Hammer and Anvil : The Elder Scrolls Series Discussion

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 8:40 pm

Titus Flaccus - Woods behind Gottshaw Inn

Titus followed the Breton into the woods, but he kept himself at a distance until he knew what was going on. Titus ran through the woods after the Argonian, and could hear the screeches of the Dunmer's summon.

Titus did not have any spells active as he followed the Men and Mer through the forest, because the combination of spells he had recently used had drained his magicka. Titus was able to keep up with the group fairly easily thanks to the rigorous Legion training.

As he closed into where the group had stopped, he realized three things; one the Nord was no longer there, two that the area was covered with blood, and three that the Deadra was no longer in the area. Titus could see that one of the Dunmer had positioned himself behind the Agronian, who was now on the ground and Titus was unsure how he got there, Titus stood back from the second Dunmer and the Breton.

It looked like the truth would finally come out, so Titus walked in a bit closer to hear what was going on.

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 11:33 pm

Gottshaw Inn, Woods

After a few moments on the ground dealing with the pain of the lightning bolt, the tackle, and the claws, Swims-in-Shadows scrambled to his feet with almost preternatural speed, his heart racing with pure, primal fury. Blood still flowed from the fresh wound on his face, running down the green and tan scales of his cheeks before dripping down onto his armor. Normally, he would care if his armor became dirty, but it was already coated with bits and pieces of the Winged Twilight; he would definitely need to clean it later, which only added to his burning rage. Swims faced his pursuers, quickly glancing around to note their positions. Thankfully, the savage Nord was absent, although the pair of Dunmer mages was still around, as were the Breton who had figured out his guilt and an unfamiliar Imperial. The leather-armored Dunmer, Servyn, was standing quite a distance behind him, Arethan and the Breton stood much closer, and the strange Imperial was standing somewhat further away, albeit not as far as Servyn. Even through his violent anger, Swims knew that fighting would be a poor decision, and running wouldn't meet much more success considering his almost-surrounded status.

"Arethan, do we repor-" said Servyn nervously, before being angrily cut off by Arethan.

"I don't give give one damn about the blasted authority, or these f*cking Imperials, for that matter. The damn Nord's gone. What are you doing here, scale-skin? What happened to the inn? Why are you here?" said Arethan to Swims.

Get a bit closer and you'll be choking on your own teeth, Ash-scum. It was at times like these that Swims was grateful that his face showed very little emotion, or else his murderous rage would be readily apparent for all to see. He calmed himself enough to respond without snapping at the Dunmer, although his voice was cold and bitter and the fury still simmered inside of him.

"What am I doing here? Why am I here?" said Swims with icy brevity. "You want the truth this time, I take it? I mean, that would be so hard to figure out on your own." he spat out the words sardonically, staring at the dimly illuminated face of Arethan.

"I came here to rob an inn; I would have thought you could figure it out by now. I set the place afire, but it just happened to be full of adventurers, so here we are now. Any other stupid questions with obvious answers?"

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 6:50 pm

The road took Petrus through the open Colovian fields and long grasslands as it made it’s way lazily up to the northern boundaries of the province. From the moment he set off away from the small battlefield, he hadn’t even bothered to look back to see if the man he had traded Rupert’s tiny wooden life for, was even still there. He would miss Rupert. The box had been a good travelling companion, cutting the long miles in half with it’s rousing stories of debauchery. Petrus always did love a good story of debauchery. It was as if the two were made for each other. Never in his life had the Vescomte met another inanimate object that had such an appetite for wine and women.

Twitching an ear, the mad nobleman strained to catch the sounds of his new companion without actually turning to see him. The soft sound of wind in the dry grass muffled any evidence that might have been. Shrugging he contentedly returned to his daydreams. That is, until the tall rocky face of Fort Sutch rose into view. It had been years since he had visited the place. He remembered it as being an abandoned relic of a bygone era…Some things never change. It was still decrepit and overgrown, but now it had signs of life, and the banners of anvil streaming from its rounded and weather beaten ramparts.

"So are you going to welcome me with fanfare?!"

OOC: Just so you guys know the Oblivion version of Sutch where it's just a stump of stone in the mud, but in the RP it's going to be a bit more formidable. I'm going to describe it a bit but vaguely enough that you and Verlox can decide whats where.

IC:

Seeing the fort from up close made the age old battle scars of the structure even more obvious to Andrethi. The structure was a hybrid now of old stone and newer wood but still carrying the marks of the Daedric invasion. From his perspective however, as that of an experienced assassin who had scaled all manner of fortification in the eastern portions of Vvardenfell, he automatically made quick notes of the jutting blocks and uneven beams of wood that would provide for him a grip to climb.

Back at the Legio Falco, Lucretia had changed her approach to the situation. The Ambuscadeers and a portion of the Stratioti had been sent south of Sutch to scout the road for anything else moving into Sutch or out of it. The camp itself had begun to be semi fortified, the crown of low hills around it providing a good look out and defense while the forest to the west worked as a shield and the camp for the skirmishers as well.

OOC: Geez almost 5:30 AM here. I am out of it.

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 2:52 am

Don Miquel Lluis Umbranox, the Estate of Lord Drad

A grin shot across Miquel's face, banishing the hard, uncompromising look he had it set in before. As Fafnid spoke, the grin only grew wider, until it had become a large, toothy grin. What the Nordic leader was asking wasn't something easily given. While the Don was most interested in gaining Nordic support in the defence of Anvil, he was not exactly willing to part with any of Anvil's land. However, he had to give them something to secure their support. A place not in Anvil, but close enough to exert influence, and a place that would not challenge the Principality's supremacy in the region. The only place that came to mind was Kvatch.

Turning on his heel, the Don limped back over to his seat and sat down heavily, propping his leg back up onto the stool. "I would speak with the Nords alone," he said with a wave of his hand, and the servants and guards filed out. When they were finally alone, the Colovian gestured for Fafnid to come closer. "You want a new homeland, one far removed from the chaos up north. Fertile fields, and plentiful land is not easy to come by down here, my lord. Anvil is filled to the brim with nobles, each chomping at the bit for a slice of land; a hunting ground to call their own. There is no room for you here in the Principality. But even if there were, I would not give it to you."

The Don knew he had to be blunt, and straight forward. Nords liked that kind of talk.

"My reasons? For one, I do not think you would be willing to acquiece to exchanging one sovereign for another. Because that would be the requirement, your people would become nothing but subjects of Anvil, and you Anvil's vassal. However...." Miquel leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head, "I know a land where you and your people could settle. Kvatch was obliterated at the end of the third era. It was largely abandoned, both the city and the surrounding countryside. If it pleases you, I would support you, and your people, in claiming that land for yourself."

The Don continued. "In return, you pledge your swords to my cause. Let our alliance be settled on paper."

OOC: Sorry Verlox, I failed to mention I was going out of town for the weekend. Thought I was gettin internet where we were going but I was mistaken.

Fafnid nodded in understanding about the boy not giving up bits of Anvils territory to him and it did not bother him at all. He had no interest in these lands, where they would have to live as a protectorate to the power of Anvil. That was not why they had left Skyrim. A moment later though, the boy surprised the old Nord when he suggested Kvatch, as if he had entered his aged brain and taken the very thought from its walls. Fafnid could not contain a small look of anticipation as Miquel claimed his support for settling the Nords there in exchange for help in the coming war.

"My men and I are at your command good sir, and at another time we will have to discuss more boring matters. My people are numerous and there is an even greater amount waiting back in my homeland for word of our success. We would require a great deal of land north of Kvatch I think." he said, trailing off at the end of his sentence as if to leave that out there for consideration. "But enough idle chit chat! May our alliance bring both our people's prosperity and lasting friendship!"

As he drained his cup of the brandy, he couldn`t believe how easy this had been in securing a new land. Of course there was much harder events ahead, the least of which were getting the city rebuilt, getting his people settled properly in and around the city, and of course, the fact that many of the able bodied men were going off to war now. It would probably be best to keep his people in the camp along the Hammerfell border until his men were back from the fighting, so that they may better help build a city from ashes.

"Tell me lad; what exactly is the situation here. I know you and your people go to war, but against whom and for what purpose?"

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 2:15 am

Main Character Sheet

Name: Arslan

Race: Ra Gada (Ayuub Tribe)

Age: 27

Birthsign: The Steed

Physical Description: A young and fit Ra Gada man at his prime, Arslan is five foot seven inches tall, around the average height for an Ayuub. He is growing into what will probably be the ‘ideal’ Ra Gada – a warrior of middle age, well built, but shorter than the ‘ideal’ Imperial. Life in a desert has made him a swift runner, as well as a good bowman, as is reflected on his muscular arms and legs. Neither his shoulders, nor his chest are very wide, making him around the same width everywhere, unlike with the Nords who get wider going up. A white tribal tattoo covers his entire left upper arm.

Arslan’s face could be considered somewhat handsome, if it wasn’t marked by his past few months with exhaustion and constant worry. Small, slightly sideward brown eyes, only a bit snub nose, thin long lips, a wispy black moustache and a bit of a beard that's beginning to crop up due to not having a chance to shave for quite some time define his facial features. His pitch black hair is usually kept cropped, one of the most common haircuts amongst the Ra Gada, but by now it has grown to be of some length, which combined with the more temperate climates he's been faced with lately means he very rarely wears either his scarf or his turban.

History: Born into the Ayuub Tribe, Arslan is a true child of the Alik’R. His father taught him everything about hunting in the desert, and his mother passed on to him several secrets of nomad medicine. As is usual in the Ayuub Tribe, Arslan was a good rider, and a better bowman. Cold nights and hot days made him stronger than many of the city dwellers, preparing him for the horrors he’d have to endure.

