Meldor, Valenwood; Thaira

The tavern had locals going about their routines, drinking, laughing, and discussing recent events, though exaggerated, they were still based on something true. Not long after Meldor joined Weldarion and sat in the tavern, enjoying the comfort it brought, Varon came in strutting his new and improved armor, leather. You could clearly see it was superior then iron, at least for this climate and Varon's face was different, happier perhaps, relieved to have all that useless weight weighing him down.

"Well, are we ready to return to camp, then?"

“Let’s go. We don’t want to keep everyone waiting."

And like that, Weldarion was off, heading into the much more bright world outside of the tavern. Meldor looked over at Varon, "Hey, you mind holding a few quivers for me? I got a bit more then I bargained for." Meldor laughed as his stood up and quickly broke the chair he was sitting in with his foot. Almost instantly, the tavern fell silent once more and all eyes were on him, along with the owner cursing at Meldor. He grabbed a good chunk of the wood and reached into his pack for some rope to tie over the bowl so they can quickly get back to camp. As he was walking out, he tossed the owner a few coins and made his way into daylight and caught up with Weldarion.

Nee-Wom, Heimthor, Elsweyr

Nee listened as Kerris introduced himself and told him that he was the one to carry him to the healer. Gravely, he nodded while the Imperial explained him how he got wounded: apparently, Bosmer scouts attacked him, and albeit he managed to kill his tail, he got hurt in the process.

"Thank you for bringing me here... I don't think I would have had a good time if someone left me lying on the street", Nee chuckled, but then, changing the subject, he adopted a more serious face. "Those are grave news indeed.... It was to be expected though. We should stay on our toes for the rest of the time we spend here, and depart as soon as possible. It seems the wilderness is safer than towns for us around this parts."

He turned to Dar'Kharu, and gestured him to come near.

"I need some more... suppliesss before I depart. I know thisss may not be considered honorable by some, and that we are somewhat far from Black Marsssh, but do you happen to have some productsss made from... Hisst sap?" He blinked nervously. Hist sap commerce wasn't exactlylegal, and was punishable with years of prison in some provinces.

"I see.... this one thinks he can help you... but it will cost you." the herbalist snuck into the storeroom with the grace only the Khajiit managed to have when they wanted to, while Nee nervousy searched his belt for some money. He took most of his advanced commission out, and handed it to Dar'Kharu, who had returned, with two small flasks.

"I don't think I need to tell you what is in there... and I don't think you need to tell anyone where you got what you now have", he said, blinking. Nee nodded with understanding, and quickly snatched the little sturdy bottles from the Khajiit's hand, hiding them in a pouch on his leather belt.

The offerings from the Hist should be dealt with care, he thought to himself. Hist sap was only extracted by Argonians on the center of Black Marsh. However, sometimes the Argonians sold some of the product to the outside. In it's pure form, it consisted of a potent hallucinogenic that should not be taken lightly. It's effects were potent and often unpredictable. However, certain alchemists could transform it to some more altered and controlled form. The ones the Khajiit had handed Nee were suposed to work in the way of enhancing his battle-capacities. Agility, speed, he should become a deadlier warrior all in all. However, he would do his best not to take it... Past experiences had left him in a complete state of unconsciousness after the initial rush had passed.

Dar'Kharu proceeded to tend to Kerris, who had seemingly not been taking attention to the strange exchange bettween the two men that had ocurred under his nose. He asked Nee if he was better now.

"Yesss, indeed.", he responded, "A long night of sleep and the cares of a healer were all that I needed. The wound itself was never that bad... I think the problem was the sugar." He sighed, recalling the mad events of the last day. "I think I am ready to depart and rejoin with the group... I've gotten all that I need. Do you think you are able to come too?"

[OOC] Ok, that thing with the Hist Sap, if someone finds it overpowered in some way let me know please. It will have severe side-effects , and not be that powerful though. I had originally intended to make Nee buy a poison with effects similar to a bite of a Komodo Dragon, but that was really, really overpowered, and I wouldn't feel good with making Nee use that. It didn't fit his personality... it is truly horrendous and dishonorable-

Kraven Desselius, Valenwood.

It was not the first time Kraven saved someone's life. He had saved quite a number of individuals in years. His lover, his companions and now Raven. He did what he felt was right to do. Although the blood of a killer ran in his veins, he did his best to attempt to rectify certain actions some may consider as atrocities. This did not mean he believed himself to be a monster. The will of his patron was absolute and he followed Hircine's desire to the letter. But if he was not told to take a life or to hunt down and devour an individual, Kraven felt that it was somewhat nescessary to aid those in need. But he indeed respected the fact that some people had to fight their own battles and conflicts. In Raven's case, she had already been injured by the tiger and faced death. She was already had lost against the will of nature, so he thought.

"The khajiit did not set foot against us and yet we both face challenges from nature's most fiercest of felines." Kraven shook his head back and forth with an amused smile.

As he carried Ravem, she began crying and shouting, demanding for him to release his hold of her. He was considering it until she muttered his name, realizing who he was. He noticed how she stared into his eyes, how they betrayed a certain savagery that resided deep within his very soul. He couldnt help but stare, and then, as if humanity grabbed hold of him again, he looked away. Does she know? It cannot be, his thoughts betrayed him. She thanked him for his heroic deed, but Kraven simply shrugged it off in his mind. He kept walking straight, heading back to the campite. After a minute of traversing the jungle landscape, he looked down at her and nodded. "I ask no favor in return."

Grob the Goblin Smasher
Grob slowly opened his eyes, his head felt like someone had bet it with a hammer. He slowly got up, but something was holding him back. He looked to his right to see a female orc in the bed with him.
Grob what did you do? he thought to himself.

He slowly got out of the bed, the blankets fell off and Grob looked at the orc woman again.
She has fine body but Grob thought.

He quickly strapped up in his armour and left the room, as he passed the counter the bartender let out a chuckle.

"Did you have fun time?" asked the bartender smiling.

Grob snorted and left the tavern. He headed for the black-smith, he opened the door.

"Hello there, I'm here to pick up my axe" said Grob out loud.

As he waited he looked around, the rest of the armour and weapons that the group had left with the smith were still here.
Good thought Grob.
He took a seat on one of the chairs and waited.

Kerris Vinchis - Heimthor

Nee-Wom answered his question, saying "Yesss, indeed. A long night of sleep and the cares of a healer were all that I needed. The wound itself was never that bad... I think the problem was the sugar." Nee sighed, then continued "I think I am ready to depart and rejoin with the group... I've gotten all that I need. Do you think you are able to come too?"

Kerris considered this and replied, "Yes, I should be able to, but I need to pick up my gear at the Smith, and may need some more supplies, but I do not beleive we will leave for another few hours, I will get my things, where shall I meet you? Maybe you can come with me?" Kerris ended his answer with a question of his own.

[OOC] Well, mine is kind of short too!

Nee-Wom, Heimthor, Elsweyr

"Maybe you can come with me?" Kerris ended. Nee really had no place he needed to go, so he figured he could as well go with the man. They would meet someone from the group eventually, while wandering around the village. They still needed to decide the next course of action. We need a leader...

