Burd's sword was out in a blink at the mage's words. They had all returned to the common room bringing Ocato with them, presumably to work on both patients at once. "Maybe you are the poisoner, whelp!" He sneered, leveling the blade in his target's direction, "I haven't liked your look since you first assaulted my eyes with your slimy presence." He was also alarmed to note that this apparent cure he was toting could possibly have narcotic effects judging by his use of it on himself. "You'll put that bottle carefully on the ground and stand fast until I'm told what it is by someone more reputable than yourself."

"Hmm, let me see" Byron said patronisingly "If I WERE an esteemed part of the Dark Brotherhood, do you think I would be stupid enough to drop that fact into casual conversation? And last time I checked, I was asleep all of last night. The only one who was absent for a significant amount of time was YOU, you stumbled back in the very early morning, drunk, angry at the people making you go to foreign lands in search of a man who will boss you around in the future" At this point Byron had started to think of how quickly he could knock out the idiot with a blast of fire, and he decided it would be pretty easy.

"And it's a common fact that potions designed to relieve pain are narcotic when heated, just ask our Alchemist friend" He was now in full bile and spite mode, his teeth practically baring at the oaf who DARED questioned his loyalty to the Empire. He considered burning this cretin to ashes where he stood, but decided that if he were it would just strengthen the man's ridiulous theory. "And by the way, I felt the need to fluff the edges with that narcotic because I was getting frustrated with being woken up to get into a situation that can be solved by the Alchemist, who mentioned that this poison takes a while to actually kill the victim, around a week? Surely if I wanted her dead, I'd wait until we were in Morrowind, in the middle of nowhere instead of a castle full of armed guards?" He sneered, his rat-like features full of hate, "Now put the sword away, and stop trying to play the big man"

Tobrecan tended to be a heavy sleeper. He woke now, long after the others had already awoken. The young Imperial sat up, rubbing his neck, sore from sleeping on the floor. He stood and looked around, noticing that everyone was gone. 'Oh, tell me they didn't leave without me!' He thought, quickly throwing his armor on and buckling his sword around his waist.

He shouldered his bag and walked out into the hall, finding the others gathered around two people on the floor. One of them was Ocato, and the other was Crow. As he saw them, he saw his brother lying on the ground in their place before he shook his head and went back to reality. 'Still sleepy I guess' he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

He walked over, wondering what had happened, deeming it poison by what he saw. He started thinking what had already been thought, what alchemical ingredients would help before he realized that they had already called in an alchemist. Tobrecan sighed, feeling useless, and went to lean against a wall.

EDIT: Stupidity on my part, location of the group

OOC: Polish... they are in the main hall.

IC: "He isn't of the Dark Brotherhood, sir." Eilonwy remarked from her kneeling position beside Crow. "I know him, and while he may be an arrogant ass, he has enough morality to refrain from the likes of that lot." She shrugged, looking at Byron. "Or, at least, won't use their methods. Baron's not that subtle, obviously."

"Quite obviously." Fraius snorted.

"So what we have knowledge of, then, is that the poison takes one week to kill the victim. We are not about to get any information from either of these victims, and our gracious guards have yet to find the culprit." Don Leon spoke up where he sat on the floor, a piece of thin rope being uncoiled at his feet. He seemed to be inspecting the length of it for soundness and checking the length itself as he spoke. "The culprit has quiet possibly vacated the area. Therefore, we must bring the culprit back."

"And how do you mean to do this?" Lyssa asked curiously. Don Leon did not look up, and continued inspecting his rope. "Do you have some sort of plan?"

"Yes, I do." Don Leon replied curtly, reaching the end of his rope and nodding to himself. "It will require a room at a local inn, several able-bodied strong men capable of deception, and someone to act as the bait." He began to coil up the rope. "I propose we summon the Dark Brotherhood, requesting to kill someone. There was an article in the Black Horse Courier a few years back, explaining the signs to look out for, when someone was performing a Dark Brotherhood summoning. I am afraid my memory of said article is hazy, but if anyone else remembers it, do share. We will also require someone who has recently been holding a grudge against someone else." He spoke this matter-of-factly, this summoning of an assassin to actually make a contract to kill another person.