When Baibars became the Khan of the Ayuubs, Arslan rode out to war with the rest of the tribe. He took part in the Battle of Lainlyn Forest (however he recalls very little of it due to the injury to his head he sustained). Unfortunately, he was captured by a Bretic soldier, who dragged him off to High Rock in hopes of selling as a slave.

Arslan was supposed to be sold in Wayrest, however he never reached it. After several brutal weeks, the nomad managed to escape his captors, recovering most of his former possessions (which the captor hoped to sell off as exotics to some noble) in his escape. Stuck in a foreign land with no friends or even potential allies he was aware of, the nomad's situation looked desperate for a while, until he ran into a small group of mercenaries - the Band of Bastards. He spent some time with them, traveling around High Rock; however, though he heard rumours that Sentinel ships frequented the port of Anticlere, he never had the chance to go there and instead took the second best choice, leaving the Band right after they reached the coast of Cyrodiil. He wasn't, however, aware of the military campaign that was about to sweep into the region, nor that the city-states of Rihad and Taneth hadn't been brought under the banner of the New Kingdom yet, which complicates his journey vastly.

Weapons: A composite bow, along with 40 arrows, also a traditional nomad scimitar, which hangs from his belt without a sheath as is common amongst the Ayuubs.

Armor/Clothing: Arslan wears the traditional Alik’R nomad clothes – flowing robes, designed for warmth at night and fending off sun at day. They’re in a worse shape than is usual, with many scratches, also with a layer of dust and dirt, due to the things he had to endure during his captivity and the travels that followed. His wicker cuirass, only armor he ever wore in his whole life, is also the same way.

Misc.: He carries a Bretic military canteen and a small leather bag for whatever other items he might need to carry with himself.

Somewhere between Fort Sutch and the Hammerfell-Cyrodiil border

Though with the current state of affairs the shores of Cyrodiil were seeing a bit more dark-skinned warriors of the west than they were used to, the invading army was not the only source of that. Wandering between the north-most outpost of the Principality of Anvil and the Brena river was another son of that fierce race; to the eyes of the Colovians, he was possibly even more unusual than the soldiers of Sentinel, but this bothered him little, since during his brief stay in this province, this odd man was yet to encounter any of the natives up close.

Arslan was, by now, beginning to suspect leaving the Band of Bastards was a mistake. He imagined the journey north as a straightforward affair - as a nomad, he was quite capable when it came to figuring out which way north was, and the Heartlander-paved roads were supposed to ease the nomad's journey further. Though he couldn't read the Cyrodils' way-stones that marked distances to major cities (Rihad to one way and some place called 'Anvil' to the other) and some parts of the road had seen more glorious days, he was confident reaching the Alik'r would be an easy matter and from there he would no longer need to worry about finding his way to anywhere - any Ayuub knew their way around the great desert better than anyone else, be they other nomads or settled Raga living on the fringes of the desert.

However, he soon came to find out that matters would not be so simple. The gods weren't, apparently, done testing him yet. The Ayuub's way north was blocked by an army that marched down from Rihad. What unnerved him most was that it was an army of the Heartlanders; though the men weren't armoured like the iron-men which his people hated so, they were clearly their kin and most likely their allies as well. He had no way of knowing that the army was a mercenary one and in fact was serving Sentinel in this occasion; instead, he made a rather logical presumption that, since heartlander armies were marching down this road, there was some conflict either up north or down south. Furthermore, the iron men or their allies still held sway in some of the city-dwellers' lands, which made his journey even more dangerous - though he knew his way around the Alik'r, Arslan had no wish to risk becomming a prisoner again by traveling a land he was barely familiar with and which he thought was filled to the brim by enemies of his people.

Thus, Arslan found himself lost once more. His longing for the Alik'r grew worse by the day, especially since the nomad was so close to home, and yet so far - the traitors' lands lay between him and the rest of the Ayuub tribe. To cross them, he needed friends or allies, yet the only group he could think of was far outside his reach. They had parted several days ago and the Ayuub knew from experience - the Band of Bastards did not stay in one place for long, just like his people. By now they were probably in this Anvil, apparently a major city; major cities always had a lot of work in them, and like hunters follow the migrating animals of the Alik'r, the Band went to places where most work could be found.

Have you abbandoned me, Gods? The nomad sat cross-legged in tall grass. Being quite short, by the time someone saw him Arslan would've seen them long ago, providing he kept still and didn't move the nature around him in any way; this was not too difficult, because though this land seemed foreign and strange to him, just as the pale-skins' land, it was also alive just like any other he had seen in his life, though quieter than the Alik'r. Not in the literal sense, but nomads were a curious people - they had their own ways of seeing nature.

A challenge again. Wherever I turn there flows a deep river and I see no crossings. If the iron-men are still in the north, they have the city-dwellers aiding them, for the might in their swordarms has waned after the great battle, that much even I can tell of the heartlanders. If the traitors aid them, they would find me before I could leave their land; despite being deaf to the land, they memorise it and claim to know it. I would not hear the land well enough soon enough, they would find me, overwhelm me and bind me in chains again as an enemy, for my clothes mark me as such in their eyes.

I need allies, Tall Papa... I need them to make a way through the traitors' lands, or else I am lost and my journey is in vain. Yet the only allies I had are gone.

Rubbing his eyes, Arslan carefully lifted up. No one in sight, as always; what reason did anyone have to roam this part of Colovia anyway? Everyone stuck to the roads and he was thankful for that - had the Cyrodils not placed their stone snakes as they had, the nomad would probably be in more risk to run into someone. This was only of small comfort, though, and he quickly forgot it as the many troubles filled his mind once more, mixed with prayers and pleads for aid from the gods. The Ayuub was heading south; why, he couldn't say. Perhaps if his foes did indeed gather to the north, there would be less of them in the opposite direction. He didn't know, though, that he was heading towards Fort Sutch, a place the likes of which he had to avoid. The fates move men in mysterious ways, however, and though Arslan did not know it, going south could prove to be his salvation and bring him the new allies he so needed... Or, perhaps, old allies.

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 8:40 pm

OOC:

I would wait to do this, but I am going to try to catch us up here. We need to get rolling. It's been worked out with Immortal Blood, Squidmasher, Tanvar, and really everyone who will be involved. Time to launch us into the plot.

Arethan Andas, Servyn Velothi; The Forest East of Gottshaw

So he wants to smart off at me? Well so be it. If he says one more blasted thing like that, I'll blow him to pieces...

Arethan gave Swims a cold stare, and thought about what he should do to the being before him. He quickly drew light from his hand, illuminating the area. He got a good look at Swims and what he was equipped with, or what was at least visible. The Dunmeri decided that the Argonian hadn't given him a specific answer, or that he had just needed to ask a more in-depth question. For now, Arethan skimmed over the vast waters of his mind and what they should do with their captive. He looked over at the Breton beside him, and wondered who he was and what was his exact purpose in the current land.

He's a bandit, and the authority's problems aren't my concern. If he can help me, then I'm all well with it. Though, we shouldn't trust him. If he blew up that entire inn people by hell knows what, there is no telling what he would do to anyone else. I just wonder how exactly he blew up. He doesn't appear to know any spells. It isn't like he would tell us anyway. I'll just ask him later, and maybe I'll get it out of him. Whatever it is, it isn't ranged. I just have to keep my distance from him. If it is capable of blowing that Daedra into pieces, it can put more than a dent in this armor.

As for the Breton, he looks to be some kind of noble. He's definitely not from eastern High Rock, because I haven't seen anything like that symbol before. It doesn't look Nordic at all. I've never seen much of a knight that wears a Vvardenfell glass helmet...wait...Vvardenfell glass? He's been to Morrowind, hasn't he? Or he got it from somewhere. A bow? Well he definitely isn't a knight. He might still be of noble birth. I wonder what he's like, or if he could help us. He looks young though, and I wonder where he got all of that equipment.

Arethan turned his head over his shoulder, to see the Imperial that had just shown up behind the group.

What the hell is he doing here? He wasn't at the confrontation. Is that even a human? What is that bastard wearing?

Arethan turned his face back to the Argonian. He had finally decided that maybe this bandit, or whatever he was, could help them. He had to know the area fairly well, or at least Arethan assumed. He thought maybe with all of his equipment and even the way he handled the Daedra, he would have to have some experience. If he had done this thing before, he was probably a wanted criminal, and regardless he was definitely somewhat evil. Arethan took a glance over to Servyn.

"Servyn, do you think he could help us?"

Servyn froze for a minute before finishing his own observation of those around him. His mind was in agreement with Arethan's on the fact that any bandit should know the area he was working in to a more than adequate manner.

"Yea, he could. I think he's a bandit, probably knows the area pretty well. He could at least point us in a good direction- if we choose to believe him."

Arethan nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to the encircled captive once more. He eyed him carefully, forgetting most of what he had said earlier. He was only interested in what his mind had been set on for the last few weeks now, and no longer cared about the Argonian smarting off earlier, or the burning pile of rubble in the western direction.

"Sorry to have put you through this Argonian. Tell me what I need to know, and I'll let you go on your way. If you're nice about it..."

Arethan smirked. His face nearly showed a deep villainous grin, even though he was no villain. One could see his face perfectly in the new lit light. Servyn just sat there with a frown on his face, thinking to himself.

By Vivec, Arethan. Blow him to pieces.

"...then I might just heal that scratch on your face. What do you know about the ruins in the area, Argonian? What is your name? Do you know anything about the Skull of Corruption?"

It was indeed quite a random and rather crazy question. An answer rung from the earth, as an old square white stone showed off a small glow from beneath Arethan's feet. Now that Arethan had his light to see, he noticed there were very many of these stones scattered across the forest.

