of a departure seeing as how we don't even have a plan for what we want to do next worked out."

As soon as the "cat" talked Grob finally realized, he wasn't a cat but a rare species of Khajiit. Just before he sat down he looked at the Khajiit.

"I'm sorry my little friend, I have had a bit to drink I didn't realize I'm sorry" said Grob.

In the corner of his eye he could see the anger on the Imperials face. Grob sat on the chair which started to creak but he paid it no attention.

"You there Imperial what's wrong with you, you keep looking at me as if I've killed your family right in front of your eyes" said Grob.

As he was waiting for an answer his chair started to crack, Grob noticed it. Suddenly the chair cracked into millions of pieces and Grob came falling down landing on the floor.

Kerris Vinchis:Elsweyr group, Heimthor Tavern

As the huge Orc came crashing down to earth in an amazingly undignified manner, Kerris couldn't help but erupt into laughter, all his anger was gone now, and he was clearly amused by Jo'Khart's prank.

He calmed down after a while and answered the Orc's question.

"I've had some.. bad experiences withe your kind," he stated, he wasn't angry at the Orc, he couldn't be at somebody who had just been embarrassed to such an extent. And Grob didn't look too bad, he looked like a friendly person under all that... muscle... Kerris was aware of the Orc's probable anger, and it didn't look like he was going to be very easy to best in a fight. Kerris got up quickly, knocking over his chair and strode to the door of the Tavern, while he walked he explained,

"It is getting late, and I must go, I would also like to get some of those provisions now, I wouldn't mind a sleep in, tommorow," He turned at the door and looked at Jo'Khart, "Farewell Jo'Khart, may we speak again." And the he left, the door swinging shut behind him.

He heard a gravelly voice in the alleyway near him.

"You're lying!" It said, he heard a shuffling of feet. Stepping softly, Kerris edged around and saw a Redguard from their group bent over, with a Dunmer behind him with a bow pointed to the Redguard's head.

Springing into action, Kerris ran forward, cursing his heavy footfall as the Dunmer turned around. The Dunmer looked surprised and loosed his arrow. It was a bad shot and the arrow was buried in Kerris' left arm, he double over in pain as the bowman stepped towards him...

"Are you also from the Elsweyrian company?" The Dunmer asked, putting his bow over his back, along with his quiver. Blood slid down Kerris' arm as the Dunmer awaited an answer.

"Yes..." He rasped, pulling on the arrow, when sharp pain shot up his arm, Kerris fell over, face down on the flagstones.

"Do you know of a Breton in your company?" It asked, and Kerris knew he was talking about Arnand, maybe Jo'Khart too, but he didn't want to betray his new friend and lied.

'No, we have no Bretons I know of..." Kerris cried in pain as he tried again to pull out the arrow, but was unsuccessful once more

The Dunmer smiled, a warm friendly smile, but his red eyes betrayed him, a look of unforgettable malice and frustration in his eyes, as he kicked Kerris' face into the mud, and replied slowly. "Where. Is. The... BRETON!!!" He cried, pulling his knife out and lunging out, hitting one of Kerris' blood veins and making his left arm go completely numb.

With that, Kerris pulled out the arrow, for the pain was numbed, and lunged at the Dunmer, the muderous point of the arrow burying itself in the Dunmer's right shoulder, causing him to drop the dagger, which, in turn, Kerris lunged for, and slashed at his aggressor, slicing open his belly, killing the Dunmer, who flopped onto the ground, the light of life extinguished from his eyes. Kerris reached into his pack with his good arm, and pulled out a vial of ground Daedra Hearts, he rubbed the fine dust on the wound, which stemmed the blood flow and help with the pain.

Gripping his arm tightly, Kerris stumbled to the Herbalist, when he entered he was met by two Khajiit, a large Cathay-Raht, and Aravi, the Khajiit who had supplied the Moon sugar to Nee-Wom.

Grob the Goblin Smasher, Heimthor
Grob wasn't that happy, his bottom was full of sharp splinters. The Imperial started to laugh and then he left the tavern, Grob got up and looked at the Khajiit.

"This is your doing I suspose" said Grob.

But Grob started to laugh, he went over to the other chair and sat on it.

"So my little friend do you have a name?" asked Grob.

Jo'Khart, Inn, Heimthor, Elsweyr Group

Despite the general noise of the tavern, the Dagi heard a series of soft moans coming through the thin floorboards but he simply ignored it as he watched the Orc go to sit down. He was surprised it didn't break at first but enjoyed the spectacle a moment later when the large Orc crashed to the ground heavily.