But only because he had no plans of actually sealing a contract. No, his plan would prevent the meeting from occurring, from the very moment the assassin arrived.

Sid's attention was raptly focused on Don Leon, as the enigmatic Imperial told the rest of the group of his plan, and the requirements to make it feasible. "We will also require someone who has recently been holding a grudge against someone else," he added finally, the last of his ingredients for deception, as it were. This made perfect sense, obviously; the Brotherhood wasn't foolish, and he was reasonably certain they would recognize a client with no genuine motive.

Fortunately, Sid had ample reason to see a number of past associates dead. Not that he would ever, under normal circumstances, employ the Brotherhood; he avoided death whenever it could be done. However, if they were to have any chance of saving Ocato, and to Sid's concern, their fellow associate Crow, they would need to lure out the Brotherhood, and this was the only way.

"If it's bait you need, then Sid Lucas is your man," Sid reported proudly, stepping towards Don Leon. "A man of my...occupation, makes certain enemies during his travels. I'm sure that the Dark Brotherhood, if they are half as crafty as we all give them credit for, will know this of me." He nodded his head. "If I can be of help in any way, simply tell me what you would have me do." He simply dispised the idea of sitting idly about, while others shouldered the entirety of the work.

Babur's eyes narrowed at the sound of Don Leon's plan.

"How willing do you think the assassins will be to do business with someone who has associated with one of their recent victims?" He would have thought that the Brotherhood would be careful enough to discern between genuine summonings and traps such as this. No doubt it must have been attempted several times in the past by others. No, Babur did not like the sound of the plan at all. The operation assigned them by the Elder Council was dangerous enough without getting entangled in the web of that society of murderers.
"This is the interim head of the Empire- can we not simply summon the best alchemists and healers in Cyrodiil? Unless you welcome the idea of being hounded by more malcontents," he added pointedly.

"I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" Byron blurted out after the Altmer had vouched for him, "You were the other apprentice! Ohhh, it all makes sense now. I knew I didn't like you from somewhere!" He remembered bitterly, that Altmer was the one who got the Alchemy job instead of him. It would've been perfect, a little shop, some apprentices to learn from him, that could've been his! His face contorted into a confused look, what did she mean he wasn't subtle, he'd show her subtle! "Shut it, gold skin". Sadly that was actually the best Byron could come up with at that moment, and turned to Don, the maker of this plan.

It dawned on Byron what Don Leon was planning, and a grin crossed his face. He wasn't going to be useful to the plan, seeing as he wasn't strong or very good at deceiving, but he would be good at getting information out of people. That would be his job, if the need arised, he would take that job instantly. He raised his hand, "I'll gladly help out anyway I can, a multi-talented individual like myself could easily benefit any plan set before him" He smirked, "And may I remind you with a few incantations I can make things very painful for somebody, say, until they gave information" Byron's super-subtlety was at work once again.

OOC: Sorry about the crappy posts right now guys, I didn't have a good night's sleep, next door was being robbed and they called the police and there were lots of sirens. It was very dramatic. >.>

"The problem with that, my good Orc, is that it took far longer than a week of work for this young miss to even concoct a possible antidote." Don Leon remarked to Babur, one finger held up from his sitting position. "And then account the travel time for these alchemists... by the time they get half a cure, our poor patients will be quiet comatose. But you do raise a point about our association..." Don Leon trailed off with a nod, rubbing his chin again.

"Is anyone here capable of disguise? I myself am, but I must operate the trap, so another must be present to be a convincing actor, and appear to be not one of us." Don Leon announced, looking around the room. "In my opinion, summoning the Brotherhood is the only way we will be able to get information on treating this antidote. And as for getting hounded by more malcontents... they have obviously already deemed some of our number to be targets. We have nothing to lose in terms of our relation to them."

OOC: Hey everyone! I hope you've all had a good time, and a HUGE thanks to FC for keeping this going.

I'll move the plot on from here; I have a simpler solution to this conundrum

OOC: Thank you Ghost, I tried to make it so it wasn't too long or too short.