"His name is Swims Arethan, what do you wish to know of my skull?"

Arethan froze in silence for a moment, as the unknown voice quieted down for a moment. He looked around in worry, but detected nothing around the area. The voice was literally coming from the air.

"My skull?"...

"Who are you-"

"What do you wish to know of my skull, Arethan?"

Arethan now knew who it was. Months earlier, he had talked to different people throughout Skyrim in his stay, and had found tales of an old shrine of Vaermina in the Colovian area west of Kvatch, as well as the Skull of Corruption. It had not quite occurred to him yet that he was standing on top of it by an ironic coincidence. Though, he now knew who the voice was.

"Where is it, Vaermina? Tell me where it is!"

The voice began to laugh through the night before resuming its normal tone and focus towards the group. Arethan's face was now anxious, as he knew he would now have his chance.

"Why, Arethan. I will not give a mere mortal my skull out of kindness. No Arethan. Haven't you read the tales? You must first do something for me and give me my own reward in return. Only then will you receive the skull, Arethan.."

Arethan's face turned to the sky, then back to the ground. He now realized this was indeed the ancient shrine, or what was left of it. Despite many opinions, the connection with shrines and their Daedra Lords had always been held up. The Nerevaraine had done the same some time ago, making his way to a ruined underwater shrine.

"Spit it out, Daedra!"

"You and your captive, along with the Breton, must go find someone Arethan. I owe Azura my own debt, and must repay her. You must go find a Dunmeri named 'Serosi'. He has turned Azura's Star black, into a tool of utmost necromancy. He is of the Tong Arethan, the Morag Tong. He has been sent by the Temple to take your life, and entrap your soul forever into the star. No Arethan, your soul will not rest like those of your ancestors.Your soul will be bounded eternally in a rock, to be carried by the being who bested you and took your life. Prove your soul's worth, Dunmer, and I will give you the skull. Serosi is currently about at Fort Sutch, following an Imperial's guide and serving Anvil's army for information on the area...and you Arethan. You must face your own nightmare, and in turn make Serosi's life a living nightmare. Make him suffer, and only then will you posses the skull. I am the key to your salvation Arethan. Only if this task is completed, my debt will be paid, and your soul saved."

Arethan looked mildly towards his partner, the Breton, Swims, and the stones that lay beneath his feet.

"Why will they help me, Vaermina? What do they have to do with this?"

"Interesting, Arethan. The Imperial best be on his way, for there is no reward at stake for him. Perhaps he will serve me in his later days. As for the Breton, he will aid you in your quest. His mother's mind is entrapped with nightmares Arethan, [censored] by fear itself every disturbing night at the loss of her oldest son and husband. If the Breton, or 'Alaudis' as he is called by name, helps you, his mother's nightmares shall be taken from her forever, and she will live the rest of her days in peace."

Arethan reached down to pick up one of the stones, reading the Daedric Runes upon it.

"And what does the Argonian have to do with this?"

"The Argonian is a wanted criminal Arethan, and is hunted by many a man. Men seek him as we speak. If he chooses to follow you and aid you, then you will protect from these men that hunt him. You may also find Swims to be very interesting. He has worked with Serosi in his past, and should be able to recognize him. I will send you an additional vision through your sleep tonight, Arethan, to allow you to see the appearance of this Serosi."

Arethan still stared down coldly at the stone, which seemed to speak to him and the others through its runes.

"Drop this stone Arethan, for it will soon loose its effect if it is driven from this place. It's ability will stay on you through the coming days, and you will receive visions. It appears you will have as long as this war in Anvil lasts, or at least until Serosi finds you. Sleep well, Arethan. Hahaha! Leave tomorrow, and you will make it to Brina Cross by the late afternoon. Leave the next morning after that, and you will reach Lord Drad's estate by the following afternoon. From there, you should reach Sutch after another day. Do not fight Serosi in the late evening when you are exhausted Arethan. Wait until the morning when you are rested. Do not kill him, for he must go through much more suffering before his death is given to him. Sleep well, and good luck."

Arethan looked around in silence, waiting for a response from his companions.

He was unaware of how deeply the Daedra had lied to him. Serosi was not looking for Arethan, and although he had been a Morag Tong agent, he had lost his memory after converting Azura's Star to a black soul gem. While he probably used to know who Arethan was, he no longer did and had no intention or thought of hunting the former Her-Hand, of even killing him. Serosi wasn't in service of the Imperial Army, either. He was actually serving in Legion Falco. The last of the lies was that Serosi did not even know his own name, and now went by "Andrethi".

Only time would tell what the others would say now, and what would happen in the coming days.

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 10:05 pm

Alaudis Archen - Gottshaw Inn (Forest)

---

What's going to happen next? Hasn't this been enough for one night? It was true, the sights that were to be seen on this fateful would drive a lesser man insane. Stones upon the grown glowed brightly, and the majestic voice that could only be claimed by that of a god rang throughout the forest, for all those around to hear. It spoke directly to the steel-clad dunmer. As the voice finished it's piece, the group stood in silence for what seemed like ages. Each of them stared at each other, yet at the same time, no one, or so it seemed.

Alaudis was the one to break the silence, as he had before. He found himself talking in circles and answering his own questions. Looking over at 'Arethan', he began to speak. "You... You are Arethan? How did she know who you are? How did she know who I am? Who was she...? Varmina?" Alaudis stopped himself before he continued to look like a fool. "Nevermind, all that matters is that we can end my mother's suffering, you heard her, right? I don't care what it takes, she deserves to have peace of mind." His expression was stern, though his eyes showed a deep sadness at the thought of his dear mother's woe.

His voice was much quieter the next he spoke. "Will you help me, Arethan?" Alaudis asked, as his hand gripped tighter the helmet that he held against his waist. Moving his gaze not an inch, he continued to look at Arethan, waiting for his response.

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 10:09 am

Woods outside of Gottshaw Inn

Swims-in-Shadows still fumed with anger as Arethan began to interrogate him; even the offer to fix the scratch on his face did little to calm him. The Skull of Corruption? Does he mean the Daedric artifact? How the hell does he expect me to know that. On the bright side, at least he's managed to hold back his racism for a second. Actually called me an Argonian. Maybe I should just deny knowledge instead of sending him off on some wild goose chase with a lie for that. As Swims contemplated his revenge on the Dunmer mage, however, a strange voice filled the air.

"His name is Swims, Arethan, what do you wish to know of my skull?" said the disembodied voice, apparently originating from a glowing stone on the ground. What? Who is that? How does she know my name? More importantly, where is she? As soon as she shows herself, she's going to be in for some serious pain; no one tells people anything true about me and lives!

"Who are you-"

"What do you wish to know of my skull, Arethan?" repeated the haunting voice. Swims began to run through possibilities about who this ghostly voice could belong to, before Arethan came up with the answer: Vaermina.

A brief exchange began between the armored Dunmer mage and Vaermina, which was thoroughly uninteresting to Swims. The Argonian had almost begun to tone out the conversation, whose lack of application to him bored him, when a mention to the name 'Serosi' came up. That's odd. Why would he bother going through all of that trouble turning Azura's Star into a black soul gem just to trap the soul of this one Dunmer? He always carried enough black soul gems to contain a small town; this sounds suspicious. It's not as if Arethan is anything extraordinary; just another Dunmer battlemage.

"The Argonian is a wanted criminal Arethan, and is hunted by many a man. Men seek him as we speak. If he chooses to follow you and aid you, then you will protect from these men that hunt him. You may also find Swims to be very interesting. He has worked with Serosi in his past, and should be able to recognize him. I will send you an additional vision through your sleep tonight, Arethan, to allow you to see the appearance of this Serosi." I didn't know I was being hunted. All the way from Hammerfell? That, or someone was really quick in reporting what happened here. Maybe she means I'm about to be hunted? Either way, these idiots should be useful.

After the Daedra Lord's communication had ended, Swims' devious mind immediately turned to thoughts of how to extort as much money as possible from the three who would be staying with him. He could easily charge Arethan for information on Serosi, although Alaudis would be an entirely different matter. Just as he pondered how to get to the young Breton, Alaudis spoke up, breaking his concentration.

"Nevermind, all that matters is that we can end my mother's suffering, you heard her, right? I don't care what it takes, she deserves to have peace of mind." Good. Devoted to a cause. Always easy to fool. And he must be rich; look at that helmet.

Although Swims had not yet developed any concrete plans for dealing with his new companions, one thing was for certain: he would not reveal Vaermina's deception to Arethan. It was a far better bargain to let him act under the incorrect assumption that Serosi was after him, and, it would hopefully get him killed. That's what he gets for messing up my face.

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 6:50 pm

Just north of Sutch
Jassan gazed through the thick canopy out into the small valley that Fort Sutch was nestled within. It actually was less a valley and more a small basin, as the fort was surrounded by low hills and gentle slopes. The short Bosmer was gazing out from the branches of one of the trees ringing this hill, as a forest of pines and oaks, though nowhere NEAR as thick as the forests of his homeland, covered the earth around the fort and the road. From his high vantage point, he could clearly see that the Band remaining on the road would have been seen from the fort from their location atop a hill beyond the ones ringing the fort, but judging by distance, deemed too far and small to be a threat.

It also meant the Band could see little detail of the fort, hence why Jassan was now at the eastern edges of the road's forested area, investigating. And Ree'Ja was positioned several paces to the west side of the road, likely in his own tree. But probably not as high up. Jassan smirked, taking pride in his climbing capabilities. He was actually near the very top of the oak tree.