"Of course, of courssse... " Nee started walking towards the door. He grabbed his spear, that had been leaning against the wall, and quickly checked to see if his possessions were all still with him. You nevew know with this Khajiits,,,

He stopped near the door, waiting for Kerris to join him.

"Shall we? Do you need a hand?" Nee smiled, friendly.

Kerris Vinchis-Heimthor

"Of courssse..." Nee answered, and picked up his equipment, which reminded Kerris of the bow he had left in the Inn, [i]"Damn..." he thought, as he had paid for a bed he did not sleep in, perhaps it would be refundable.

Nee was waiting for Kerris at the door, and said "Shall we? Do you need a hand?"

"Yes, let's go then, I need to go to the Inn first and then the smith. Then maybe the grocer." He replied, adding the last phrase as an afterthought.

He walked up to the doorway where Nee was waiting and agreed with his comment that the wilderness seems safer.

"Indeed you were right that it was to be expected, and the yes we should definitely be prepared, and depart as soon as possible." He sighed and added a comment of his own, "So much for Guerilla wars..."

They walked down the street and Kerris noticed the girl, Dar'ji, climbing a watchtower, she was obviously up to no good. But wait... was that a book? Maybe she just went up there to read... which seemed likely. He arrived at the Inn and had a heated conversation with the headman, a nasal voiced Breton.

"I was not able to sleep in my room last night, I need to get by bow out, and I expect a full refund afterwards." Kerris told him.

"No! It is not refundable! you paid the 10 drakes you get the room! What you do and don't do is irrelevant!" the Breton cried.

Kerris moved his head closer and was about to give the man a serious scolding, when Nee-Wom interrupted.

Weldarion, Valenwood, Day II

Just when he reached the border of Thaira Meldor and Varon had caught up with him. He noticed Meldor found a way to carry the porridge and still be able to run without wasting any. The sun stood at its highest point now and the journey to the camp at the same speed would take about an hour.

“let’s get going then.” He spoke and started jogging. He watched the scenery pass him by and was completely lost in thought while returning to the camp. After an hour he saw it. fhwe, nothing happened while we were gone. When he entered the camp he spoke to Meldor and Varon.

“a bosmer asked me to buy arrows, I must go and see him.”

He looked around searching for the mer and eventually found him where he met him that morning. A smile grew on the bosmers face and he held his hand high to get noticed. Weldarion quickly walked over there.

“You’ve returned. Have you brought me my requested arrows?” the bosmer asked.

“yes.” He handed the bosmer a quiver filled with twenty arrows. “nothing happened while we were gone ?”

“no, everything has been pretty calm as far as I know.” The bosmer said. “thank you for the arrows.” And with that he turned around and walked back to his belongings. Leaving Weldarion standing there.

After considering what he would do for the rest of the day he decided to get his stuff and find a place alone where he could get a minute sleep.

OOC: I'm moving the time forwards a bit to get thing going :/

GM Post #2 Valenwood camp, close to midnight Day II

Fire chewed at blackened wood hungrily like a poor man eating his first meal in a long time. Where the moon usually showed its face these nights, hid its face today. Clouds hung pregnant as if to rain any second. The spy watched two Bosmer smoulder the fire, after all, you didn’t want the enemy seeing the fire’s light. Too late, she thought smugly.

While few guards patrolled the camp, keeping a watchful eye out for any predator seeking to sink its teeth into anything that moved, the others slept. The Commanding Officer discussed politics battle tactics in his tent with fellow Officers. A mischievous smile curled at the corner of her full lips, it’s your last night boys – what aren’t you enjoying it?

“Hey Dorcas,” A kind voice cooed, “what’s so funny?”

Dorcas looked to the left of her to see a young, brunette Imperial woman clad in black robes with gold lining. Her heart dropped to see the Imperial. Over the years she was spying and gathering information, she couldn’t help but make friends. Now, she was going to sign her death warrant. Guilt stabbed her with each passing moment as she stared blankly at the Imperial. “Nothing, Sarah. I’m just happy that we can go home soon.”

Sarah passed a warm, genuine smile, “Yes. I finally get be with my child and husband. Oh, I love them dearly so, my good friend.”

The spy returned the smile then gave the Imperial a hug, “Well, I’ll be off now. I need some time to ‘think’.”

The spy turned her back to the Imperial, walking at a brisk pace towards the thick woods. The trees were twisted and gnarled like arthritic fingers, clumps of moss clung onto the trunk and the leaves hung heavily. She silently moved her way through the trees, keeping out of sight. When she was far enough away from camp, the spy signalled her bird whistle.

“Is it time?” A gruff voiced spat out of nowhere.

“Yes. But wait for the Commanding Officer to step out of his tent. He’s no doubt the best fighter in that camp. Also, they have caught one of our Commanders.” She informed the Khajiit, “but, please, spare the young Imperial girl, she has a good a heart, I swear!”

Even in the dark, she could feel the scout team giving her daggers. The leader’s icy stare broke her like a vase.

“Please! I beg of you!” She pleaded pathetically. She couldn’t afford to have Sarah’s life taken. “She has a family to return to!”

“Quiet, you Imperial wench! Do we not have families too? What difference does it make? Listen to my word, girl. Don’t force me to end your miserable life.” His cold words tore at her heart. He gestured for his men to move forward, not making a sound and remaining unknown. The scout team parted into groups, surrounding the camp at a distance, the close thick trees providing cover.

Archers locked their arrows onto slow-moving targets, their aim true and keen eyes focused. As if on cue, the Commanding Officer exited his tent, he passed a stern expression over the camp. The leader held up an open palm, then threw his arm toward the camp. The archers released their arrows, each hitting its mark. Valenwood guards drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes, eyes wide with horror. The Valenwood Commanding Officer yelled, waking everybody up in camp, officers emerged from the tent, weapons on hand and soldiers drew their weapons, alert as ever.

The Commanding Officer’s eyes widened as blood blossomed from his tunic, a black arrow pierced through his chest. He dropped to his knees, chaos all about him. The mysterious invaders revealed themselves to be a group of Elsweyrians; despite their numbers, they fought quite well.

Sarah cursed words at Dorcas in the midst of the bloody battle, her eyes filled with betrayal. She wielded her sword, and screamed.

Gideon Hachaliah—Valenwood—Day 2

Gideon followed the Commanding Officer out of the tent. The cold night air consumed him as he emerged from the warmth of the tent.

A young Dunmer guard, nodding his way, “Sir, I –“ His sentence was cut short by a gurgle of blood and sickening crunch of breaking bone as an arrow pierced his neck. The guard’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, before collapsing to the ground, choking on the warm crimson fluid.

The CO swore loudly, “To arms! To arms! We’re under attack!” His face was beet red; a pure rage swirled within as he drew his wicked looking blade. In a flash, one single arrow shoot from the woods, hitting its target – the commanding officer. Blood blossomed from his shirt as he dropped to his knees, weak with agony, clutching his chest.

“Cover me!” The healer barked as he knelt by the commanding officer, placing his hands on the dying man’s chest.