Kerris burst out laughing but Jo'Khart remained with a neutral face, really not finding much humor out of it. He had been insulted and he had acted accordingly. As he expected the Orc wasn't injured but he was surprised when he got back up and talked to him without yelling in anger.

"I have no idea what you are talking about my large friend. A fellow as large as yourself combined with these rickety old things, it's no surprise really." he said with no emotion playing on his feline features. He hadn't really noticed that Kerris had left, nor did he really care but he wasn't exactly fond of Orcs and didn't care to be left alone with this one, despite the big Orc initiating conversation.

"Look friend, this is going to sound extremely rude," he started, placing his glass down on the bar, "but I've had quite a bit, two bottles actually, and I think I'm going to step outside for a while. Clear my head, but my name is Jo'Khart and it is a pleasure meeting you."

Juhanor - Herbalist's

"I don't think I ever met your friend..." The Argonian looked at Juhanor for a second with a puzzled look on his face, "Oh, are you from the band too?" questioned Nee-Wom. "Yeah, Scales, I am," Juhanor replied, "my name is Juhanor." The Cathay-raht clasped Nee-Wom's hand in his own. "Glad you aren't dead."

"Alright, I'm going to go find a place to stay. I don't have any coins, so I'll probably find a rooftop or something. See you in the morning, Scales." As Juhanor was moving to leave the building, one of the men from their party, Kerris, stumbled in. He was clutching his arm, from which a small amount of blood was flowing out of. "By Baan Dar, what happened to you?" asked Juhanor; after making sure the man wasn't wounded too badly, the Cathay-raht set him down upon a nearby chair and motioned for the healer to treat him.

Valenwood

OOC: Erandur asked me to command Aiden for today, because he can't. So, here goes. Hopefully he'll be satisfied; if not, tell me what needs to be changed, because i don't want to misrepresent Aiden. :ermm:

IC: Aiden was a little disappointed when Raven went off to sleep by herself. Being at war, it had been far too long since he'd been with a woman, and he found himself quite taken with the beautiful, mysterious, and kind-hearted Bosmer woman who liked his cooking and treated him with a kind of respect he'd never really had before.

As he watched her walk away, he felt somewhat ashamed to be enjoying the sight--the way her body moved with such grace and confidence, slightly teasing, and yet totally innocent. She was different from most other women--that he knew for sure. He wasn't sure how she was different, but there was just something about her...

He looked into the fire, watching the orange flames dance, and sparks rise into the dark night sky, as if to join the stars in their everlasting light--the gateways to Aetherius.

The cries of the wolves and the other nocturnal creatures of the jungle reached his ears, while the sounds from the camp continued to die down as the others went. Only those left guarding the camp remained awake, looking out for any signs of trouble.

Aiden wondered as he looked out into the jungle, could the Khajiit be out there, prowling in the night, prepared to pounce on them while they slept? Sighing, he chased away such anxieties and looked up toward the fortress, where many of his fellow soldiers had gone to retire for the night. And Aiden decided to do the same.

Yawning with exhaustion, he got up and stretched, and then wandered out to find his own bed.

Kerris Vinchis-Elsweyr Group, Heimthor

When Kerris burst into the Herbalist's shop, his legs ready to collapse, and his arm limp and unable to move, one of the Khajiit, a Cathay-Raht, sat him down onto a chair and asked;
"By Baan Dar, what happened to you?"
He then motioned for the Healer to tend to him, Dar'Kharu hurried to a high pantry and retrieved a coarse strip of what resembled linen, and a small bottle of a red liquid. He soaked the bandage in the red liquid, and wrapped it around Kerris' wound. After this was done, the healer wiped away the blood and cleansed the skin. The pain slowly subsided and Kerris' mind cleared, he gathered his thoughts and answered.

"I heard a Dunmer voice down a dark alleyway, and I saw that the Redguard from our group, called...." he searched his memory, until he found the right name, "Jax, that's the name, anyway, was being threatened by said Dunmer, who was armed with a bow, and he shot me in the arm," Kerris gestured the bandage then continued, "I went down, and he came up to me and enquired about the Breton in our group, Arnand, who, in fact is currently in bed with a Khajiit wench in the Tavern, anyway, the Dunmer was angry at my lack of cooperation, and stabbed me in the arm, and I pulled out the arrow and drove in into him." He was breathless, and his arm began to throb, apparently the red liquid didn't go down well with crushed daedra hearts.

Kerris fell off the chair, unconscious, and just outside the shop, a stealthy Wood elf took in all this information, grinned, and darted off towards the Tavern...