From what he could see, the fort looked undoubtedly occupied. Wooden beams and chiseled stones lay about the place and jutted from the edifice, suggesting rebuilding. Some of it looked recent, others not so much. Likely from the Crisis. Jassan reasoned. He regrettably could tell little about the people moving about on the encampment around the fort, though they appeared human. The size of the camp also suggested that while much of the fort was refurbished, it still needed work. Overgrowing plants suggested a greater focus on architectural stability than exterior renovation, and he could clearly see a banner waving from the ramparts, though he had no idea what it signified. A banner of bronze with zig-zagging brown lines, which were studded with silvery shapes resembling bird feet at their top and bottom points. All it meant for Jassan was a lack of bandits; they didn't typically have banners.

Ree'Ja, however, focused on the surrounding encampment from his viewpoint, which was purposefully lower than Jassan's. From his position he could make out the people better, and a light breeze carried their scent downwind to him. He crinkled his nose as he sniffed; sweat, steel, iron, and stale food. All the scents of a legion occupation. Satisfied with his discovery, Ree'Ja leaped down and headed back towards the Band to report, not caring if Jassan was doing the same.

OOC: I hope what description I have given was not too much, or unacceptable. I just feel the need to post before I get too busy again.

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 5:47 am

OOC: Sorry Verlox, I failed to mention I was going out of town for the weekend. Thought I was gettin internet where we were going but I was mistaken.

Fafnid nodded in understanding about the boy not giving up bits of Anvils territory to him and it did not bother him at all. He had no interest in these lands, where they would have to live as a protectorate to the power of Anvil. That was not why they had left Skyrim. A moment later though, the boy surprised the old Nord when he suggested Kvatch, as if he had entered his aged brain and taken the very thought from its walls. Fafnid could not contain a small look of anticipation as Miquel claimed his support for settling the Nords there in exchange for help in the coming war.

"My men and I are at your command good sir, and at another time we will have to discuss more boring matters. My people are numerous and there is an even greater amount waiting back in my homeland for word of our success. We would require a great deal of land north of Kvatch I think." he said, trailing off at the end of his sentence as if to leave that out there for consideration. "But enough idle chit chat! May our alliance bring both our people's prosperity and lasting friendship!"

As he drained his cup of the brandy, he couldn`t believe how easy this had been in securing a new land. Of course there was much harder events ahead, the least of which were getting the city rebuilt, getting his people settled properly in and around the city, and of course, the fact that many of the able bodied men were going off to war now. It would probably be best to keep his people in the camp along the Hammerfell border until his men were back from the fighting, so that they may better help build a city from ashes.

"Tell me lad; what exactly is the situation here. I know you and your people go to war, but against whom and for what purpose?"

Don Miguel Lluis Umbranox, the Estate of Lord Drad

Miguel quirked an eyebrow when Fafnid asked who their enemy was to be. With a quizzical look on his face, the Don answered, "You haven't heard by now? Gods' wrath! It's as you Nords are removed from society! Pah!" Slumping back in his chair, Miguel conintued, "My parents, the fools that they are, made on political blunder too many, and have sorely offended the damnable Reguards across the Brena River. So, because of my mother and father's stupidity, I must now defend myself against a Redguard invasion."

Taking a long drink of his wine, grimacing at the taste, Miguel went on to say, "And if that wasn't enough, the oppurtunistic elves have decided to ally themselves against Anvil, in a bid to weaken our power on the coast. How the Redguards, who value their honor, would embrace the shifty, dishonorable elves as allies if beyond me!"

Leaning the side of his head onto his propped-up hand, the Don appeared to snooze for a few moments. When his eyes fluttered open again, his face was passive, as was his voice. "I think you should send a messenger, and call your warriors down south; you and I, along with our attendants, will proceed to Fort Sutch, briefly, so that I might fully assess the potential damage my parents' appointed castellan will cause. After I have instilled the fear of the Gods' into him, we will make for the city, where we will begin to draw battleplans."

"Does this meet with your approval, my lord?"

The Gold Road; Present

Captain Anglor urged the last Bosmer up into his tree, barking out orders with a rapid efficiency. To an untrained eye, the elf seemed to be shouting at the trees, so well hidden were the rangers. Satisfied with his work, Anglor turned to his own tree, a grand oak lush with green leaves, and began to climb.

They had already stopped and killed three trade caravans, a dozen civilians, and two messengers. None had any useful information, and each time he had to climb down to the road to dispose of the bodies. It was grisly work, but nothing a follower of the Green Pact wasn't used to; besides, he had his orders, and he intended to follow them to the letter.

He had traded his normal bone-crafted armor in favor of more discreet furs. If a passerby ever caught any sight of them, it was as a small army of squirrels in the trees. Anglor smiled at the thought, reaching out to pet one such creature he had already tamed that day. The small rodent made small, contented noises, chewing happily on an acorn. Anglor did not approve of the destruction of the great oak's seed, but wild animals were not bound by the Green Pact, and the squirrel made a useful way to pass the time.

Prince and Princess Umbranox, the Gold Road

"It's hot!"

Millona Umbranox rolled her eyes as her husband, again, complained about the "sweltering" heat. While she agreed with her Corvus, she did not see the need to rant about it every half-hour. If he would just shut the windows, and let less sun in.....

"Husband?" Millona queried as she fanned herself with a Elyswere hand-fan, "It would be far less hot if you would but shut the windows."

Corvus turned a shocked look to his wife, saying, "But then no air would be blowing through! Of course it would be less hot, but just as uncomfortable!" With a quick motion, the Prince of Anvil slipped out of the heavy outfit that he was wearing, and was now clothed in nothing more than his shirt and undergarments.

"Still hot!"

*

The troop of guards, armed with heavy halberds, and dressed in mail, were not able to complain about the heat. But, being native sons of Colovia, and used to its sometimes uncomfortable weather, saw no reason to complain. If they did, that would make them no better than Nibeanean-Scum!

One of the guards, a broad-shouldered son of the west, took the silence that had been permeating the trek to Skingrad, and decided to fill it with conversation. "Is anyone else a little surprised we haven't come upon any bandits? I always thought conflict drew them like flies to [censored]." He was quickly silence by another guard.

"Do you want to put a hex on all of us! Quiet your musings, lest Fortune turns her favor from us!"

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 4:59 am

Don Miguel Lluis Umbranox, the Estate of Lord Drad

Miguel quirked an eyebrow when Fafnid asked who their enemy was to be. With a quizzical look on his face, the Don answered, "You haven't heard by now? Gods' wrath! It's as you Nords are removed from society! Pah!" Slumping back in his chair, Miguel conintued, "My parents, the fools that they are, made on political blunder too many, and have sorely offended the damnable Reguards across the Brena River. So, because of my mother and father's stupidity, I must now defend myself against a Redguard invasion."

Taking a long drink of his wine, grimacing at the taste, Miguel went on to say, "And if that wasn't enough, the oppurtunistic elves have decided to ally themselves against Anvil, in a bid to weaken our power on the coast. How the Redguards, who value their honor, would embrace the shifty, dishonorable elves as allies if beyond me!"

Leaning the side of his head onto his propped-up hand, the Don appeared to snooze for a few moments. When his eyes fluttered open again, his face was passive, as was his voice. "I think you should send a messenger, and call your warriors down south; you and I, along with our attendants, will proceed to Fort Sutch, briefly, so that I might fully assess the potential damage my parents' appointed castellan will cause. After I have instilled the fear of the Gods' into him, we will make for the city, where we will begin to draw battleplans."

"Does this meet with your approval, my lord?"

Fafnid, Miquel's Tent

Fafnid remained silent as the Don exclaimed that they were removed from things that were going on. He knew the Redguards were the enemy but he was simply curious as to who they marched for. Oh well, that could wait for another time. He smiled politely as the lad vented about his parents stupidity and how they had gotten into this conflict in the first place. His smile fell slightly when Miquel mentioned the elves were joining with the Redguards to attack Anvil. To most Nords, this would be welcome news but to Fafnid he feared that his men would lose control and would love to get some "elf blood" on their weapons.

He waited patiently as Miquel seemed to drift off into a light sleep, and he was about to nudge him awake before his eyes sprung open and he continued; this time in a more serious tone, as his face remained passive. His men, if Asolf had followed orders, would already be prepared by the time Fafnid or a messenger got back to camp with word about what they were doing.

"Indeed, it sounds like a fine plan, my Lord. I must insist that I leave a fair portion of my men back with my people. I will not leave them undefended in hostile lands, especially if our enemies learn of their location. However, I can promise nearly nine thousand soldiers to fight for you. A will send a few of my men back with the message to bring the soldiers down to meet us... where ever you deem best."

"I would be honored to accompany you to this, Fort Sutch, and then down to the city itself. To speak quite frankly, I know little to nothing of the land around Anvil, and many of the plan will have to come from your own mind."

He fiddled with his glass as he spoke, looking into the young man's eyes. It was clear that he disliked this man his parents had put in charge of the northern defenses but Fafnid could say little about it since he did not know the man. He was probably going to send Granis back, along with Otus and one of the bodyguards so that they could bring the army south. Asolf would remain in charge of affairs at the camp of migrants as he was not as skilled on the field of battle as Fafnid, or indeed as calm as Granis.

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 8:05 pm

Spoiler

Name: Theodore Roux [Pronounced Rew]
Nickname: Theo, or just Roux
Race: Breton
six: Male
Age: 33
Birthsign: Serpent

Physical Description: Theodore is not really a burly, husky man but he is well in shape. He has a smaller frame so he stands at about 5’4”. He has short hair that comes down to the tip of his forehead which is sandy blonde. He has deep green eyes and thin blonde eyebrows that make it seem like he has no eyebrows at all. He has a thin mouth and high cheekbones. His face is overall gaunt.