IC: Fathis noted the commotion in the Main Hall and quickly walked the other direction. Taking a side hallway and a flight of stairs, he found himself in the upper residential rooms. When he heard the distinctive sound of many pairs of hurried feet climbing the stairs behind him, he ducked into one of the many bedrooms. Finding it blessedly empty, he listened to the party of heroes and councilors that he was hiding from. The meaning of the news that Ocato had been poisoned was not lost on Fathis, one of the few who would have the opportunity to do so, having served him wine the day before.

Fathis faintly made out the words "Dark Brotherhood" from his position across the hall. 'Those cold blooded killers! They give stealth a bad name! Oh well, at least they put lowly wine pouring servant out of mind...'

Suddenly, more people running up to the Councilor's chambers. Fathis pressed his pointed ear harder against the thick door, knowing that this new person could only be bringing important news, what with an entrance like that.

The Gray Fox paled. 'Crow! Crow has been poisoned as well!' He knew that Ocato could be poisoned by someone who simply dislikes the current government, but to have the well hidden Champion of Cyrodiil poisoned as well must mean it was done by someone with knowledge of her impending quest. 'There must be a traitor somewhere in the castle, then...Blast, I'm still possibly under suspicion!'

Ocato was taken down to the Main Hall, and the entire procession of councilors, guards, and heroes followed. Fathis wanted to go down and check on the only connection he had in the castle, but to do so meant possible discovery. He would wait here for now, and, when the time was right, go down to see how Crow was doing.

Fathis mind wandered as he made himself comfortable sitting against the stone wall beside the door...

"Greetings, Zaire..."

He could tell she wasn't comfortable, but was masking it incredibly well. Not, however, well enough to fool the Fox.

OOC: Illusionary, if you would like to continue the memory?

Burd slowly and deliberately lowered his sword from in front of the mage at the altmer's words. Then without a word he sheathed it behind his back and walked a short distance away from the group, completely forgotten and ignored by them, as they began to deliberate on a plan to flush out the Dark Brotherhood. He would be no help with this; subtly and cleverness definitely weren't his strengths as he'd just proven. And he'd rather not be involved in any plans involving amateur deceiving of professional deceivers. The Brotherhood may be a band of bloodthirsty assassin death cultists, but fools they were not. Whatever the heroes planned to do involving those crafty cutthroats could only end in disaster if Burd got involved.

He sat on an empty bedroll and further contemplated his worth to this entire mission. In truth, the mage's words had cut him deeper than any weapon could have; he was right. Maybe if Burd hadn't been out all night boozing this might not have happened. Maybe I really can't save anyone anymore. Maybe I should just stay out of the way so no one has to rely on me and only wind up coming to harm for it.

Burd stood and began to pace back and forth, his chin in his hand, thinking. This whole situation seems fishy, like we're all being tested or something. He snorted a laugh to himself, Whoa Burd, get a hold of yourself! Don't start thinking deep now, that's not your strength either. He realized his head was still pounding and cupped it in his hands. This hangover was going to last a while.

Strafer stood silently as the unconscious Ocato was being brought out into the main hall, and watched the brigade of guards follow suit, although it had not only been Ocacto who had been poisoned, but the Breton, Crow, as well. The Argonian groaned in disbelief, whoever this assailant was, they wanted the Chancellor out of commission, and the quest to Morrowind on hold. For what purpose? Strafer couldn't help but shiver slightly as the noble Breton mentioned the Dark Brotherhood. Maybe someone prayed to the 'night mother', to have Ocato taken out in this manner... but then that leaves Crow, why would they poison her...?

The lizard bit his bottom nervously, he always felt nervous even when someone mentioned the notorious sithis-worshiping assassins, and this Noble wanted to contact them? Strafer shuddered, the Breton was either crazy, or just had some big brass ones. And in any case, the Dark Brother might just kill him and put it at that, only time would tell.

ooc: Sorry for the crap post, my character isn't being involved that much...

Cole swallowed the curses bubbling up from his throat as Burd berated him and then walked away to inspect Crow, who apparently had also been poisoned. He figured that Burd, like all Nords, was a hard-headed man, unwilling to easily compromise his preconceived notions. His loyalty lay with the Empire, not the other Champions, and certainly not with Cole. It was understandable that he would ignore the contempt the councilors held Cole in. There was little Cole could do at present but hold his tongue. The alternative would certainly mean trouble for all parties involved.