Grob the Goblin Smasher
Grob watched as the Khajiit left the tavern. Grob called over the bartender. The bartender came over and looked at Grob.

"How may I serve?" asked the bartender.

"Give me a bottle of wine" said Grob handing his septims over to the bartender.

Varon Athren, Valenwood

Varon awoke with a splitting headache and he felt like he’d just about been trampled by a horse. He could hardly even open either one of his eyes, and he knew that both his eyes were swollen. His whole face was swollen, actually, and he could feel with his tongue that his bottom lip was split. Blood was crusted in the corners of his mouth and a mixture of dirt and sweat created a gritty feel on his skin. He was filthy, and he knew by the smell that assaulted his nostrils when he inhaled that he needed to bathe—and bad.

Groaning as his pulled his aching body up into a sitting position, Varon felt his face with his hand. What did I do to myself this time? he wondered silently. He knew this had not happened during the battle that day. They won the battle, and they had even captured the Khajiit commander of…

Oh. Now I remember. Azura, why must I be such a baffoon?

Sighing, Varon concentrated his energies in order to heal himself with magicka. He could feel the energy building inside him as he focused on the image of himself healed—his broken skin repaired, the bruises and swelling gone. Visualizing himself in a state of near-perfect health, Varon lifted his right hand and cast the spell that would make his vision into a reality. As the white light fell around him, he felt the healing taking place, and by the time it was finished, he was no longer bruised and aching.

His headache remained, however—the result of his heavy drinking the night before… By Azura, why can’t there be a spell to cure hangovers?

He heaved himself up to stand, and then looked down at his disheveled attire—wrinkled, slightly torn, and covered in dirt, blood, and sweat. Lifting his arm, he sniffed himself and gagged from the smell. Yes, he needed to go to the river and bathe, before his own stench killed him.

He looked around the camp and saw that it was barely sunrise and most of the others were still asleep. Good, he thought, as he headed away from the camp in the direction of the river. A nice swim in the river and a good breakfast to follow—that was his plan. What was to come after that, he would leave it up to fate.

Meldor, Valenwood

The night had gone by rather quickly, with morning breaching into his eyes before he knew it. And to his relief, not a single one of the others had disappeared and though he heard some foot steps outside of camp, it had no affect. The sun was quickly coming into view though, with the orange sky dotting the horizon, or at least, part of it, the trees hindered his vision, but non the less, it was a beautiful sight. The early birds began singing their songs to one another, music to my ears.

He saw Varon get up first, and was surprised he was the first to wake, after all, he had drank heavily the night before and had been beaten up pretty bad, but he still managed to wake up before anyone else, and heal himself from the looks of it. Meldor watched with intensity as Varon made his way out of the camp, probably heading to the nearby river to wash up, something most, if not all of the camp needed and was bound to do it. Meldor figured to stay behind though, and give Varon his space for now.

If he was already awaken, then everyone else should be too, and thus, Meldor figured he'd wait it out until more people awoke, to leave everyone whilst sleeping.

Raven, Valenwood

The first blow to the back of her head took the little Bosmer girl by surprise. She didn’t even have time to react before the second blow followed, even stronger than the first. Then she heard the woman’s voice—cold, hateful, demeaning, as if speaking to something less than human.

“You despicable scamp!” Casta Valerius yelled, grabbing the young girl’s arm and yanking her roughly. “How dare you eat that chicken leg?”

“I was hungry!” the child cried, cowering as her Imperial guardian stood over her, broom in hand, ready to beat her again.

“You had no right to take it out of the garbage!” the tall, portly woman continued to yell, careless of the child’s needs. “I ought to take you out into the jungle and feed you to a pack of wolves!”

Tears streamed down the young girl’s cheeks as she curled up and held her knees to her chin, keeping her eyes down, afraid to look up. She had been denied food for nearly three whole days, so when Casta threw a perfectly edible chicken leg into the garbage after supper that night, the starving child couldn’t help herself… The chicken had still retained a little warmth, and it tasted so good— moist and seasoned so deliciously, it practically melted in her mouth. She couldn’t understand why Casta would throw it away—there was absolutely nothing wrong with it.

She trembled fearfully, and let out a cry when Casta grabbed her again by the arm and pulled her along through the house, stopping when they reached the pantry. She bent down and lifted the hatch that went down into the root cellar, and then she tossed the tiny wood elf into the hole without a single word.