Clothing/Armor: Theodore is basically always dressed in black when not in battle. Whether it be black robes or black outfits, it is always black (even in the hot deserts of Elsweyr). In battle it all depends where exactly he is. He wears a tight leather armor that is like the Shrouded Armor of the Dark Brotherhood, except it is a heavier, thicker leather. If he is in the snowy mountains of Skyrim, he will be dressed in white. If he is in the deep swamps of Argonia, it will most likely be a dark sage. During most infiltration missions, he wears a black colored armor. He also, when trying to descretly move across territory, he uses a kind of tarp that camouflages where he is. The tarp is a flat piece of cloth, decorated with various items (wool to look like snow, twigs and leaves to look like forest), and he hides right beneath it as he crawls through somewhere.

Miscellaneous: A silver necklace, unenchanted.

Weapons: A red http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5e/Yumi-p1000624.jpg/223px-Yumi-p1000624.jpg enchanted with a drain stamina enchantment. He also has a http://www.oriental-arms.co.il/photos/items/18/002218/ph-0.jpg with a worn wooden handle and a simple sheath.

History [Ever noticed how History is just His Story? Hrm.]: Theo was born to a noble family of Bretons in North-Eastern Anticlere. He was immediately baptized into a world of pompous manners and horses. Theo always took an odd view of his bloodline however, he thought that the nobles seemed to ignore the world and lived in the fantasy land which was created for them by their money. He fled his home in Anticlere and began a different life as a peasant in Evermore. He tried the military and was astounded to find that he found the soldier’s life easier than previously thought. He didn’t think the training as rigorous or the discipline as harsh. He thought that the soldier should have to experience extreme harshness, as he read that no training had ever prepared a soldier for real war.

So, with this, he tried to create a sort of commando training, but he found the minds of High Rock too frail. He and his friend decided to prospect Hammerfell, and they found a gold mine. Hammerfell was known for innovative greatness, especially in military terms, and it turned out that there were many people eager to go beyond basic military training. The military of Hammerfell was reluctant to share their military genius of black powder with the two Breton boys, but after the results they found, they shared their secrets. Thus, the gunpowder commando was born.

Military Information

Total Forces: 50
Officers/Companions:

Francois Caria - Theo’s friend from Evermore. He is a shy, tall man with a short stubble of a beard and a musketeer’s mustache. He commands the second squad of Commandos and is more at home using illusionary magic and slipping by than any other sort of combat tactic. Even so, he is trained as well as Theo himself and is trained in archery, stealth, swordplay, and hand-to-hand.

Dar’Karim - A sly and hardy Khajiit from the city of Dune, the Suthay-Raht is innovative and quick of mind. Favoring the crossbow, Dro’Karim is one of the best shots the Commandos have. His cunning has earned him the ability to lead the third squad of the commandos, and is one of the smartest Khajiits that Theo has ever seen.

Vabisi Nadus - Vabisi is a Dunmer from Ald’Ruhn that sports a broadsword, and is (in Theo’s opinion) the best of the best with it. Aggressive and tricky, Vabisi has earned a spot leading the fourth squad of commandos. The Dunmer is sort of ruthless, which is usually something to avoid when picking leaders, but his mission success rate is too high to ignore.

Vamas - One of Ilden’s friends from Sentinel, he too is very wise. He is gifted in the art of magic, but is a valuble asset to the team because of his ability to adapt to rapidly changing situations. He practices almost all schools of magic and is dubbed the mage of the group. He is the captain of the fifth squad of commandos.

Gaea Olcinius - Theo’s own lieutenant, the female Imperial from Anvil who is everything in one. Gifted in magic, combat, and stealth, she is the greatest commando under Theo. She is a smart and ruthless girl when it comes to fighting, and is a master with a shield and rapier.

Balan - Francois’ right hand (wo)man, she is a tough Redguard from Rihad who is well versed in two-armed combat. She is almost the antithesis of the stealthy kind that the commandos usually train, but her versatility and adaptation is what made her the lieutenant of the second squad of commandos.

Kalorter - Kalorter is a tall Redguard from the western city of Hegarthe. Dar’Karim’s second in command, he is the lieutenant of the third squad of commandos. Chosen not because of his military prowress, but because of his knowledge of architecture. This is a valuble gift when trying to blow up buildings completely, or try to avoid as much unnecessary damage as possible.

Ilden - Ilden is a short and wise Redguard from Sentinel which counter-acts Vabisi’s short temper and aggressiveness. Idlen is the quickest of them all and one of the ones most gifted with the art of stealth. He is the lieutenant of the fourth squad and is skilled with daggers.

Grey-Thoat - A towering Argonian from the marshes of Argonia is the lieutenant of the fifth squad. He is well versed in assassination and stealth, and likes dual weaponry. Not much is known about the Argonian, but he has hinted that he is not on well terms with his home land.

Troops:

50 Gunpowder Commandos - Commando troops well trained in every aspect of combat from magic to hand-to-hand. They are well trained in the many uses of Hammerfell’s secret weapon, and are divided into five squads. They are meant for suicide and high-value missions, and answer only to their captains and the generals of Hammerfell.

Abecean Sea, South of Brena; 2 Days Ago

Theodore Roux was slumbering in his cot under the ship, listening to the crash of the waves upon the hull of the ship. The sound, added with the rocking of the boat, lulled Roux into a state of half-sleep half-awake. His eyes shot open as he heard footsteps approaching from an adjacent hallway under deck, most likely coming to inform him of some half-important news. He sat up and shifted so he was sitting on the bed, feet on the rocking floor. The echo of the footsteps got louder, and soon he could see a Redguard, dressed up like a merchant, coming towards him. The Redguard didn't seem alarmed or anxious by any means, so that means it's not anything horrible. Roux patiently awaited the Redguard to come to the doorway. The man looked as if he were going to knock on the doorway even though Roux was looking straight at him for formality's sake. The Breton seemed to betray a smile and motioned him in before the Redguard could knock.

"Yeah, what is it?" Theo asked sternly.

"We're almost to land, Captain." No hesitation on his part. And at this, Theo was confused. They hadn't expected to hit land until tomorrow, but here the Redguard said differently. It was then when he grimaced.

"I see. What's your name again?" Theo asked. He tried to remember all of his soldiers' names but he just wasn't that great at it.

"Dinok, sir, I'm in the second." Theo nodded. He was partially afraid that this man was in his own squad and he wouldn't be able to name him; that would be outright embarrassing.

"Yar." Theo said, betraying another smile. Dinok answered with one of his own and the two went up on deck.

The first thing that swept Theo away (as he was down under deck for the good part of the trip) was the sudden smell of salt. It filled his nostrils and tears filled his eyes. The second thing that swept him away was the domination of the color blue. Blue skies were everywhere you looked, and if you weren't looking at the blue skies, you were looking at the blue seas. Theo let out a sigh of disapproval and went up to the bow of the ship. He walked past a good deal of hard-working sailors. None of them were his men, but then again, it wasn't his ship.

Up on the bow, he could see his old friend, Francois. Francois turned to look at the newcomer, and smiled at the sight of Roux.

"Enjoying the trip, are we?" He asked, a huge grin on his face. Theo returned with an expression of hatred.

"You know how I hate boats." Theo returned in a sour tone. At this, Francois raised up his head and bellowed laughter. It was a fake laughter, meaning to poke fun at Theo. Yes, it was true: Theo hated boats. In his mind, one had to intrust his life to a floating peice of wood, and no matter how great of a warrior or mage, nobody could overcome the harsh fate of sinking. Except, probably, Argonians. But Theo was no Argonian.

"Well, Theo, it was your idea in the first place." Theo shook his head as if it would stop the constant salty smell.

"Yeah, well, we needed to get to Garlas Malatar in time." Theo returned.

"And it was urgent enough to pose as pirates and steal this ship from the poor merchant?"

Theo could only shrug. But as he looked onto the horizon, he could tell that that land was near. Not only that; war was near.

((OOC: Not really feeling the whole 'being on a ship' deal. Will post better once I get off this dreaded boat.))

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 7:43 am

Titus - Woods outside Gottshaw

Titus could hear a voice speaking and knelt down quietly and listened. After the voice finished Titus stood up, he could see that the Breton was eager to begin what ever suicide mission the Deadra Prince was to send them on. Titus advanced closer, he needed that Mage to heal is burned and scared arm, Titus could hear the Breton ask;

His voice was much quieter the next he spoke. "Will you help me, Arethan?" Alaudis asked, as his hand gripped tighter the helmet that he held against his waist. Moving his gaze not an inch, he continued to look at Arethan, waiting for his response.

"Poor guy, Deadra really do have a way to manipulate what they want," Titus thought before he asked the group. Titus removed his hood before he spoke, "As the Deadra is correct, I have no desire to embark on a suicide mission, but I was wondering if one of you could take the time to heal these burns on my arm?" Titus raised his left arm to show the red, blistered, charred skin.

"The fires inside the Inn really did a number on my arm."

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 10:12 am

OOC: Timeskipping us to present day. I'm kind of tired.

IC:

Arethan Andas, Servyn Velothi, The Forest - Past

Arethan nodded his head at the Breton and next looked over to the Imperial and issuing a second nod.

"I'll help you, but lets get some sleep after. Imperial, what is your name, lest I should meet you again?"

Arethan Andas, Servyn Velothi, The Road - Present

"There's Brina Cross, Arethan. Let's stop and-"

Servyn was cut off before he could continue, lowering his hand which was originally pointed to the inn.

"No, a bit further. The sun will not be down for another two hours. We need to make as much ground as possible."