OOC: Weak post, but it works. Also, the spy is to be kept alive. You can do whatever you want with the others.

Weldarion, Valenwood, Day II, around Midnight.

Screams woke him up from his slumber. Before he could even get up arrows pierced the ground around him and he heard people fell down screaming in pain. Merely a minute later he heard the commander scream, “to arms! to arms! We’re under attack!” making him as small as possible he waited a few more seconds to make sure no more arrows would follow.

A roar came up from the attackers while they charged the camp. They had taken out all guards and managed to get close without waking anyone up before the attack. We have been caught by surprise. Weldarion jumped up and drew his short swords. One in each hand the adrenaline took over. He heard the roar of a khajiit behind him and without thinking twice he ducked and turned around only to be greeted by one of the attackers armed with a longsword.

He carefully waited for the khajiit to make the first move. With a roar the khajiit stepped forward attacking with a horizontal slash to Weldarion’s head. He reacted by jumping forward and ducking under the sword. Keeping one eye on the sword he planted the shortsword into the stomach of the khajiit, who stepped back, dropped his sword and fell down on the ground. With a grunt, Weldarion stabbed the heart of the khajiit killing him. “may you find peace.”

He turned to the direction the attackers had come into the camp. He saw his friends, his fellow soldiers, holding of the attackers as long as possible to give everyone a chance to wake up and ready themselves. He slowly exhaled. I guess there is more work to do. He ran toward the defenders and passed a bosmer soldier, who was just ready to help.

“go and defend the Khajiit prisoner. They’ll want to take him. If necessary kill him.” He ordered the bosmer.

“yes, sir!” the soldier turned around and ran towards the place where they kept their prisoners.

He continued running towards the defenders, ready to help. One of the mercenaries was having trouble fighting of a Cathay-raht. Weldarion sneaked up to the Cathay’s back and penetrated his armor. His blades pierced the cats kidneys, he was dead before he hit the ground when the mercenary made use of the moment to chop of the head with his axe.

“thank you.” The mercenary spoke.

“don’t mention it you’ll have plenty of opportunities to save my back this night.” And with that he turned around and faced his next opponent. Thoughts aimed at the battlefield. The only thing on his mind: how to kill without using up much energy.

“If I have to die to night, then I’ll make sure those butt licking cats will remember my name.”

Raven, Valenwood Day 2

After returning to the camp with Kraven, Raven sat down on the cot in her small tent and looked down at her injured arm. That was close. She had been face to face with a tiger before, but she had always kept her cool and won the battle. This time, she had allowed herself to be taken by surprise. If Kraven hadn’t found her, she would have been killed, once her spell wore off the tiger.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and closed her eyes to calm herself. With her mind cleared, Raven conjured up the magicka within herself, bringing it up from her core and then raising her arm to release the healing energy. Like a bright white light, the magicka came up from the palm of her hand and fell over her, healing the bite on her arm and the scratches and bruises she had obtained, as well.

Feeling refreshed, she took out a small cloth and wet it with the water from her canteen. Then she wiped her face and hands clean, before lying down to rest for an hour. She was still shaken from the attack, thinking about how quickly her life could have come to an end. She was determined never to let herself put her guard down too much again. But would it be enough?

The rest of the day passed by without much event. The three who had gone to the nearby town of Thaira returned with provisions, and she noticed that the Dunmer had acquired himself a new suit of armor that looked much more comfortable than that iron junk he had likely brought with him from wherever he was from. Maybe he wasn’t a complete idiot, after all, she thought with a smirk.

She had a meager supper, kept to herself, and retired early that night, eager for a good night’s sleep. However, it was not to be. Sometime after midnight, a loud cry erupted in the camp, “To arms! To arms! We’re under attack!”

Raven’s eyes shot open, and she laid on her cot for a moment, listening to see if she had only been dreaming. But the sounds of a surprise attack surrounded her, and she knew that it was surely not a dream. Alarm rose and adrenaline pumped through her veins, but she would not panic. Not this time. If she panicked, she would be killed very quickly. She had to keep her senses.

An arrow hitting her tent and sticking like a pin in the canvas startled her, and she almost let out a scream. But she kept her silence and breathed carefully, telling herself to remain calm. She felt for her sword at her waist and the dagger in her boot, and then she grabbed her bow and her quiver of arrows and crept to the opening in her tent. She could hear arrows flying, swords clashing, men yelling… A group of Elseweyrians had managed to find them, and a battle was now underway in their camp.

Raven drew an arrow from the quiver on her back and held up her bow, pulling the string back and carefully aiming through the opening in her tent. She could see a Khajiit woman, sword drawn, running at someone, ready to behead them from behind while they fought with another Khajiit. But with the release of her arrow, the Khajiit woman fell instantly, the arrow piercing her skull. A smile crossed Raven’s lips, and she began to pull out another arrow. But she was taken by surprise when a Redguard from the Elseweyr side came up and pulled open the flap of her tent. He had seen her arrow fly, and his sword was drawn, gleaming in the light of Secunda, ready to kill the little Bosmer archer who had thought she was safe.

Raven’s eyes widened and she gasped in surprise, as the Redguard brought his sword down toward her skull. She managed to draw her dagger from her boot in a flash and moved out of the way just in time before the blade would have ended her life. She ducked down and did a spin, going under his outstretched arm, and thrust her ebony dagger into his diaphragm at the base of his rib-cage. It all happened so quickly that the Redguard didn’t have time to react, and Raven dragged the blade downward, disemboweling him in a single deadly swipe. As he began to fall, she moved out of the way, and then she stepped aside and looked at his corpse, now laying over her sleeping cot and bleeding all over. Nice.

Re-sheathing her dagger, Raven pulled out her sword and ran out of the tent and into the heat of the battle, ready to fight or to die. She prayed silently to Mara for protection, asking forgiveness for the life she had just taken, and the lives she might yet take that night. Then she let out a battle cry, raising her sword into the air, and ran at an Elseweyrian soldier who was coming at her with her own blade drawn. Kill or be killed. That was the mindset of war—survival depended on the willingness of a soldier to kill the enemy. It was the terrible necessity of war.

Nee-Wom, inside the Inn, Heimthor

Nee watched the argument bettween Kerris and the innkeeper. It seemed that Kerris wanted his money back, since he had not used the room, and the owner wasn't happy about that.

"No! It is not refundable! you paid the 10 drakes you get the room! What you do and don't do is irrelevant!" the Breton cried. With this, the Imperial started to approach him, probably getting angrier by the second. We do not need any more trouble than we already have...

Nee put his scaled hand on Kerris' shoulder, abruptly stopping his advancement.

"Hey now, don't lose your head", he whispered, while scratching his neck nervously with the other hand. He moved closer to the dust-covered counter, leaning against it. He thought about a way to deal with the situation, but he was not a lizard of numbers. Smiling, he tried to ease the innkeeper.

"Come on now... Thhink about it, the man did not use the room! He had to spend all night, wounded, in a hay bed." Nee stopped, undecided on what to say next. "What if... you give him half the money huh? You won't even need to change the bed or clean the room... that's half the work!"