When the door closed above her, the child was left in complete and utter darkness, surrounded by dirt, dust, and crawling insects. She kept herself huddled up in the middle of the floor and tried to muffle her painful sobs in her arms. Already she could feel the horrible, terrifying creeping of a spider on her back, and she wept, knowing there was nothing she could do about it…

Raven jerked awake, pulling her arms around herself and shaking with fear. It took a moment for her to realize that she was not in that awful cellar in Casta’s house. That dreadful experience was long behind her, and she was sitting in a bed deep within the fortress—she was not that terrified little girl anymore. She was a soldier. A warrior. She was fearless…

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Raven sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her straight black hair up into a ponytail on the top of her head, tying it tightly with a leather cord. Then she started pulling on her boots and put on her dark maroon tunic over her undershirt. Once fully dressed, she stood and headed back up out of the fortress. It was morning, and when she stepped out into the jungle, she was in awe of the sunrise peeking through the thick green trees. It was a beautiful sight. But for now she was hungry, and she wanted to get herself something to eat.

Kraven Desselius, Valenwood.

Morning rose near the Xylo River, the golden ray’s of the sun bathing few parts of the ground below. The towering gargantuan trees caused the sunlight to come past as diamond shaped. Animals awakened from their burrows, birds from their nests and aquatic animals from their submerged havens. Kraven Desselius was motionless in his sleep, but the netting bed was swinging back and forth slowly. The Imperial slowly opened his eyes to see birds chirping above him. He sighed and yawned, arms stretching far above him to make low popping noises as his knotted muscles loosened. He got up from his “bed” and reached for the clay jar of water atop the stool beside him. He opened the lid and inhaled deeply to see if the water had been tampered with. And to Kraven’s positive mood, it was not. He got up and made his way toward the outside of the camp, although he heard footsteps nearby, he did not know who it was. It appeared that someone had awoken before him. No worries, he doubted it was a khajiit stalking nearby. Kraven saw Meldor waking up, but he said nothing to the bosmer, as he was in a hurry. He retrieved a bar of sload soap and made his way out.

Walking in the jungle, Kraven removed his loincloth and subligaria and began to urinate on a tree. Relieved, Kraven then walked around the jungle nvde. He was straight for the Xylo River to have a morning bathe and to also shave. Kraven took his spear, his long-sword and hunting combat knife with him toward the river. Kraven began whistling to himself as he carried himself toward the flowing body of water. As he arrived, he saw the current flowing smoothly throughout the river. He smiled and stuck his weapons into the mud and jumped in the water. With the sload soap, Kraven began rubbing it around his body, washing the grime and dirt away from his body. He submerged his head under the cold water and quickly brought it up. He then began to soak the sides of his face with soap, as well as his cheeks and under his chin. With the sharp dagger, Kraven began to shave away his facial hair with the help from his own reflection in the water.

OOC: To clear something up, the Breton the Dunmer was referring to is NOT Arnand. But thanks for the save, Sybbyl.

Jax, Heimthor

Jax saw the Imperial run hurriedly in the direction of the herbalist's shop. The Redguard, shocked that someone had saved his life, thanked the Gods. After his brief prayer, he strode over to the squirming Dunmer and pinned him against the wall, just as the rain started coming down. "Now it's time for me to get some answers. Who are you, Dark Elf?! Who do you work for?!"

The Dunmer, fading fast, took a quick breath and spit into Jax's face.

Jax had had just about enough out of this Dunmer. He punched him in the face, pulled him back up, kneed him in the gut, and threw him to the ground. "TALK, DAMMIT!" the Redguard shouted, picking the Dunmer up by the underarms and shoving him against the wall once again. He was about to hurtle his fist at the Dark Elf for the second time when he noticed how still he had become. Jax, the natural adrenaline of the Redguards flowing through his veins, his teeth bared, and his fist drawn back in the rain, slowed his breathing and calmed himself down.

Jax, suddenly weak, collapsed into the mud, the Dark Elf's lifeless body following limply. Jax stared at the wall for the longest time, his mouth wide, in shock. He had just killed an unarmed man, the one thing he had vowed never to do again. His hands trembling uncontrollably, he pulled his locket out from his shirt, prying it open with shivering fingers. He stared intently into his parents' faces, trying to decide whether or not their faces had changed, and if so, what they had changed to. In frustration, Jax realized that he didn't have to look at the locket to know that, wherever they were, they were more disappointed in him now than ever before.

Slowly clenching his fist around the locket, he hurtled it at the brick wall and cried out in anger as the rain started coming down in sheets.

Qanar - Heimthor
Finding out what had happened, Qanar lost all of his care. Sugars good for the soul. With a shrug of his shoulders, Qanar headed toward the tavern he'd promised to meet his company at. The noise bewildered him. For a town of what he assumed would be no more than one-hundred, there were sure a lot drinking and having a rowdy time.