The figures passed down the road for some small amount of time, before another figure came into the distance before them. It appeared to be an Anvilese officer of some sort, coated in what looked to be iron plate, but wearing the same Anvil uniform signs. He sent his horse to a halt as he neared the four. He appeared to be a well spoken man, his black hair cut short and his coarse shaven face fitting well with his blue eyes.

"It's getting late, and with the state of Colovia these days, you should seek shelter soon. Take a stop at that inn, rest for the night."

Arethan readied his voice, but seemed to be too annoyed to have the time to get anything out, at least before Servyn did, who spoke in a well-masked Imperialist voice.

"We'd prefer to keep traveling, sir. Inns aren't doing well these days."

The legion soldier took a strange look at the Dunmer before responding.

"But why's that? You have to stay at an inn to know what it has in store, of course. Haven't you rented in one recently?"

"Oh, yes sir. Wasn't good at all though sir. It was never like that in Morrowind."

Bah, Morrowind. That Servyn shouldn't even mention it in my presence.

"What was so bad about it, eh?"

"Well, sir, it collapsed. Didn't feel to well either. You might want to go take a look at it. Gottshaw."

The soldier nodded, uttering a response before sending his horse into a full sprint.

"Good sir. I'll take a look right away."

The younger Dunmer snickered as the man rode off, taking a brief look over at Swims.

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 10:51 pm

OOC: Feels great not being behind anymore. Very slight, retroactive character control going on here. If Wooly or Tanvar objects, they can PM me to edit.

Road near Brina Cross - Present

Swims-in-Shadows continued marching along with his new traveling companions, whom he had only met the night before after the fateful encounter at the inn the night before. While the entire night's events were clear in his memory, thinking about it was like recalling a distant dream; if his memories had not been so vivid, he would have doubted the reality of what had happened. He supposed there was something oddly fitting about the dreamlike qualities of his memory of meeting the Daedric prince of dreams, but the situation still seemed rather amazing in retrospect. Even at the height of his importance in the War of Wolves, Swims had never suspected that he would end up meeting a Daedra prince. Still, he resolved not to let the divine encounter with Vaermina get to his head; there was still work to be done and a huge profit to be made off of the whole situation he had been flung in to. Besides, Vaermina had only proven to him that Daedra were little different from mortals in terms of personality; after all, he had seen her lie to Arethan about Serosi's goals. Indeed, Swims' awe at Vaermina's divine presence did not do much to soothe his bitter anger at her for revealing his true name to the Dunmer and Alaudis.

Of course, Swims would never tell Arethan that he had been deceived; there was too much to be gained by allowing him to continue believing Vaermina's words. Besides, even if he didn't stand to profit from Arethan's ignorance of the situation, Swims still would not have told his companions of Vaermina's lies; he currently nursed a quiet, simmering rage towards each of them. Servyn's demeanor irritated the Argonian, and he was still annoyed at Alaudis for figuring out his bluff the night before as well as blasting him with a lightning bolt. Still, Swims' hatred for Arethan dwarfed any ill will he felt towards the other two; while the scratch on his face from the Winged Twilight was healing quite nicely and the pain had mostly faded, the memory of the foul harpy-creature wounding his face still infuriated him. The scar would probably never fade, and for that, Swims despised Arethan with a passion.

The journey itself had been fairly quiet up to this point; no one seemed to feel like talking much. However, after a while, with just a few hours until sunset, an Anvil road guard stopped them and asked them to rent rooms at the inn up ahead on account of "the state of Colovia these days." State of Colovia these days? He should just wait till I've been here for longer; it's going to get a lot worse. Luckily, Servyn handled the conversation, liberating Swims from the infuriating duty of dealing with well-meaning imbeciles like the guard. However, the relief Swims felt at not having to speak with the guard was replaced by a quick flash of rage as Servyn snickered and looked at him after mentioning the Gottshaw Inn, actually prompting him to speak up for the first time in hours.

"Why the hell are you looking at me? I'm not telling you how I collapsed that inn!" Snapped the Argonian at Servyn, venomous hostility evident in his voice. He paused for a moment before speaking again, this time in a slightly less bitter tone.

"While we're on the subject of unpleasant matters, how much are you people paying me for this? You two are getting a Daedric artifact," he said, motioning to Arethan and Servyn "and he's freeing his mother from nightmares or something stupid like that." he added, motioning to the Breton. "But as far as I know, I'm not even getting the short end of the stick like he is. Hell, I'm not getting any end of the stick. I don't work for free."

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 10:39 am

Alaudis Archen - Road to the Brina Cross Inn

---

It had been a long and hot day. The unlikely group had awoken early in the morning after sleeping out in the woods, and had been making their way to... Wherever they were going on foot the entire day. They were going back the way Alaudis had come the previous night, and if it weren't for his goal, this would have made him a little bit angry. Still, he was young, and in good shape, his body took to the long travel well. Not a word had been uttered until a legion rider approached. After a quick interrogation, he was quickly dismissed and he rode away to the Gottshaw. There was only a moment of silence before the talking began again, this time much less calm than the previous conversation.

Alaudis listened with a mild annoyance as Swims-in-Shadows raised his voice at Servyn. "Why the hell are you looking at me?" He had began, and went on. Alaudis did his best to ignore him, but his anger began to spark as the argonian began to complain about money. His very next words filled the young Breton with a raging fury."...and he's freeing his mother from nightmares or something stupid like that." With these words, Alaudis glared at Swims. If he says one more word... "But as far as I know, I'm not even getting the short end of the stick like he is. Hell, I'm not getting any end of the stick. I don't work for free."

That was all he could take. With a loud, infuriated yell, Alaudis reached at the argonian, and grasped his collar. "How dare you speak ill of my mother!" He began to scream, while shaking Swims back and forth. "If you dare speak one more ill word of her, gods be damned, I'll kill you with my bare hands you filthy lizard!" Alaudis had never in his life been this angry. Not even close. His mother was the only other person he had in the world, and she had experienced the same feelings he had at the deaths of his brother and father.

His right hand clenched into a rock-hard fist, and trembling with anger, he raised it near the argonian's scarred face. One more word and I'll give him a lot more to worry about than that paltry scar....

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 7:34 am

Road outside of Brina Cross Inn

Swims-in-Shadows' eyes widened in surprise as the Breton youth, Alaudis, seized his collar and began to shake him, waving his fist angrily in the Argonian's face. He hadn't expected the Breton to react so violently to a comment about his mother, especially one so relatively mild compared to the insults that he had heard men and mer use regularly. Still, the novelty of being threatened with death wore off quickly, only to be replaced once more by the same anger that had filled him all day. Ordinarily, Swims would use his gauntlet to make short work of anyone foolish enough to grab him, but he realized that it would be a poor idea. We're on the same mission; against Serosi, we'll need all the help we can get. Not to mention how much killing him would irk the Dunmer... He suppressed his fury and instinct in favor of a much less lethal strategy of escaping the Breton; Swims gave a sudden push to the Breton's shoulder with his glass-armored hand and simultaneously stepped back away from Alaudis, slipping out of the Breton's grip but causing absolutely no harm to him.

"Look," began Swims, impatience and irritation evident in his voice. "I'm sorry if what I said about your mother offended you; I always forget how much value you mammals place on your mothers. I guess the whole 'live birth' thing gives you a closer bond to them than we have back in Argonia." he continued in a tone that was almost conciliatory, if it were not for the underlying tones of annoyance. "But," he said after a brief pause, switching back to a much harsher tone, "stop trying to assume some sort of moral high ground."

"I know you love your mother dearly, and I'm not going to criticize you for that. However, do consider what our mission is. Our job is to make a mer's life a nightmare, and he has just as much right to live a peaceful life as your mother does. While you might think that's it's brave and noble of you to fight to save your mother from her nightmares, at your core, you're basically being selfish; you're placing the value of your mother's life over that of a stranger. Once again, I don't blame you, and I'm not asking you to give up your quest. Just realize that you're no better than I am. We're in this together, and our goals are the same for now. I simply want you to recognize that there is nothing brave and noble about what we're trying to do; if you think that this is some great adventure out of a bard's tale to go out and hunt down an evil assassin and bring him to justice, you're deluding yourself. Making his life hell will certainly involve harming people that he cares about, and innocent people with definitely be harmed. As long as you're doing this, you're not any better than I am; the only difference between us is that I recognize I'm a monster. Open your eyes, Alaudis, and stop pretending to be a good person. It will make this a lot easier on all of us."

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 9:56 am

Alaudis Archen - Road to the Brina Cross Inn

---

Alaudis' feet slid backward through the loose dirt on the road, but he kept his balance. His fist was still clenched and shaking. It had been one night, and not even a full day, and he already hated the argonian. Before he had any chance to come back, Swims-in-Shadows began to speak. Every word that came from the lizards mouth angered Alaudis more and more, but what Alaudis really couldn't stand was how calm and collected he was in the midst of all this. He listened to the argonian's every word, not moving an inch. At the same time, he was almost considering putting a dagger in his throat, but he knew that wasn't the action of a hero.

He waited intently for Swims-in-Shadows to finished, processed his words for a few seconds, and responded quickly. "But that's exactly it," He began "Serosi is an assassin, he deserves what's coming to him. My mother has been through and hell and back, and she's never hurt a soul. She deserves peace more than anyone I know, much less a common murderer." Assassin, murderer, Alaudis spat this words with obvious bitterness towards the meanings they condoned. "And don't you dare try and put me on your level, saying I'm not better than you. You broke down an inn full of innocent people, children even, for gods sake! You killed people, you scarred people, you made them suffer."