The Breton did not seem convinced, showing a condescending expression on his face. Nee was starting to get tired of all the talk about money. He hissed angrily, and stomped the floor with his spear, showing his teeth to the tavern owner a little.

"Do you want those 5 drakes that bad? Think about it a little now...." The Breton looked somewhat intimidated. It seemed he was one of those greedy men that liked to play the inflexible merchant but did not have the courage to stand up against two angry soldiers.

"Arh, alright then, take your damn money" He reached to his purse and threw some coins to the counter. Nee watched as Kerris grabbed them.

"Are you going up to pick up the bow then? I'll wait around and then we will head to the smith."

Jo'Khart and Arnand, Heimthor

A soft groan escaped his dried lips as the sunlight bathed the dingy room in morning light that streamed through what was supposedly a window. Arnand thought it was more a hole with an attempted window frame abandoned half way. His eyes cracked open slightly, not opening fully to ward off the stinging rays of light. He lay there for some time, letting his body catch up with his brain as he attempted to piece last nights events back together.

Three empty bottles on the floor next to the bed gave him a pretty good idea. Now where was Jo'Khart? He sat up to look for his friend and nearly fell right out when the pile of blankets next to him groaned a with a purr. He regained his composure and looked over to see a slender, tan tail peaking out from the sheets.

Well there you go. he thought to himself. The Khajiit woman moved again, so Arnand silently slipped out of the bed. He wore only his enchanted gauntlet, but dressed quickly. He grabbed up his weapons and armor in one hand, slid his boots on and tip-toed to the door. When he stood on the other side, he breathed more easily and made his way downstairs.

Jo'Khart wasn't there but he moved over to the innkeeper. Two of his companions were there, Nee and Kerris, but he hardly acknowledged them or the argument they were having with the innkeeper. He simply plopped twenty coins down in front of the Breton.

"For the booze," he explained by pointing to half, "and for her tip." he finished, pointing to the other half. With a nod to his companions he left the inn and staggered at how bright the day was. Or perhaps it was just bright to him.

"You know, I don't believe friends make their friends find a poorly locked door to enter at night and sleep on some old Khajiits bookshelf."

Arnand turned to his left and walked up to his friend who was perched on a pile of crates that must have held supplies for the inn. He smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

"It's quite alright I suppose but was that really a wise choice with the march ahead of us?"

Arnand said nothing but merely groaned as his head pounded a little harder. He spotted the water canteen with the bag that Jo'Khart must have carried all night and drained half of it in one gulp.

"If you'd like I can perform that spe--"

"No! Never again!"

"As you wish but you will not be drinking all the water today." he said, snatching the canteen from his friend quickly to emphasize his point. "Shall we wait here then for our slow companions?"

Arnand looked around, and instead moved into the alleyway between the inn and another building where he sighed as the shade offered his head relief. "Here."

The Dagi shook his head and moved over to his friend, keeping his small hands clutched firmly on the canteen.

Varon Athren, Valenwood Day 2

Upon their arrival back at the camp, Varon and the others split up and went about their day with little event. Varon was thoroughly pleased with his new pit armor that was common in the deserts of Elseweyr and the jungles of Valenwood—for good reason, it seemed. He was also thoroughly pleased with his sack full of dried meat! Seasoned to perfection, it tasted delicious. But he needed to make it last, so he would have to eat it sparingly.

Sitting on his cot under a tree that evening, he pulled out the miniature portrait of Elvasa and gazed sorrowfully upon her sweet face. How he missed her….

Hearing the crack of some twigs, he looked up and saw Raven nearby, walking away from the fire where she had been standing. She was nothing at all like his sweet Elvasa—the purest soul in all of Nirn, he was sure. But Raven was certainly attractive and unique. She had a strength about her that he admired. And he imagined, as he watched her lean against a massive tree at the edge of camp and look up at the sky that beneath that tough exterior lay a gentle soul, as well.

Raven must have sensed him watching her again, because she turned her head and looked directly at him. He felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and turned away, but he soon heard her footsteps approaching from behind him.

“That armor looks much better than that iron stove you wore before,” she said, stopping beside his cot.

Varon still felt somewhat awkward, and he cleared his throat, turning to look at her. “Yes, well…the other armor had belonged to my father, so it was hard letting it go. But I needed something lighter, so I didn’t really have a choice.”

He offered a weak smile as he noticed her continue to stare at him, as if she was trying to figure him out. Or did he have food left on his face? He self-consciously reached up to feel around, finding that there was nothing there, except for the stubble of a beard started to grow, and he realized he could use a shave.

Raven seemed amused suddenly and she looked down to hide her face, before saying, “You look good with a moustache and beard. It suits you.”

With that, the Bosmer woman walked away, and Varon was left even more confused than before. That was…strange and rather unexpected….

Shortly after that exchange, Varon noticed Raven go into her small tent for the night. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he decided to lie down to sleep as well, as the jaunt to Thaira and back had been quite exhausting. Almost as soon as he closed his eyes—at least it felt that way, though he had been asleep for a few hours—he was startled awake by yelling and the sound of arrows whizzing by.

“To arms! To arms! We’re under attack!” someone yelled, off in the distance.

Varon jumped up from his cot and was further startled when an arrow hit the cot right where he had just been laying. His eyes went wide when he realized it would have been a lethal shot to the heart, had he not moved when he did. But there wasn’t time to sit there and worry over what might have been—they were under attack, and he jumped into action. Drawing his sword, he began running casting destruction spells at enemies who were at a distance, and using his sword against those who came near….

Daenalin & Kraven, Valenwood ambush.

Kraven watched from far off as Raven took care of her wounds delicately. Soon after she washed herself and went to take a nap. Kraven was leaning down on the tree. His wounds were healing naturally without any use of magicka. But it took awhile, however it was certainly faster than any human. The Imperial also saw Daenalin return from the forest with belly short to bursting. He has had his fill of food and arrived with heavy measured steps. The same boyish grin on his face. Yet a boy, Kraven thought as he watched from afar as his bosmer comrade went straight for a tree to rest. He looked upon the sky and noticed it was near to rain. He smiled, knowing his speculation was true. Happy, but tired, Kraven went to fill his stomach with some food. He poured the oats into the wooden bowl, along with goat's milk. Slowly, he mixed and grinded the food to make a sweet delicious porridge. Soon after, Kraven sat alongside Daenalin, for many hours they spoke of old stories of their days when they were gladiators in the Kvatch arena. How often they nearly faced death, sometimes by their own hand. After their speech ran short, they went to slumber. Kraven made his way toward the netting bed and slept.