At the mention of the Dark Brotherhood, Cole gritted his teeth. He had not had any direct interaction with the shady group of assassins, but he had been privy to some of their gruesome work while in the Legion. It did not bode well for Ocato or Crow if they were in fact involved in their current predicament.

Turning back to his bedroll, he swept up his glove and, with the ease born of practice, pulled it onto his bare hand with the aid of his teeth. He then gathered his scabbard, sheathing his sword and attaching it to his belt once more. Leaving his pack on the ground, he pulled his hood low about his features and turned, watching as Ocato was brought down into the Main Hall, accompanied by Byron, the well-spoken Orc, and a Altmeri woman. As they entered, placing Ocato on an empty bedroll, Cole made his way quietly out of the room, taking care not to look overly suspicious as he made his way upstairs, back to the room in which they had all met the previous day, now deserted. Sitting down at the large table with a grunt and a sigh, Cole rubbed the bridge of his nose lightly, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and slow.

There was little Cole could do for either Ocato or Crow. His skills lay well outside the realm of alchemy and healing magic. He knew barely enough to field dress a wound to keep someone alive until they could reach a true healer. And Don Leon’s talk of deceiving the Dark Brotherhood to find the assailant was not his specialty either. If he knew who he was after, there was little chance the culprit could hide from Cole. But, like the alleged half-brother of Martin Septim, he had no idea what he was up against. And it made Cole miserable.

Even in his work for the Fighter’s Guild, he worked alone. It helped not only in his focus, but it allowed him the luxury of not having to worry about the well-being of another: Whether they were hurt, whether they could keep up, whether they would hesitate for one crucial split-second in the heat of battle… all aspects that Cole preferred to not have to take into account when hunting down his usually dangerous prey. But now he was saddled not only with several companions, but most of them seemed ill-suited for combat. And those precious few that were warriors would inevitably clash with Cole due to their wildly differing personalities. Any way he looked at it, there was even more misery on the horizon for Cole.

The mercenary pulled the black sleeve from his stump, revealing a massive, cross-shaped pink scar covering the end of his arm. A small lump stuck out slightly from the end of his ruined limb, the remnants of a bone, like a tiny, flesh-colored mountain amid a sea of scar tissue. Green-blue veins in his arm stood out beneath the sickly pale flesh, which was itself in contrast to the otherwise bronzed skin of his body. Cole rubbed at it absent-mindedly, the sleeve laying across his lap as he stared at the portrait of the morning sky outside the window, his thoughts gratefully ethereal and fleeting, never resting too long on any one thing, allowing him a rare moments peace of mind.

Last Night

Crow had been sitting quite calmly, waiting for the 'servant' to arrive. She watched as various others of their team turned up, bickered, and laid themselved down for the night.

Her mind was still on the servant, however, and that is why she did not even flinch when the tiny whisper carried to her ear from beside her. "Greetings, Zaire..." the voice whispered. She didn't turn to look for the source and thus give away his position, but her breath caught in her throat painfully at the sound of her name. She didn't assosciate with that name any longer. The Guild had given her a new one, and she stuck by it, however stupid or demeaning it might be.

So Crow was faced with the authority of her Guild for the first time since he'd changed. She'd had no notion he was a dark elf, although she wasn't as surprised by it as some might be. She'd heard wind of a dark-skinned elf that was close in the former fox's confidences, prior to the changing, and so prejudices didn't cloud her judgement.

But she was nervous. The Gray Fox was possibly the only authority figure she actually respected, for his righteous nature, his skill, and his defense of the poor and needy.

And, of course, she had much to be ashamed of in his presence.

But such thoughts were for later. Now, she needed to explain the situation to him. "I just wanted you to know," she murmured, her lips barely moving, as if she were merely talking to herelf. "To make your own decision. I never left the Stranger in the dark, so neither will I leave you clueless."

Information was her trade, so she was not strictly a thief, although she'd done a fair bit of that in her time. But she offered her trade to the Guild nonetheless, the only family she had. More family than the other Guild, anyway...

But she didn't let her thoughts wander any nearer to that.