Alaudis stood straight and stepped towards the argonian again. "And for what? Did you want their money, their valuables? Maybe you would have stolen a precious heirloom from someone, hmm?" As much as he still wanted to hit the lizard, he refrained. "Or was it for the thrill? Do you think it's fun to destroy things? Do you like to murder innocent people? Maybe before you tell me where my place is you should think about where yours is."

Alaudis felt like nothing could quell the rage that burned inside in of him. Who does he think he is? Trying to peg me as low as him? He may as well be a common pickpocket, he doesn't even deserve to live...

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 8:22 pm

Prince and Princess Umbranox, the Gold Road

"It's hot!"

Millona Umbranox rolled her eyes as her husband, again, complained about the "sweltering" heat. While she agreed with her Corvus, she did not see the need to rant about it every half-hour. If he would just shut the windows, and let less sun in.....

"Husband?" Millona queried as she fanned herself with a Elyswere hand-fan, "It would be far less hot if you would but shut the windows."

Corvus turned a shocked look to his wife, saying, "But then no air would be blowing through! Of course it would be less hot, but just as uncomfortable!" With a quick motion, the Prince of Anvil slipped out of the heavy outfit that he was wearing, and was now clothed in nothing more than his shirt and undergarments.

"Still hot!"

*

The troop of guards, armed with heavy halberds, and dressed in mail, were not able to complain about the heat. But, being native sons of Colovia, and used to its sometimes uncomfortable weather, saw no reason to complain. If they did, that would make them no better than Nibeanean-Scum!

One of the guards, a broad-shouldered son of the west, took the silence that had been permeating the trek to Skingrad, and decided to fill it with conversation. "Is anyone else a little surprised we haven't come upon any bandits? I always thought conflict drew them like flies to [censored]." He was quickly silence by another guard.

"Do you want to put a hex on all of us! Quiet your musings, lest Fortune turns her favor from us!"

Captain Anglor; The Gold Road

Captain Anglor, decorated veteran of dozens of missions, playfully threw the squirrel's acorn down to the forest floor, smiling as the rodent hurried to retrieve it. It had been a tedious day, his troops had already killed several passing caravans, and none of them had any connection with their real target, nor knew anything of them. He was considering starting their midday meal early, just to break the boredom, when suddenly a far off sound caught his attention. The Bosmer's ears perked up, a smile breaking slowly across his face as he recognized the noise. Hoofbeats, carriage wheels, and the idle pvssyr of men trying to be professional; this was what they had been waiting for.

The squirrel returned just as Anglor whistled his troops to attention, eagerly dropping its prize before the elf, waiting patiently for him to throw it again. Anglor hardly noticed the squirrel, he was already testing his own bowstring, running through the plan in his mind. First they would thin out the guards with arrows, and if the target did not surrender immediately a warning would be sent down. If they refused to comply, a second volley would ensue, killing the remainder of the guards and the horses. If the target still resisted, they were to capture him by force. Anglor truly hoped it would come to the last option.

The sound steadily came closer, the hoofbeats approaching the Bosmers' hiding spot with a maddening slowness. However, if there was one trait a Bosmer ranger prided himself on, it was patience; he would not ruin the mission by a poorly timed arrow. Anglor stood on his branch, struggling to see past the layer of leaves. Finally, he found his vantage point; the guard was more heavily armored than they had anticipated, but nothing a well placed arrow could not breach. Anglor drew his bone-white arrow, caressing the red feather at the end with a sanguine tenderness, his heart beating faster as the company of horses neared the killing zone.

He gave one sharp whistle, barely distuingishable from the bird calls around it, drawing nearly two hundred bowstrings taught. Anglor brought his own missile back, sighting his target- the carriage driver's unprotected neck. He began a low whistle, rising to a sharp crescendo as he let the sharpened bone fly. All around him the twang of bowstrings echoed his own, followed shortly by the screams of the wounded.

OOC: Not my best post, but I had to retype it after my browser decided to close. Once again, I apologize for my absence, hopefully we can get rolling from here

Feel free to decide how many of your troops were wounded, Verlox; as you can see from my "plan" it really doesn't matter to Anglor. Thanks.

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 3:52 am

Arethan Andas, Servyn Velothi; the road past Brina Cross

Upon hearing his two new companions, the Dunmeri battle-mage turned his head back to face their bickering. Strangely enough, Arethan didn't seem to be upset. He had already dealt with enough of this in the last few days, and now he was simply calmly annoyed and only wished to find a place to stay. It was getting late and the sun was going down, and the last thing he needed was his two companions that he hardly even knew fighting at the end of an exhausting day that had consisted mostly of walking. He had wondered if the two had noticed his gauntlet he was wearing, and if they would know exactly what he used to be. Perhaps that would earn him some respect, or at least remove any thoughts of meddling with him from their minds. Servyn continued to walk contently doing what Arethan had instructed him to do, scanning the area.

Hell. By Vivec, I need some sleep. Can't these two just go on without shoving their fists in each others faces? I haven't seen my mother in what...15 years? 20 years? Damn temple. They'll pay for this.

And fists? Heh. I've always enjoyed fireballs a bit more...

His eyes peered back, straining from his own weariness and discontent.

"The way I see it, Swims, is that I can either make this man miserable and gain entrance into my homeland once more, and spare his life; or, he can kill me, and lock my very soul into a gem. I'd prefer the first of the two. I say we get some sleep. It's getting dark and we've been traveling this damn road all day long with no horse to carry our asses through hill and dale like these putrid patrolmen."

He didn't notice at the very moment that the two knew nothing of his journey, or his purpose of acquiring the skull. Perhaps he would have been aware of it on normal standards, but now his mind was focused on one thing and only one thing: rest, along with the freedom of his dreams by being away from this annoyance.

Servyn continued to survey the area for anywhere to group might stay, occasionally checking their surroundings from any followers, as he was quite used to that sort of thing.

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 11:05 am

Band of Bastards
North of Fort Sutch

Ree'Ja was the first one back to the Band, his stronger musculature affording him greater ground speed.

"Ah, my friend, what's the news?" Hukral inquired from atop his stallion, gazing down at the standing feline; which he usually did anyways.

"An encampment around the fort, Ree'Ja saw-" He began, before the guttural, growling voice was cut off by Jassan's higher pitched, squeally one.

"They had a banner, and there's been extensive architectural repair to the fort." He reported as the tiny Bosmer dropped from his tree, landing with ease on his feet in a crouch. He stood up and crossed his arms. "Most of the repair is wooden beam supports, though some masonry has begun. The refurbishing looks too well done for simple bandits."

"And the banner?" Wikrun inquired, giving an apologetic look to the irritated Ree'Ja. Everyone listened though as Jassan described the colors and design, and it was Marsha who confirmed it.

"That's Anvil's banner, unless it's been changed since I left my home." Marsha informed them, frowning. "They used to trade with Hammerfall steadily, until the War of the Wolf."

"Ree'Ja caught the scent of the men in camp." The Khajiit butt in with a noticeable growl of irritation. "Reek of Legion, they did. No bandits, so safe." Ree'Ja concluded, grabbing the reigns of his horse and preferring to walk with it, looking all too eager to get on with things.

"Very well, on with the original plan." Hukral proclaimed, spurring his own horse forward.

LATER:
When the Band came nearer to the Fort, all five could instantly feel the hesitant tension in the air around them. From the walls up ahead, they could feel the eyes of the Legion watch on them; Marsha returned the feeling of a glare with one of her own, while Jassan waved jestingly at the figures on the walls. From the ground fortifications ahead, Hukral could see the apprehension in the guards, likely caused by Marsha's presence in the group and the past war. He tried not to blame them.

"I'll go ahead and address them. Stay here, within bow range. Wikrun-" The hulking Nord turned to his dark companion, who gave him a knowing nod. "Very well, I will try to secure us a place for rest, and a meal." Judging by the calm demeanor of the group, it would appear they'd handled such a situation before. As Hukral trotted forward atop his horse, the remaining four members of the Band came closer together, taking up a three-horse-abriast formation with Wikrun poised in front, the side of his horse facing Fort Sutch.

"Honorable men of the Imperial Legion." Hukral bellowed out as he came closer. For a brief moment a wave of memories from the war came over him; of trenches and pits, speared heads on display and grisly wounds upon men that refused to heal. Memories of butchery and prisoners and dishonorable deeds of war that made his greeting feel more like a terrible lie. I'm not much better. He reminded himself, before slowing his horse just outside the encampment and raising his gauntlet-clad hands as a sign of peace. "I am Hukral Ox-man, and I am accompanied by my companions just down the road. We are a mercenary band, the Band of Bastards." He had lowered his voice now. Times like these I wish we'd become known by a better name. Hukral brooded. If I curse Jassan for anything, it's that.

"We served beside the Legion in the War of the Wolf, within the entrenched desert outside Sentinel. Since then, we have wandered as we always do, and now are in need of food and shelter, to rest our horses and ourselves. We also have only recently managed to come to Cyrodiil, and seek the current news of the region." Hukral informed the guards of the encampment. "If I could speak to your commander, it would be appreciated."

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 4:58 am

Theodore Roux, Fort Strand

It had been two days since their landing upon the ancient Ayleid ruin of Garlas Malatar. It would serve as their headquarters for the next couple of months, or however long this war took. Inside they hadn't found much resistance, other then the remains of what seemed like a long-passed battle between a knightly order and some golden-looking warriors. Later that day they had packed up the merchant ship with a good deal of gunpowder, placed in large wooden crates and clay tubs. They had sailed south around Anvil, still poised as a merchant ship, and had landed south of Fort Strand the next day. They took all the supplies off of the boat while Grey-Throat carved a massive hole in the hull with his sword. The ship probably lay at the bottom of the sea by now. But by now they were inside of Fort Strand, where it was abandoned do to the fact that it was too close to Anvil to serve as a military outpost.