****
The Imperial expected the night to come off as calm and swift, but that was simply not the case. The call to arms was announced and the entire camp was bombarded with sharp falling arrows. Kraven immediately rolled over the net and took cover, his natural instinct was to reach for his spear. He briefly noticed Weldarion attack a khajiiti male. For a quick instant moment, he noticed something eerily similar with him. The manner he attacked, the precise movement in which he struck. It was all too familiar. Wasting no more time, Kraven Desselius held his spear tightly and jumped into the fray. As the lightning struck the sky in a thunderous roar, the Lycanthropic Imperial unleashed his fury against the enemy. The first enemy was a man, a khajiiti to be precise. He wielded a spear in equal size to Kraven, except the enemy wielded one made of wood. He attacked with furious precise attacks, left-right-left-over-down. He swung his wooden spear with speed. Kraven could only go on the defensive, dodging his attacks and leaping to safety. When an opening could be exploited, Kraven attacked him by thrusting his spear, which the khajiit counter-attacked with a powerful kick to Kraven's chest upon deflecting the silver spear's tip. Kraven fell back to the floor and rolled back onto his knees the moment the opponent stabbed the ground in hopes to pierce Kraven. To his advantage, Kraven was able to break the spear tip with his elbow as it came crashing down to sever the sharpest point of his enemy's weapon. Right after, Kraven unleashed his own offensive blows he memorized and learned from the Bloodworks arena in the Imperial City.

Without weapon, his opponent grabbed a steel shield from a fallen bosmer. He held it high as Kraven used all of his strength to try and pierce past the shield to little avail. Knowing his further attacks would be wasted, Kraven exploited an opening. The Imperial struck down beneath the khajiit's legs with his spear in one hand. As the enemy blocked, Kraven used his other hand to throw a punch against his opponent's face. The blow was struck and Kraven was able to use his spear to slash the opponent's chest. Weakened by the attack, the feline fell to his knees only to be struck with a spear tip to the briast. The Imperial roared as his enemy was defeated. He noticed around him that the bosmeri soldiers were dying while some fought valiantly. Daenalin fired his arrow repeatedly at any threat that tried to pierce Kraven's back as he fought against an individual. The little bosmer hid himself atop the tree where he usually slept. There he had an advantage as he shot his arrows at the invading forces.

Kraven basked in the glory of battle. if only there was a huge roaring crowd of cheering citizens to marvel at his every strike, his every deflection and every life that he took in honor of the arena. But this was different. This was the wilderness...the jungles of Valenwood. Not the arena, a place where men became legends. If he died, he would not be remembered as a fierce warrior, but a simple man who fought for his life. That fact alone gave Kraven an edge on his victories. One day I shall be counted among Hircine's greatest hunters in the Hunting Grounds in the afterlife. But not today...not today.He thought. His thought reflected back to the first week of him being purchased by a new House in Morrowind. Redoran trained their men as gladiators to fight and die in the arena.

It was clear as a day. The flaming Magnus rays beating down upon them. The Dunmer trainer sparred against Kraven with wooden swords with sharp edges etched in steel. Kraven was handed a small wooden shield and wooden short-sword to defend himself. The weak and skinny Imperial began the relentless strikes that seemed to flare all over the place. He lacked form and stance, and therefore quickly was quickly overpowered when the trainer disarmed him and dealt a powerful blow to his shield, knocking the skinny Imperial down upon the hot sands.

"You charge like a crazed Kagouti. Absent skill," Shouted the trainer, awaiting for the bleeding Kraven to get up to fight again. "When drawn to a stronger opponent, draw the enemy to you. Then counter."

The skinny Imperial did as he was told. He began the attack which was quickly outmatched by the large muscular Dunmer. Seemingly weakened by the attacks, he retreated back onto the defensive with blocks and frightened dodges. As the Dunmer trainer approached, Kraven performed a spinning attack with his sword, disarming the Dunmer teacher and simultaneously smashing his wooden shield to his teacher's face, drawing blood from his lips. The Dunmer spat blood and stared at Kraven and nodded respectfully, mentally applauding his skill. Even as a slave, Kraven had a measure of treatment.

Meldor, Valenwood; Camp

After arriving at camp, the group split up and Meldor went his own way, giving what wasn't his to his companions and finding Kraven to give him what he asked for. Besides that, the day was quite and everyone enjoyed peace, perhaps too much.

When night crept it's tail up on the camp once more, Meldor knew he couldn't do another night of watch as it was too boring to stay awake once more so he decided to let his comrades take that shift, a decision Meldor would regret with much hatred. He found his way to a huge tree not too far away from camp and climbed it to the very top and made him a cozy little makeshift bed. He laid there for some time, thinking about the world that was out there he had never had the chance to experience. Perhaps after this war, I'll change my ways. With the help of the sounds of the nocturnal that reminded him off his home, he soon fell into a deep slumber, one that was certainly deserved.

Around midnight that night, he was awaken by screaming as the commanding officer screamed,

"“To arms! To arms! We’re under attack!”"

Meldor jumped with a start and panting heavily, sweat dripping down his nose and onto his lips, giving him that sour taste in his mouth. He didn't believe they were under attack, even though all of his senses told him they were but he couldn't bare himself to look out over the camp. When he heard more screams and the sounds of warfare, he knew this wasn't a dream and he had to react or his comrades would surely die. He picked up his bow and quiver and looked out from the tree to see Khajiits moving closer and closer to his friends as they battled back with all the strength they had left in their bodies.

Knowing this was the defining moment, Meldor knocked in an arrow and quickly surveyed the field. He found a broad shouldered Khajiit ordering his members into battle and knew instantly he found their commander. He raised his bow slightly to make the shot and with all his strength pulled his string as far as it would go, nearly shattering the bow in the flexing. He took a slow and deep breathe and as he exhaled smoothly, he released. As he watched the arrow fly through the air, it was as if time itself slowed to a mere crawl and he could recount all the beings he killed with this bow. He cringed for a moment but when he saw the arrow pierce the right eye socket of the Khajiits head, he knew he had done the right thing.

The Khajiit fell to the dirt, never knowing where the arrow came from. But the victory was short lived as time snapped back into reality and his comrades quickly took notice of where the arrow had come from. Not ten seconds after killing him, arrows pounded the tree left and right and the hope he had was to stay completely still. The tree's shade along with the night helped him hide in the shadows with his blackened armor that was designed for such a situation. But his luck wasn't all too good, he did take an arrow to his right thigh but he managed to stay silent as the arrows continued to pound the tree. He knocked another arrow in and looked over the battlefield once more. With their archers concentrated on him, his comrades had a better chance of fighting the attackers off.

With a quick look, he saw a Khajiit mercenary sneaking into the camp and edging closer and closer to their captive. The poor fool that was standing guard wouldn't stand a chance if he didn't know. Meldor knew that he didn't have enough room to prepare for such a long distance shot, especially if their archers kept this up and so he decided to do something a bit more tricky. He shot his arrow but it missed the target obviously, that wasn't what he was hoping. The arrow narrowly passed by the defender and he turned to see the arrow as most people do in near death calls, but this time he turned to notice the mercenary and quickly fell him with his sword. A smile erupted on his face as arrows flew by with each passing second.

Kerris Vinchis - Heimthor

Kerris was glad when Nee-Wom convinced the Innkeeper to hand over the five septims, and he grabbed the coins, slotting them in his coin-pouch. Then the Argonian asked,

"Are you going up to pick up the bow then? I'll wait around and then we will head to the smith."

"Yes, I shall, you wait here, I will not be long." Kerris replied, making his way up the stairs, but halfway up he turned and said. "but while you are down here can you ask this fellow if there is a grocer in town?"