Surprised to see a human running the bar, Qanar forgot what he was ordering. "Uh... I'll have a... some Reqar bros. Wine." Qanar hoped the wine would make him feel more sophisticated. The Imperial seemed to stifle a laugh as the young, goofy looking Cathay order wine. He snatched the Goblet off of the bar, and headed to a small table, surveying the tavern.

He was particularly interested in Kerris, Jo'Khart and the Breton-whose-name-escaped-him's conversation. As Kerris approached, the Breton and Alfiq Khajiit seemed to get agitated. Probably called Jo'Khart a pet. They hate that. Qanar smiled as he remembered the years of taunting his brother. Qanar wondered what they were talking about - hoping for battle plans, as Qanar's mind was empty. But his hopes were quashed as he saw the trio gradually get drunker and eventually the Breton go over to find himself a harlet. Maybe Qanar should do the same? Then the other men would stop calling me M'Qanar or Ja'KhajiitHmm... Qanar's thoughts turned to Aravi, maybe he could lure her into a room? No... probably not a good idea.

Qanar was snapped out of his trance when he heard a crash. The Orc in the group was on the floor, lying on splinters. A hysterical Kerris was leaving and Jo'Khart was excusing himself. Qanar saw a chance to make some friends and minced over to the Orc.
"I saw your fall, friend. Qanar hopes you are okay" Qanar offered his condolences as a conversation starter, then turned to more serious matters "You wouldn't have any ideas on how we get our leader back, would you? Qanar understand Orcs have great knowledge of fighting."

Weldarion, Valenwood, day II

After finding him a small room, the other evening, he had dropped himself on the bed to immediately fall asleep.

He woke up early, half an hour before sunrise. His biological clock was still set on short nights and long days. He stood up and dressed himself. He took a look in the closet, thinking that he may be lucky. And he was. In it he found a dark green shirt with long sleeves made of a light cloth, good to wear in a warm area. With it came a pair of dark brown, almost black pants. these were still in a pretty good condition. Over it he wore his leather armor, which protects his upper body, and leather bracers. His pants were tucked away in his leather boots. He took his backpack and weapons with him and left his small room in search for a higher place to watch the sunrise.

He settled on the highest reachable place of the fortress. He had a clear view over the beautiful landscape. Mostly was green from the forest trees with many colorful plants surrounding it. He took his last provisions out of his backpack to eat for breakfast. Some dried fruit, dried meat strips and some biscuits. I’ll have to hunt for the rest of the time, until we find a city where I can stock up again, maybe Heimhor.

By the time he started his breakfast the sun was slowly coming up, and from where he sat, he had a beautiful view. The air was colored in a warm orange. With a yellow ball travelling upwards. The sunrays made him warm and left him with a smile on his face. With the sunrise the wildlife came. The air was suddenly filled with the sound of birds singing their songs and they could be seen flying around, airborne.

When the war is over, I’ll find myself a place to live somewhere away from the cities, deep in the forests of Valenwood and elsweyr. That he promised to himself.

I hope this post is good. Descriptions is not easy for me because I have to translate it all from dutch. this kind of hinders my vocabulary.

Varon Athren, Valenwood Day 2

The river was calm and the water cool. Varon was pleased when he shed his filthy clothes and jumped in. He swam down and then turned to push himself from the riverbed up to the surface. When his head burst up from the water, he took a deep breath and sighed. For just a moment, he had thought he was back in Cheydinhal again, swimming in the creek. But the hot, humid jungle air was not nearly as refreshing as the air in his homeland. He missed Cheydinhal now more than he had when first he fled from Cyrodiil all those years ago…

Perhaps when this war is over, he thought, I should return home and face the consequences for my actions? Perhaps now Count Indarys would be lenient on him, if he turned himself in?

Varon shook his head, sighing once again, and thinking, No. I would rather live here in the wilds of Valenwood, a free man, than to return and live as a prisoner in a dungeon…

He set his mind to bathing then, and once his grey skin felt smooth and clean, he hurled himself out of the water and slipped on the fresh clean clothes he had brought with him in his pack. After a week of travelling and battles in the other clothes, it was such a blissful feeling to have different clothes on.

In a better mood after bathing, Varon walked back toward the camp, whistling a tune and playing around with fire spells in his hands. He probably spent more time fooling around with destruction spells than he did actually practicing his aim. But, as far as he was concerned, his aim was good enough.