OOC: Thank you kindly. Let's see if we can get this moving, eh?

IC: Fathis was all business. When the lights went out, and his rings went on, he wasted no time with disguises. His persona was his own, the original poor elf growing up in Morrowind, turned traitor and thief. All normal pleasantries died away the minute Crow answered him "I just wanted you to know, to make your own decision. I never left the Stranger in the dark, so neither will I leave you clueless."

She was even quieter than he, looking straight ahead. She hardly flinched, even as he gave his answer "He had told me much of the affairs of our country and its groups, none were excluded. He also passed down to me all he owned, including your additions."

Fathis recalled the day he was crowned Fox, how Corvus had mantled the cowl on his head. He had laughed and smiled, handing Fathis all his official belongings: the armor, the rings, the keys and picks, and anything else one would need to run the guild. It was a momentous occasion, by far the happiest moment of Fathis life. As of yet it had all led to this, one of the most important and grave missions of the new Gray Fox's career. 'As much harm the empire has done, it must be kept alive to save millions of others...'

"I will see to it personally that this group succeeds; only by choice will anyone be left behind."

OOC: I'll start some more action once the memory is over. Thanks.

OOC: I hope I've interpreted your post right; it's hard with these flashbacks. Ping me if I get it wrong, and I'll edit.
IC:

Last Night

That whispery voice floated to her once more, as if from the void. "He had told me much of the affairs of our country and its groups, none were excluded. He also passed down to me all he owned, including your additions."

She considered that quietly, waiting respectfully for him to continue. "I will see to it personally that this group succeeds," he said. "Only by choice will anyone be left behind."

She inclined her head ever so slightly. Though she still stared ahead, there was determination in her eyes and a strong note of respect in her tone. "I am glad of it," she murmured. "Our chances will be that much greater." She watched the others settling; her eyes moved to Sisemo and Sid Lucas. "I'd best settle down for the night, sir. Some in this lot are quite observant; I'm sure you'd rather meet them on your own terms." She looked uncomfortable; though she was confident in her own skills and talents, perceptiveness was not something it was easy to guard against. If they began to suspect, or noticed her lips moving even that tiny amount, it could mess things up. Spies can be so suspicious... she thought with a tiny smile of irony.

Slowly, giving the Fox time to leave, she moved to lay herself down to bed. Resting her head against the rough bump that simulated a pillow, she closed her eyes and let dreams carry her away to the morning, where the hustle of preparing for their long journey no doubt awaited.

OOC: Alright then.

IC: Fathis stood up from his position on the floor, having heard no one go through the hallway for several minutes. He opened the door and took a quick look in both directions, just to be certain, before he entered the corridor. He walked back towards the stairs leading to the main hall, going down them casually but with purpose, as any noble would during a time of panic. The thought almost made Fathis smirk, but he managed to maintain his bored and slightly worried look, enjoying the joke only with his mind.

He walked past the double doors leading to the main hall, following his mental map of the castle to the servant's quarters. He opened the plain wooden door, revealing the equally un-exemplary room beyond. The stone floor was covered by two worn rugs, perhaps taken from a noble's room when they became too old. All furniture inside was wooden, from the tables to the cabinets and chairs. A bookshelf stood in the corner, half filled with dusty tomes. Doors lined the room, most likely containing the individual servants' rooms.

In the center, sitting at an old table, was a middle aged Breton woman. Her dark brown hair fell to the shoulders of her plain russet shirt. She looked up at Fathis, changing her bored expression into a smile as she lay down the book she had been reading.

"Greetings, sir. How may I help you?" She stood up, pushing her chair in as she approached the Fox.

"Hello, miss. I require you to fetch a certain individual from the main hall, one of the guests that arrived yesterday." Fathis thought over who to choose as he spoke, and giving a description as he finally decided "He is an Imperial man, just out of his teens, with a very rather average appearance. Brown hair worn loose with similarly chocolate eyes, he should be wearing chainmail armor and a silver long sword. Please bring him to the dining hall, I wish to speak with him."

"Hmm, yes sir. I'll get right on it." The servant woman began walking to the door, and Fathis stepped out of the frame, thanking the woman for her time. 'Careful, mustn't be too kind?'