Kerris finished climbing the stairs and made his way to the end of the corridor, he opened the door of his room, which happened to be unlocked, and he spotted his ebony bow and his 3 quivers of arrows. Kerris strung the bow and slung it over his shoulders, and shouldered two of the quivers, he would likely sell the other, if he ran out of arrows he would always have his claymore.

He descended the stairs and asked Nee-Wom; "So, is there a grocer in town?"

Nee-Wom, Inn, Heimthor, Elsweyr

"While you are down here can you ask this fellow if there is a grocer in town?" Kerris asked, as he started to climb the stairs. Nee nodded with consent. Turning to the innkeeper again, he proceeded to ask him.

"Well... you heard the man. Isss there any place where we can get suppliess?" Nee decided to sit on one of the stool benches by the counter while waiting for Kerris. He scratched his leg a bit. The wound still hitched, but it was mostly healed by now. By what the herbalist had said, he only needed to apply a lotion to the surface of his leg for a few days, to help it cicatrize faster. Absently, he waited for the Breton's answer.

"Hm, supplies... you mean dried food and such? Well as a matter of fact, you can acquire them right here!" He smiled greedily at the prospect of making money at the expense of the travellers, his eyes shining. However, one man that was sitting by the other end of the inn suddenly shouted in a loud, deep voice.

"Dun listen to him! That ol' fool sells what he buys at double the price! Visit our grocer, he has a store just next to the smith." The innkeeper mumbled curses, angry with the customer, while the man laughed. It seemed like the relationship bettween him and the Breton wasn't exactly one of friendship. Nee, surprised, thanked the stranger, and turned around to see Kerris descending the stairs, carrying his gear.

"So, is there a grocer in town?" He asked.

"So it seemsss. Let'sss get going, we've had enough of this inn." With these words he gazed menacingly at the innkeeper, who was pretending to mind his own business, cleaning the obviously dirty jug he had been holding for the last few minutes while whistling a melody.

He started to walk towards the exit, Kerris walking behind him. Opening the door, he shielded his eyes from the sun rays, while hissing. I guess I'll never get used to this much heat. Turning to the Imperial, he spoke.

"The grocery store is apparently next to the smith. Lead the way then... I think I will get some dried meat in there myself."

Daenalin & Kraven Desselius, Valenwood Ambush.

Daenalin climbed down from the tree tops as soon as his position was compromised. He ran around the camp, shooting his arrows at whatever individual he perceived as an enemy. He stealthily blended with the bushes and unleashed two arrows within a five second count. After he finished, he ran to another area and continued his assault. In the arena, Daenalin was better known to be skilled with the bow. Famed for stalking his opponent with an invisibility potion, he hid and revealed himself when was a few feet away behind his match. What he lacked in strength, he made up for in speed and cunning. Sadly, Daenalin had no potion with him. The bosmer ran through the forest for a new location to shoot the arrow. As soon as he pulled back the string, an enemy came down upon him. A mercenary of the opposite team leaped on top of him. It was a tall Altmer. Although he lacked any weapons, he bore powerful magic powers. The short-haired Altmer threw forth his hands and unleashed a barrage of fire. Daenalin dropped his bow and arrow and ran away. He pulled out his hunting dagger and tried to find a spot to ambush his pursuer. But every turn he made, he seemed to be nearly blown to a pulp by a powerful fire blast from a mage with poor aim. Each direction meant dust and dead leaves blowing up into the air from the crazed mercenary mage. He took cover behind the bark of a huge tree and hoped to the gods that he would not be discovered. Even when hidden, Daenalin began thinking of a way to outsmart the psychotic spell-caster. Damn blasted fool with his witchy powers of flame! Daenalin complained.
****

Kraven threw his spear at two incoming enemies. He missed both of them by inches! The long-haired Imperial pulled out his longsword from the sheathe on his back and met the charging khajiiti warriors. Words of wisdom echoed in his mind like an unending chant: An attack must be grounded by proper stance. Allow advantage to your back-side and expect to have it pierced.

The pouring rain was the striking opposite of the Morrowind sun burning down upon his whip-stained back. But the scenario was the same as it had always been; Battle. Bloodshed. Survival. Victory. Kraven made sure his back was turned to where no enemy stood. He stood facing his two opponents, one which wielded a spear while the other held a steel longsword. They had the advantage. Kraven never had his back exposed, for he had been stabbed there before--both literally and figuratively speaking. He counter-attacked with his silver longsword, first making sure he disabled the enemy with the highest chance at killing him. He swung his silver longsword horizontally, cutting the spear in half, sending splinters all over the air. Moments after, Kraven blocked the initial strike from the second khajiiti male, performing a downward stroke to maneuver the attack away from his as possible. It was quickly followed by a brutal head-butt on Kraven's part. He fought valiantly for more than forty-seconds until his enemies doubled on him. The spear wielding khajiit used a short-sword to attempt end Kraven's life while his comrade attacked the Imperial from the side. Kraven felt his lower back side burn in a fiery pain as steel was embedded in his left. Luckily, it wasn't silver otherwise it would be far more fatal. The Imperial screamed in pain as the blade was pushed deeper. Kraven used his elbow to smack the khajiit in the face before backing away to safety. Yet again more words given to him in his days of the arena rang clear: A gladiator must embrace misery and suffering until the life escapes from his worthless body.

Kraven clenched his fist and grinded his teeth. With renown might, he yanked the steel blade away from his side and charged at the enemy. His silver longsword clanking against the enemy longsword. The khajiiti backed away from Kraven and met his end from an incoming arrow to the back. Not paying attention to the fallen feline, Kraven forced his attention to the last remaining enemy on his side. He sought to press victory and win. He swung his sword in confusing patterns at the unexpected cat-man. And as he charged at the aggressor, Kraven made his strike true with a sweeping motion of the sword that sliced the cat's stomach open. It wasn't a clean death, but it was quick. After watching more soldiers battle the enemy, Kraven at last remembered the reason they attacked. The commander!

The Imperial ran to the fortress to make sure the commander was not liberated. Kraven dodged arrows and did he best to remain far from sight. But it wasn't hard spotting a tall long-haired tanned-skinned Imperial man running about. He arrived inside and saw the bleeding corpses of freshly killed wood elves. He looked up to see an Imperial woman freeing the prisoner. Kraven rushed to the scene with his silver long-sword in hand. His powerful legs taking him to fast speeds as he showed up before she could remove the shackles from his arms and feet. His blade's tip slowly touched the back of her head. He bared his teeth and snarled angrily.

"You so much as think of doing something foolish and you will find your brain upon the sands."

Varon Athren, Valenwood ambush

Varon felt like he was on a roll, moving swiftly in his light leather armor, swinging his sword through the air almost gracefully as he clashed with the foe. With his spells and his dagger to aid him, he felt a rush of excitement rather than fear, and he was certain nothing could touch him that night. He ran into the battle, yelling and making battle cries, and his ego was probably bigger than ever. Yes, he felt like some kick-ass warrior--until his foolhardiness nearly got him killed.