Laughing almost boyishly, Varon tossed a flame ball back and forth, almost juggling with it—until the screech of a monkey in a nearby tree caused him to lose his concentration. When the ball of flame fell to his feet and burst in a tiny explosion, he cried out and fell back. Feeling like an idiot, he laid on his back on the jungle floor—until he felt the heat from his left pant leg on fire!

Varon jumped up and began hopping around while patting the flames out, thanking Azura no one saw his rather embarrassing moment of pure stupidity! Well, no one except for the screeching monkey, that sat up on the branch of a nearby tree, watching him—probably laughing at him.

“What are you looking at?” he said, straightening himself and continuing back to camp. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the monkey still watching him, and he chuckled a bit, saying, “That will stay just between you and me, okay, monkey?”

OOC: Gavril, you are doing very well! Especially for one who doesn't speak English as a first language!

Kraven Desselius & Daenalin, Valenwood.

The Imperial sat on the edge of the river, washing his dirty clothes with the sload soap. Usually it was a woman's job to wash his clothes while he hunts for food or sharpens his weapon. But that was simply not the case. He was in condition to take care of himself, but the thoughts of his beautiful wife he left behind in the forgotten corners of the dark jungles of Valenwood. While she can fend off for herself in many situations, he still felt ashamed that he left her. Even if she wanted to join him, Kraven warned that it would be too dangerous to allow his lover to confront the khajiit and possible die in the battle. Her life would come to an inevitable conclusion and it would all be his fault. Yet, even if he took the more understandable route to her safety, he doubted she was totally free from harm.

Kraven sighed and placed on his attire, which covered his waist only. The heat of Valenwood is too much to be overdressed. He grabbed his spear and walked away from the river, listening to the various sounds of the wild; Monkeys screeching, pigs squealing and parrots singing. Kraven felt his stomach rumble and he immediately wanted to each a peasant dish called Kollopi, which was made with appetizing small balls of flesh, thickened with spices and juices. Kollopi are arboreal rodents that usually feed exclusively on the most tender branches of the graht-oak in Valenwood. He was hoping he would find some to sate his appetite. If only he had a bow and arrow. They helped him in many hard situations such as when he was fleeing from orcs in Orsinium while on horseback. He would have to borrow one from the camp site. Kraven walked off from the river, fully bathed and refreshed. The sun's rays beating down upon his tall frame. His barefoot made tracks among the forest floor, his prints being embedded in the mud. Kraven looked up into the sky as he walked and wondered; When shall it rain? Kraven thought as he proceeded back to the camp site.

As Kraven was lost in his numerous thoughts, he heard a shuffle in the bushes nearby. It was a low growling noise, it sounded profoundly feline. Kraven tried to see behind the bushes but saw nothing of importance. As he turned around, he heard the screeching roar of a jaguar behind him. Kraven quickly broke into a full run from the wild spotted animal. It chased him through the jungle as Kraven searched frantically for a place to jump clear, his eyes jumped from the ground below in fear he would trip to the trees above to where he could jump. Finally, Kraven reached for an overhanging branch above with both of his hands and was able to push himself up before the jaguar could bite him. He had dropped his spear and had his hunting dagger with him. The jaguar circled around, tongue licking it's lips at the sight of Kraven. It bared it's canines at Kraven in defiance. The Imperial bared his as well and offered a fierce retorting growl. Only now did he see the size of this jaguar, it was seventy-six meters tall at the shoulders and had a muscular built. He briefly marveled at the efficiency of the creature that wanted to make a meal out of him. But that brief admiration was stricken from the man's heart as he retrieved his dagger from the sheathe. Slowly, the jaguar wandered around before quickly jumping up the tree to reach the savage man.

****

Daenalin awoke from the tree with a loud yawn that echoed throughout the campsite. He climbed down from the tree to see who was up and about. He was disappointed to see that some people were already awake, while some were still in the process of getting up. The bosmer stretched his arms high in the air as he walked around the camp to look for food. Where in Oblivion is my breakfast? Daenalin thought angrily as he noticed no one had cooked yet. He sighed and went to get a drink. It took moments for Daenalin to realize Kraven was not even around. He was beyond the camp grounds somewhere. The wood elf speculated he must of been hunting or something, but did not count on it. Without thinking much further, Daenalin grabbed a few metal tools that came from the outsiders and began banging them against each other. With a loud-mouth shout, he shouted out to everyone in an annoying manner as he circled around the area.

"Lalalalala! Open eyes you lazy bastards! It is time to wake up! The khajiit are here! Wake up! Wake up! Now! Wake up!" The bosmer shouted rudely, awakening some of the new slumbering recruits. With an even louder voice, he screamed "The khajiit are here!"

EDITED. Discard.