The only inhabitants were ill-prepared Marauders that didn't stand a chance towards Theo and his soldiers. Theo and his squad was accompanied by Vamas the Mage and the fifth.

"Do you have the flags?" Vamas asked in his thick Hammerfellian (denomination name check?) accent. Theo, who was sitting right inside of the main entrance to the fort, nodded. He was thinking of something else, though, and the voice was very far away. Theo looked barely perceptible with his black armor, but Vamas' trained eyes easily picked him out of the shadows.

"Good." Vamas responded, "should we go ahead and raise them?" For a while Theo just sat there, and Vamas was afraid that Theo didn't even hear the question. He opened his mouth to ask again when the Breton simply shrugged and stood up. He looked tired, deeply tired, and Vamas winced at the dark circles under his eyes.

"Your call" Roux said simply. Vamas dropped his gaze a little and nodded, disappearing into the darkness with his black robes. Theo waited for him to disappear from sight completely, then he began to walk down the same corridor that Vamas had disappeared down. Old, decaying stone and kicked-up mold begin to fill his nostrils, and he sniffed it heartily. He continued to walk down the corridor, dodging a dead marauder hanging from a chain (someone had a sick sense of humor), and taking a right into the main atrium. Inside were a bunch of relaxing commandos, black armor on. There were no torches lit, they had made sure to extinguish them all before going on with their plan, and so everyone was hiding within the everlasting shadow that haunted the fort.

He noticed a dark figure begin to block his path, and he could tell immediately who it was.

"Gaea, how about a status report?" he said tiredly, stifling a yawn.

"Vamas and Grey-Throat are about to raise the Sentellian (denomination name check again?) flags, and the men are on stand-by. Everything is set, we're ready to go." The feminine voice responded. Theo nodded, but soon realized that Gaea wouldn't be able to see it.

"Good. Let's hope they take the bait. This place is going to make Gottshaw inn look like a joke."

If Theo could see in this dark, he would of seen his soldier smile. For there was enough gunpowder down here to blow up the entire fort.

» Fri Feb 18, 2011 9:32 pm

Captain Anglor; The Gold Road

Captain Anglor, decorated veteran of dozens of missions, playfully threw the squirrel's acorn down to the forest floor, smiling as the rodent hurried to retrieve it. It had been a tedious day, his troops had already killed several passing caravans, and none of them had any connection with their real target, nor knew anything of them. He was considering starting their midday meal early, just to break the boredom, when suddenly a far off sound caught his attention. The Bosmer's ears perked up, a smile breaking slowly across his face as he recognized the noise. Hoofbeats, carriage wheels, and the idle pvssyr of men trying to be professional; this was what they had been waiting for.

The squirrel returned just as Anglor whistled his troops to attention, eagerly dropping its prize before the elf, waiting patiently for him to throw it again. Anglor hardly noticed the squirrel, he was already testing his own bowstring, running through the plan in his mind. First they would thin out the guards with arrows, and if the target did not surrender immediately a warning would be sent down. If they refused to comply, a second volley would ensue, killing the remainder of the guards and the horses. If the target still resisted, they were to capture him by force. Anglor truly hoped it would come to the last option.

The sound steadily came closer, the hoofbeats approaching the Bosmers' hiding spot with a maddening slowness. However, if there was one trait a Bosmer ranger prided himself on, it was patience; he would not ruin the mission by a poorly timed arrow. Anglor stood on his branch, struggling to see past the layer of leaves. Finally, he found his vantage point; the guard was more heavily armored than they had anticipated, but nothing a well placed arrow could not breach. Anglor drew his bone-white arrow, caressing the red feather at the end with a sanguine tenderness, his heart beating faster as the company of horses neared the killing zone.

He gave one sharp whistle, barely distuingishable from the bird calls around it, drawing nearly two hundred bowstrings taught. Anglor brought his own missile back, sighting his target- the carriage driver's unprotected neck. He began a low whistle, rising to a sharp crescendo as he let the sharpened bone fly. All around him the twang of bowstrings echoed his own, followed shortly by the screams of the wounded.

The Gold Road

Chaos. Without the driver, the carriage, in which sat the Prince and Princess of Anvil, lost its direction. The cries of dying and wounded men; the scent of blood, sent the horses pulling the carriage into a frenzy, and they fought against their harnesses. With hooves lashing out, and the carriage careening out of control, more mens lives were lost to being crushed by the massive stagecoach.

The guards, although weapons drawn, had little time to react to the whistle of two-hundred arrows. With a single volley, half of them, 100 in all, collapsed to the ground, some dead, some severly wounded. The other half of the royal retuine, and those not trying to recapture the carriage as it sped up the road at frightening speeds, charged into the foliage in search of their attackers. Their attack was doomed from the outset, as a second volley of arrows turned the soldiers into pin-cushions.

The ambush had been quick, and brutal. But the carriage was flying up the road.

OOC: I'm not feeling it. At all.

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 9:04 am

Fort Sutch

Arslan could clearly see the stone and wood contraption sitting on the road ahead of him and though the banners of the garrison were not familiar to him, it didn't take much for him to figure out that this fort belonged to the Heartlanders. Who else? Even though the Ayuub had seen the extent to which their Empire was crumbling during his travels in the west, from what he knew there hadn't been an invasion of their home itself for a long time now, at least if one forgot the fire gates that plagued his tribe as well several years ago.

Perhaps soon. The Heartlanders have brought upon themselves the envy and anger of many peoples and the strength of the iron men is not infinite. That everyone witnessed in the sands of the Motherland and such a loss is not easily forgotten. Their tribe might find themselves at odds with many others the moment they show weakness. He couldn't help but wish that this time came faster; the nomad hadn't forgotten the tales of how their tribe was wronged by the Heartlanders in the past, nor what had transpired during the War of the Wolves. And though the pale skins were as much to blame, there was room in the flame of hate that plagued his heart for the past months for the Cyrodils - they had, after all, started the war which tore him from his people and his land.

For now, however, he couldn't afford to dwell on the past, the partially ruined stone walls of the Heartlanders' stronghold looming ahead like an approaching sandstorm. Arslan needed to get around it; however, he knew full well that beyond this first outpost probably lay many others, along with villages, towns and cities where he would not be welcome. The nomad needed to figure out what was going on in the north, for he couldn't get home by walking south. He recalled tales from city-dweller merchants that visited their tribe of a great forest far to the south of their homeland. If he reached that, the Ayuub had decided some time ago that he would turn in another direction.

I may not need to go quite as far, however. If the Gods help me, I may be able to get close enough to the iron men to listen to their talks; perhaps I might learn what is truly happening in the traitors' land this way. And if I do, it might make my journey easier... If I cannot see any friends, enemies shall have to aid me.

It was a risky plan; he knew little of this land even after travelling it for several days, so if he was spotted escape would be rather difficult and who knows where he'd end up after escaping the Heartlanders. Eventually, however, the nomad would need to find out the actual state of affairs in the north. Don't delay what you can do now, his father always said; he'd take the risk now and perhaps avoid having to take a greater one for the same reward later. The future seemed too uncertain to take chances.

As he slowly crept towards the fairly imposing construction, careful not to move the tall grass too much, the nomad's eyes caught something fairly interesting - a group of several horseman. Three stood next to each other (one of them dismounted - a breed of the catmen, as far as Arslan could see), one was before them, his - or her, the only thing visible from this distance was that it was one of the ash-skinned elves - horse sideways, while another one of them was further ahead, apparently addressing the men in the fort. The group seemed oddly familiar, even if he couldn't clearly see them...

No, my eyes must deceive me. They must've travelled far from here by now, we parted several days ago and the Band moves fast.

No matter how hard he tried, however, Arslan couldn't make himself dismiss the glimmer of hope. If they were indeed his past allies, perhaps they could help him again... He needed to get closer to be sure, however. The wind was weak and there was little noise to mask him, so the Ayuub moved slowly, but he hoped to get close enough to the mounted group to identify them faster than they disappeared behind the walls. If they got in at all; there was no telling how the iron men would react to them.

» Sat Feb 19, 2011 1:34 am

Band of Bastards
LATER:
"Honorable men of the Imperial Legion. I am Hukral Ox-man, and I am accompanied by my companions just down the road. We are a mercenary band, the Band of Bastards. We served beside the Legion in the War of the Wolf, within the entrenched desert outside Sentinel. Since then, we have wandered as we always do, and now are in need of food and shelter, to rest our horses and ourselves. We also have only recently managed to come to Cyrodiil, and seek the current news of the region. If I could speak to your commander, it would be appreciated."

"Honorable Man-beast!" Petrus rode lazily across an open field up to the towering man. He had been sitting, awaiting a reply of his own on a nearby road when the commotion had peaked his interest. "I sat that war out, and Indeed would love to hear your stories of battle and triumph so that I may then tell them as my own. Since then I have done nothing but am still in need of women and ale. I have only recently come to Fort Sutch and seek entertainment and a place for my manservant and slave. I am the commander, and you are now appreciative!" He smiled as he rode forward, chewing on an apple and looking as if he didnt have a care in the world. His previous absurd appearance was somewhat dulled, the pantaloons and knit cap he wore were just as dirty as ever, but now his finely embroidered doublet and cloak had a fine coating of road dust, dulling the gilt thread.

"You know I'm not terribly convinced that they are one, listening to us and two the imperial legion." Petrus paused to examine a brown spot on the flesh of his green apple. After a moment he shrugged, bit into it, and spat out the offending piece. "No I do believe that our dearly beloved garrison commander is preoccupied with laziness."