"Haha! Take that, you over-grown house cat!" he yelled, as he fought with a Khajiit soldier. The soldier glared at him with yellow eyes, and fought with the strength of a true warrior. But Varon was certain he could best him, and he was almost careless in his movements.

"You are staring into the face of death!" hissed the Khajiit soldier, with something of a smile on his mouth. His eyes narrowed on something behind Varon.

Varon believed he was only trying to trick him, and he raised his sword, saying, "Wanna bet?"

Before he could swing his sword, Varon felt the cool, sharpness of an arrow pierce his flesh, right below his knee. He gasped as he dropped his sword and fell to his knees, looking up at the Khajiiti soldier who was ready to finish him off.

*****

Raven, Valenwood ambush

Arrows were flying in every direction as Raven fought hard against the enemy. She could see her fellow soldiers all around her, fighting and dying, and she prayed that she would be one of the lucky ones to make it out alive. This would not be her time to cross into the realm of spirits. Not today. She had to survive.

As she came up against a towering Nord, while continuing to dodge the numerous arrows that flew in her direction, some bouncing off her sword, others missing her by barely an inch, coming so close that she could feel the breeze of the arrow flying past her face. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she tried not to betray her fear in the face of the Nord giant who was closing in on her. He had no doubt in his mind that he was going to crush the little wood elf with his hammer--and Raven was certain that he easily could. The only way she could survive against him would be to out-wit him and use her small size to her advantage.

Chuckling with a cocky smirk on his face, the Nord spoke to her, saying, "Get ready to dance, tree-hugger! I'll try to make this quick--like a fly on the back of my hand."

Raven refused to give him a response, knowing that she couldn't waste her time thinking about a good come-back. That was what he wanted her to do, and it would be just what he needed to take her down without much effort. But she would not give him that opportunity. All she was thinking about was herself and him--a dance to the death, and she was determined to be the last one standing.

Watching his movements closely, she was able to distinguish the exact moment he planned to strike, and by that time she already had a plan in mind. Just before his huge, bulky arms swung his giant hammer toward her head, she saw his shoulder flex, and she had managed to dodge out of the way before his hammer even came close to getting her. Then she swept around him, plunging the blade of her sword into his backside. The man roared painfully and whipped his arm back, attempting to knock her down. But Raven was too quick, and she dropped to the ground, rolling onto her back and driving the ebony blade of her dagger up between his legs. Before he fell, she was up again, pulling her sword out of his back and taking off his head in a sickening crunch.

"Brains over brawn," she said, looking down at his beheaded corpse. Then she flicked her long-ponytail back and turned to see the dunmer, Varon, a short distance away, take an arrow to his leg. Alarmed when he fell to his knees, a Khajiit soldier before him, Raven dashed toward them, hoping to get there in time to save one of her fellow soldiers. The Khajiit was ready to end Varon's life, but as Raven came near, pulling an arrow to kill the archer who was behind them, she yelled, "Over here, kitty kitty!"

Her racial taunt worked to distract the Khajiit swordsman, and at the same moment, her arrow hit its mark. The archer dropped to the ground, and Raven pulled her sword out to slash the Khajiit across the shoulder, nearly severing his arm. He snarled viciously and moved his sword into his left hand--apparently he was able to fight with both arms. Then he came at her, and she was able to block his heavy blade with her own sword, using all her might to keep him at bay. Varon had just enough wit left to throw a lightning spell at the Khajiit, sending him to the ground, writhing from the electricity that ran through his body. Foam and blood came from his mouth, and Raven was shocked by the power of Varon's spell.

The soldier was dead, burned alive from his insides out, and Varon believed themselves to be in the clear. He smiled at Raven, and said, "Hey, thanks. But I could have handled that one. I had a plan."

Somehow she doubted that, but there was no time for debate. "Behind you!" she shouted.

But before Varon had time to react, he was run through by a short-sword, and the air was knocked out of him from the piercing blow. Raven's eyes were wide and she gasped in alarm as Varon dropped to the ground, too injured to do anything and likely going into shock. Then the enemy soldier came at her, but she fought with a fury unlike any she had ever known. It was as if all the pain, all the anger, all the injustice in her life came together in this once moment, releasing itself in a torrent of rage against the soldier who had stabbed Varon. She didn't even know where it all came from, but she didn't even think about it. She just yelled fiercely and brought the enemy down almost too quickly. Then she ran to Varon, to see if he was still alive.

Much to her relief, he was still awake and breathing, but she could see by his face that he was in a great deal of pain and unable to get up on his own. There wasn't enough time for her to use a healing spell in those moments, so she did the only thing she could--she pulled him up by his shoulders and began dragging him away, hoping to find shelter from the battle long enough to heal him, if only enough to keep him alive.

Kerris Vinchis - Heimthor


"So it seemsss. Let'sss get going, we've had enough of this inn." The Argonian replied, eyeing the innkeeper, who was apparently minding his own business, cleaning a rather dirty jug, and whistling a melody.

Nee-Wom started to walk towards the exit, and Kerris followed behind him. Nee-Wom opened the door, and shielded his reptilian eyes from the sun, and hissing. Nee-Wom turned to face Kerris and spoke,

"The grocery store is apparently next to the smith. Lead the way then... I think I will get some dried meat in there myself."

"Well, good thing it is next to the smith, eh?" Kerris chuckle, and added, "we have less to walk that way."

Kerris greeting Jo'Khart on his way out, "hey! If it isn't my little magic friend, I'm off to get supplies, I suppose we should leave rather soon, unless we want those Bosmer bastards to get away." Kerris went through the doorway, and sheilded his own eyes from the oppressive rays.

Kerris walked through the town, and entered the smith, thankfully nobody was inside, Kerris called for service.

"Smithy! I would like my armor and my claymore now!"

Weldarion, Valenwood, around midnight.

He was heart was pounding heavily in his chest and he was catching some breath after he took out some sort of quadrupedal khajiit. He walked away from the middle of the battle letting someone else take his place. He had already lost his two shortswords and replaced them with a new silver longsword. He took some seconds to look around to see how they were doing.

He saw Varon getting stabbed in the back by an enemy soldier, who was then quickly dispatched of by an enraged Raven. I don’t want to get on her bad side. She took Varon up as good as possible and tried to drag him away somewhere save. He then turned around to look back at the battle, just in time to see another khajiit coming up at him armed with a mean looking longsword.

Without saying a word the cathay attacked with a speed Weldarion hadn’t expect from his opponent. The only thing he could do was step back and defend. Parry high, parry low, evade the shield bashes. He had no time for a counter attack and was driven backwards. He had to keep all his concentration on the fast and strong attacks of the khajiit so he stopped keeping an eye on the ground around him. He failed to see the body of an imperial behind him and tripped and fell on the ground losing his only sword. From the mouth of the cathay came a victorious roar when he stepped forward and held his sword high above his head to finish Weldarion off.

He started crawling back scanning the ground for a weapon. He could see dead bodies all around him so he decided to try to reach one. He rolled to his right and felt the air move when the blade of the cathay just missed him. He got up and stumbled as good as he could to the closest body. The cathay punshed him on his back making him fall over again. Just in front of him was a crossbow ready to fire. He picked it up, turned around and just as the khajiit swung his blade above his head he aimed and pulled the trigger. The bolt flew straight through the khajiits throat, making him fall backwards on the ground.