Dar'ji-Heimthor

Dar'ji ran softly along the alleyways, the light padding of her feet only awakening the rats, as it was very late, and she needed to find a weapon other than her kitchen knife if she wanted to survive the war. She froze, hearing the sounds of footfall behind her, however when she stopped, they did not. Baring her teeth, Dar'ji turned around to face the aggressor, who was a short Bosmer with a dirk in his hand, Her eyes wided, she was only used to normal pickpockets and muggers, not a trained agent.

The attacker reached Dar'ji, whose ears were flattened against her head, and her teeth bared and growling, sending droplets of spittle into he attackers face. The Bosmer put his knife to her throat,
'You are probably wondering why I am killing you, well, you saw our Dunmer look for this Breton man, Arnand? No, we know of Arnand, and it is not him." He growled.

She swallowed, her eyes wide, and the Bosmeri dagger drawing blood from her neck, she answered, "I am very sorry, but I am not part of that company, I am afraid--"

He cut her off, "I know, I know, but you saw our Dunmer die, and you know that I was given false information, if words gets out about our organization, we will be driven out of Heimthor, or killed." He started moving the knife across he throat, and continued, "so to make sure word does not get out, we must kill the witnesses, starting with you,"

His muscles tensed as he prepared to slice her throat, but then something in Dar'ji snapped, she kicked in the stomach with both legs and drew her knife at threw it at his head.

The knife connected in a sickening crunch, and Dar'ji approached the corpse, ever since she left the carcass of the thief in there house, she had always been nervous about dead bodies. She pulled the dirk out of his hand, and twirled it in her grasp, and tried a few experimental slashes. It was easily the best knife she had seen, but blood was still coming from her wound, so she reached into a pouch on her belt, and pulled out a small amount of Aloe Vera leaves, half of which she swallowed, the other half she rubbed on he wound. As the wound healed before her eyes, Dar'ji made up her mind, she will ask for recruitment, in the morning.

She strolled off towards her house, leaving the body behind her, examining her new dirk.

Raven, Valenwood Day 2

Raven sat on a stump and dug into her leather pack, pulling out some dried meat and an apple to sate her groaning stomach. She was glad very few others were awake yet, as the camp was still quiet—most of the sounds were the sounds of the jungle—a welcome sound to her ears.

There was a pair of monkeys playing mischievously in the trees above, screeching wildly as they quarreled with each other like children. Seeing them wrestle around in the branches made her smile a little as she chewed her dried meat.

Raven took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening to the sounds and reminiscing of a time long ago—before all the pain began. A time when life seemed almost perfect…. But she couldn’t spend all her time dwelling on the past, so she shook the memories away and continued eating.

She saw Daenalin, one of the other Bosmer, getting up, mumbling to himself. Hmm, somebody got up on the wrong side of the tree, she thought with some amusemant. And then he suddenly grabbed some metal objects and started banging them together, making annoying noises and shouting, "Lalalalala! Open eyes you lazy bastards! It is time to wake up! The khajiit are here! Wake up! Wake up! Now! Wake up! The khajiit are here!"

As others in the camp started jumping awake, startled and worried, Raven couldn’t help but laugh aloud. This one is a real impish one, now isn’t he?

Weldarion, Valenwood, day II

When he finished his breakfast he decided to just stay up the roof and enjoy the scenery. There was a refreshing breeze, that made the temperature not too hot. He had a view over the camp of soldiers beneath him and saw that they were all slowly waking up one by one. If they get used to this they will certainly get their throats slit one day.

He laid himself down on the floor and looked up at the sky. His thoughts soon drifted off to the days he had spend as a mercenary, doing every kind of job. Given those days didn’t last long, since he quickly joined the fighters guild. The memory that popped up was random but determined the rest of his career. It was pretty much his first contract.

A red brownish haired bosmer waited on an argonian to walk past. He had been giving the contract two days ago and used those days to learn the targets daily schedule.

The argonian would get up around nine in the morning and would clean up his house until midday. He would then eat a meal at the five claw lodge in Leyaiinn before going to the store to buy provisions. When that would be done the argonian always goes back to the inn to get drunk and leave at around one am. He always took the same roads.

The bosmer was waiting on the argonian to go outside the lodge were he could grab him. He felt it was about to be one pm. And sure enough the argonian stepped outside. He patiently waited until he stood before him.

With a fast movement he pulled the argonian back in the small place between the five claw lodge and the dividing line, an weapon shop.