Fathis walked the other direction as the woman, down the hall and into the dining room, seating himself at a chair in the center of the long table. He sampled some of the fruit that was lain out as he waited on his hero.

OOC: In case you didn't know, that would be you, PolishGamer. However, anyone may do as they want with the servant woman coming in as far as questioning or even following goes, even if it would be nice to get Tobrecan alone?Thanks all ^^

Tobrecan continued leaning on the wall, perhaps attempting to melt into it and forget all his troubles. However he had already agreed to go on this quest. He worried about whether or not the poisoner was among them, and that he himself would would be next. The young imperial barely noticed the servant enter the great hall, but she was quickly upon him. "Would you come with me please?" she asked, indicating the way she had come, paitently waiting for his response.

Tobrecan was not accustomed to being called for, but he secretly felt important. In the back of his mind, he wondered who was calling for him, maybe the poisoner, waiting to get Tobrecan alone to be his next victim. Then his thoughts changed. If it was the poisoner, he could capture him, and become the hero everyone expected him to be. If not, then he would just have a conversation. Without a word, he nodded and followed the Breton woman. She lead him back down a hall, to the dinning room. He eyes fell on a Dunmer man, seated in a chair and sampling some fruit. 'Was he with the others?' he thought to himself, standing akwardly in the doorway as the Breton woman went back to her book 'I don't remember seeing him'

Nontheless, Tobrecan cleared his throat and said "Um, you wanted to see me?" he asked, holding his arms behind his back, as he needed them to be in a position other than at his sides, a quirk of his.

OOC: Thank you, Polish. I have that same quirk! Or at least I did...

IC: Fathis watched the boy enter the room out of the corner of his eye. He continued eating, nonchalant so as to more completely look like one of high rank, as the Imperial walked directly in front of him, across the table. He put his arms behind his back and cleared his throat noisily.

"Umm, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, my boy. I have very rather pressing information regarding the current situation." Fathis used an accent that sounded like a mix of Colovian and upper class Morrowind. Deeper than normal, with a bit of a twang "Please, sit. I'm afraid I didn't quite catch your name, no?" He indicated the chair opposite him.

Fathis considered how much to tell the boy, and thus the group. 'Confirm their suspicions like you know more than them, then tell him where he can find it. Don't forget the entrance, must tell them everything now. Can't get a chance like this again...'

OOC: Sorry its short, I really can't do anything without Polish to avoid character control.

Tobrecan uneasily worked himself into a chair. This man seemed to exude some kind of presence, but Tobrecan couldn't quite catch it. He pondered what he had said, trying to come up with a mildy intelligent response. "My name's Tobrecan," he said, leaning forward, showing a confidence he didn't have "However, in my experience, you give your name before asking one"

His heartbeat jumped slightly. Tobrecan remembered his father teaching him that, part of the basic manners the young man knew. He never thought that he'd have the quile to do so. Tobrecan folded his hands on the table in front of him 'At least I can appear confident, appearences are just as good, right?' he asked himself, not answering.

"No matter," Tobrecan began, assuming the name would come, pressing on "What is this information that is so vital to this undertaking of mine?" he asked the man, the question left dripping unknowingly with curiosity.

Tobrecan felt his body tense with this illusion of confidence, and he shifted discreetly as he waited for a responce. He knew he could catch the air the dunmer man had. It may have been that of a nobel, or someone with a position of power, but there was something else, more of a sense of mystery, alterior motives, and...kindness? Tobrecan felt daft, this man confusing him by being in the room.

OOC: Quite nice.

IC: Fathis eyed the man sitting across from him, hands folded on the table, voice laden with false confidence. He had seen the man in the meeting room the day before, he wouldn't become emboldened all the sudden just because the two were alone. Fathis had finally decided how and what to tell the man.

"My name is Gilnes, Gilnes Aradil. I am a respected member of this castle, and I have considerable knowledge of matters of this city. Especially concerning the matter with our dear Ocato and the Champion, and the people responsible." Fathis leaned forward, slightly more than Tobrecan, and lowered his voice.'This must sound both secret and important.'