He stood up again, breathing heavy, heart pounding in his chest, hurt from all the bruises and cuts on his body, and looked around. The camp was in total destruction. Dead bodies lay everywhere. fallen comrades and killed enemies, all are the same when dead. He heard people screaming, others roaring victory, and others crying while they try to stop the bleeding from cut of limps and other wounds. He had seen his fair share of blood and battles but he would probably never get used to it.

He got pulled back to reality when an arrow nearly hit him. He turned around looking for someone who might need help. The game of lights made from lightning and fire spells caught his eye. He saw a bosmer, who he recognized to be Daenalin, running and hiding behind trees while being hunted by a wizard.

He ran in the direction of the wizard staying at his back, hoping he had no life detecting spells, while he was trying to load the crossbow he picked up. With a lot of cursing it got loaded and was ready to kill. He carefully stepped closer and aimed at the wizards back, following his movements. When the wizard stood still he quickly pulled the trigger. The bolt flew straight and knocked the wizard on his face. While loading a new bolt, which went faster the second time, he ran up to the wizard who was still laying down on his front side and aimed the crossbow at his head. Turning away not to see the damage he pulled the trigger for the third time. Completely destroying the head.

He looked at Daenalin and gave him a grin, “annoying spell throwing fool.” And looked at the dead mage. He stupidly failed to see the khajiit behind him getting ready to strike him down with his sword.

Raven and Varon, Valenwood ambush

Raven managed to drag Varon away from the camp, to the nearby river. A waterfall cascaded over the cliffside, and she left Varon momentarily to see if there was a cavern behind the falls. Sure enough, there was a small cavern, and she felt relieved. She was exhausted from the battle, and she wiped sweat off her forehead as she bent down to rest her hands on her knees. She had to keep going. Varon was going to die without healing. From the look and sound of the battle, they would need all the man-power they could have once this was over. She feared they would be lost to the enemy.

Going back over to Varon, who was barely conscious by this point, and she checked over his wound. It was gushing crimson, and it looked pretty bad. She prayed to Mara for enough time to heal him, and also that the enemy would not be able to follow her footsteps and the trail of blood left by Varon, to find them and finish them off.

Gritting her teeth, Raven pulled him up again to drag him toward the waterfall cavern. Once they were safely hidden behind the rushing water of the falls, she laid him down by the wall and dropped to her knees in exhaustion. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off, and her whole body ached from the extreme physical exertion of battle. She tried to steady her breathing, but she shook all over, and she felt like she was about to pass out. No, I have to keep going. I have to keep the dunmer alive...

Forcing herself to crawl toward him, Raven knelt down and gave herself another moment to catch her breath. Then, breathing in deeply, she summoned the healing powers from within and carefully placed her hands over Varon's wound. Healing was the one area of magic she was truly skilled in. With everything else, she was barely a novice, except for her alchemy skills. But she was weak with exhaustion, and so her spells manifested in a weakened state. Her first spell barely healed him. So she cast it again, getting a little stronger. Still, it was not enough. One more time, and she managed to get the wound healed enough for the bleeding to slow, but it still had a ways to go. She was sure she had healed him enough to survive through the rest of the night, provided infection didn't set it. Satisfied and thoroughly exhausted, Raven pulled herself up and went to look out from behind the water. She could still hear the faint sounds of battle over the roaring of the falls, and she could see flashes of lightning and blasts of fire from spellcasters and wizards.

May the Nine protect and guide you to victory, my friends.

Then she turned and went back into the cavern, dropping tiredly to the stone floor and lying down to sleep.

Meldor, Valenwood; Camp

After what seemed like forever waiting for the barrages of arrows to stop, they finally did, allowing Meldor to freely move down the tree. The arrow in his right leg had grown ever more painful, even after breaking the larger part of it off to move a bit more freely. He made his way down onto the battlefield in pouring rain, which was now just a pit of mud and he knocked in arrow after arrow, helping his comrades win this battle. He had already seen Varon take a deep wound and Raven drag him off to safety, Kraven had already taken a likewise wound but managed to remain able. One strong ass Imperial.

Up in the tree he saw his friend Daenalin having trouble with a mage but when he got down, he saw Weldarion had finished the poor fool off with a nice bolt directly to the skull. What Weldarion didn't know however was that there was another Khajiit rushing his flank, preparing to assault him and without hesitation he knocked in his arrow and adjusted the bow to fly straight and true to it's target. The arrow flew over the battlefield with a majestic aura, piercing the small raindrops before they made it to the ground.

But Meldor didn't have time to watch his shot, as as soon as he released the arrow, he felt the presence of an enemy behind him and he turned only to find another Khajiit beginning a sideways slash in an attempt to behead Meldor. He quickly dove into the ground, mud splashing wildly, covering his eyes and he knew if he stayed still he was a goner. He rolled to the right and he heard the Khajiit curse in his native tongue. When he felt a bit safer, he jumped up and wiped the mud from his face, which had now turned his blackened armor to a brown color that slightly resembled something disgusting. He saw a fallen Bosmer next to him the and he quickly dropped his bow and picked up the mer's short sword as well as drawing his on dagger in his left hand.

The Khajiit did the most common assault for an idiot in battle, he charged right at Meldor with his blade in both hands over his head, preparing to slice downwards in hopes of splitting the Bosmer in half. Meldor raised his weapons to make an x and the enemy's sword fit right into place, stopping the blow instantly. Though there were other repercussions. The strike had vibrated his entire body, shocking the very bones deep within his tissue but he didn't have long to wait.

He used his good leg and kicked the fool in the gut, staggering him slightly. Meldor flipped the dagger in his hand and caught the blade perfectly. With a show of strength even the Gods would envy, he hurled the dagger deep into the Khajiits forehead, ending his miserably life once and for all He didn't take time to recover however, he dropped the short sword and grabbed his bow, going back to his duties as an archer to make sure the infantry were not flanked.

Valenwood Ambush, Daenalin.

Daenalin had his life saved from another bosmer he saw as Weldarion. He picked himself up and began dusting off the flames that licked his loincloth. Luckily, it was raining hard, keeping him wet enough to extinguish the fire. He noticed that Weldarion lacked the strength to witness the damage done to an opponent. He wouldnt last a day in the spectactor seats of the Arena in the Imperial City, thought Daenalin. Smiling, Daenalin jumped to his feet and patted Weldarion on the shoulder.

"Gratitudee, brother!" Daenalin said, but with a smiled turned to frown as he saw a khajiit behind his savior with a sword. Daenalin quickly shoved Weldarion to the ground by tackling him to the side before the khajiit could make his blow count. Before the khajiit turned around, Daenalin had already brought out his hunting dagger and called Weldarion to help him bring down the tall cat-man. He picked up the staff of the fallen mage and tried to wield it by reading the inscriptions on it. The Khajiiti warrior screeched and attacked both Weldarion and Daenalin.