“scream and I’ll slit your throat.” The bosmer said while pressing his dagger against the argonians throat. “I’m taking you to the Greyland mansion. It appears you owe the wrong people some debts.” He pulled the man up and took him towards the sewer tunnels. From there he took the argonian through a secret passage and went straight to the mansion to get his payment.

A dunmer opened the door. He glanced at the bosmer and recognized him. “Did you bring him.” The bosmer shoved the argonian in front of him. “you are free to watch us deal with him.” The dunmer spoke. The bosmer looked around to find any witnesses.

“I … Weldarion was snapped back to reality when someone banged a few metal items against each other and started screaming. "Lalalalala! Open eyes you lazy bastards! It is time to wake up! The khajiit are here! Wake up! Wake up! Now! Wake up!" the man shouted rudely. With an even louder voice, he screamed "The khajiit are here!"

Weldarion jumped up and grabbed his bow and knocked an arrow. Scanning the area he saw no khajiit, or any other kind of animal. He nocked the arrow and aimed at the annoying bosmer. Ready to pull the string full tension.

“annoying bosmer.” He denocked his arrow again after some reconsideration and placed his bow next to him. “I guess someone had to wake everyone up.”

Varon Athren, Valenwood Day 2

As Varon neared the camp, hoping nobody would notice the burn on his left pant leg, he was startled to hear someone yelling loudly. All he was able to make out was, “The Khajiit are here!”

He gasped in alarm and quickly drew his dagger—the only weapon he had thought to bring—and he made a run for the camp, worried because he was so unprepared for battle. I should never have let my guard down! You’re foolish, Varon! He cursed himself.

When he ran through the trees and into the camp, expecting to be bombarded with a raging battle, he was stunned to see that there was no sign of trouble. The noise was coming from one of those annoying little Bosmer—the one that had called himself Daenalin. The man was merely trying to wake everybody up.

Varon cursed under his breath and re-sheathed his dagger, rolling his eyes as he started walking again, eager to find somewhere to sit so he could eat some of the hardtack and dried berries he had in his pack. He wasn't about to get into a fight with Daenalin, though he was sure he could beat him in a fist fight. Someone else would likely take care of him--like one of the angry sleepers he awoke. He didn't want to have anything to do with it, should a fight break out....

He saw Raven seated nearby, eating her own breakfast, and he decided to steer clear of her—she had always given him dirty looks, and he guessed she didn’t like him. He couldn’t imagine what all the other men seemed to see in her. Oh wait, he knew what they saw—they saw a warm female body with which they would like to share a bed….

Raven saw him look at her, and she stared back at him with that usual haughty and disagreeable look she always gave him. Only now her expression was even more disagreeable—she really didn’t like him. Oh, he was doing a wonderful job making friends, now, wasn’t he?

Seating himself by the fire pit, which was now reduced to nothing more than smoldering ashes and charred wood, Varon pulled out his meager breakfast and started eating. He peered over at Raven again, noticing she had some dried meat and a juicy red apple—oh, and it looked so delicious! At least she was eating well enough!

When he looked back down at the hardtack and handful of dried berries, he let out a sigh. That was the same meal he’d had for breakfast for the past month, and he was quickly growing bored of it. But at least he wasn’t going hungry….

Meldor, Valenwood

Meldor watched as people started to wake, one by one. He watched them all do their morning routines, whether it be go fetch food, or simply look up at the sun, curse under their breathe and cover their eyes to go back to sleep. He watched as Kraven jumped up from his make-shift bed and headed out into the wilds, possibly to catch something to eat for himself and Daenalin. When Daenalin woke however, he quickly grabbed some metal tools and started hitting them together, screaming the Khajiit were here. Meldor started laughing as one by one, people jumped up and prepared for battle, or as Varon had done, ran out of the forests dagger in hand, ready to fight, only to find Daenalin, marching around like an idiot, a funny one though.

Finally deciding that enough people had awoken, Meldor hoped onto his feet and stretched, as he had barely moved the whole night, besides from the occasional patrol. He walked around camp for awhile, making sure everyone was ok and well provided for. It seems some people needed more food, something that can be easily fixed with some hunting trips, but some other people needed proper blacksmiths, and some archers needed more arrows. He gathered some gold from everybody he could and decided he'd set out for the nearby town of Thaira and buy some new equipment for all who needed as well as hopefully get a blacksmith to come out and repair everyone's armor. It would be too costly to have all of them leave with only a few guarding the Khajiit commander.

After getting everything ready, he walked up to Varon, who was sitting by a small fire and brought himself to ask if he wanted to go with him.

"Hey Varon," Meldor started, "I'm going out to the nearby town to gather some supplies for everyone. It's too much for just me to carry, interested?"