Fathis knew revealing he knew who Crow was gave him control, an air of knowledge, both mysterious and profound. "The Kin of the Shade, the Unholy Family. The Brothers of the Night. They have, in fact, poisoned your friends. Quite lethal, and nearly incurable. The toxin's only antidote is held by the administrators, and your only chance."

Fathis paused, but only for effect "Yes, your only hope to save this journey, and our beloved Empire. You must find them, and thus the remedy." Another pause "Fortunately for you, I know exactly where to find them."

Fathis made sure to speak with considerable authority, hopefully this boy was easily swayed. The only problems now were of trust, whether Tobrecan would trust the Fox, and if the others would trust Tobrecan. Fathis gave a small, silent prayer 'Nocturnal, help us.'

IC:
Burd stopped pacing, rubbed his aching head and thought, I really need a drink! He figured just one or two to take the edge off his hangover couldn’t hurt. He made sure he had all of his things, wouldn’t do to leave all my stuff with this group, Heroes or not. He smiled ironically to himself as he headed out the entrance to the common room into the hallway.

Gods, these castles are confusing, he thought as he wandered down a hallway, already quite lost. A young dunmer servant girl was walking towards him, her head lowered and her fair white tresses draqed over her face so as not to draw attention. Burd never understood this mannerism among servants, he thought it made them stand out more and look suspicious.

“Miss,” He said, waving her over.

She looked mildly distressed to have been noticed by him, her wine colored eyes widening to the size of tea saucers, but visibly resigned herself and approached him cautiously, “Yes, My Lord?”

Burd’s smile was slightly embarrassed; he scratched the back of his neck as he gazed at the floor, “I’m no Lord, kid. I’m just a beat up old lout looking for a drink.”

The servant grinned sheepishly despite herself; Burd realized he may actually be talking to someone three times his age or more, “Mayhap one of the servants in the kitchen can help you, serjo.” She turned and pointed down the hall, “Just follow the passageway to the dining hall, the kitchens will be through there, serjo.”

“Thank you kindly, miss,” Burd said, inclining his head slightly.

The girl dipped her head and quickly bowed at the waist, “No trouble at all, serjo.” Burd watched her scurry down the hall, continuing about her business, before turning himself toward the dining hall to continue his quest.

OOC: You guys can decide if he walks in on the convo or if he misses it. I just wanted to post for posting’s sake. Also, I have no idea what the layout of Cheydinhal Castle is, for some reason I can’t find a floor plan online.

EDIT: Cool, thanks Illusionary, I’ll just continue to wing it then, lol.

OOC: I'm making it up and saying that its much bigger, so as you like, Ghost.

(OOC: I don't have any problems with Burd coming in Ghostpaw, its up to you Darkhom)

Now Tobrecan leaned back in his seat. This man seemed to know something, but he wondered how much he was telling about what he knew. The young Imperial was not accustomed to conversations of this nature, secret information of dier importance, given to him and not someone else. He felt privaledged, however he didn't trust himself, or this man. He didn't even know if he trusted the others either. 'But Crow seemed trustworthy...' he thought thinking back before the poisoning.

Tobrecan rubbed his chin, thinking, first that he trusted some woman more than he trusted the man who led the empire at the moment. Then he thought of the Brothers of the Night. Tobrecan thought of the Dark Brotherhood, whispered names and secret killings. He had read about it in the paper. He did not know if the Brotherhood was what this Gilnes was speaking of. 'Might as well fake intelligence as well.' Tobrecan thought before clearing his throat and leaning forward once again.

"Mr. Aradil," began the hero of chorrol "This Unholy Family you speak of, how can I be sure you are telling me the truth?" said Tobrecan, clasping his hands together. A thought struck him, something the others had done to make their unfriendly comments seem respectful "Not that I am questioning your honesty, I simply need to know your information can help the good chancelor and our dear Crow." He didn't really know where this came from, mostly 'pulled out of his [censored]', as his father would put it, however he liked how it sounded. Tobrecan cocked an eyebrow quizically, awaiting a reply.

OOC: Enjoying Tobrecan.

And I should think it would be alright for Burd to turn up. Afterall, there is very little to be done right now if not.

Is anyone interacting with Mr. Sisemo right now? I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be posting with him...