OOC: Recycled post ftw! Yes I can use this (and expand it.)


"Bene Sir. We will be camping a valley over toward the west and will contact your Lord." Lucretia remounted the horse and bowed her head slightly side ways offering a soft girlish smile before turning the house around and galloping it back toward her troops. It had taken quite a bit of self control not to inform that pig that she was in good standing with the Caro family that ruled Leyawiin and with a few words she would have had the hog chained by the wrists and dragged behind her horse until all of his gut would of been scraqed off upon the earth and stones. Lucretia lifted up her finger in the air and made a circular movement. The soldiers straight west from their marching line and settled in the valley. A few streams ran through, perfect for everyone to get water resupplied. The four corners of the camp were composed of 500 Pikemen each. The halberdiers number 250 filled the gaps in between and in the center rested the remaining numbers of the army. Long tables had been set in the middle and Lucretia found herself sitting on the edge of one as she watched the soldiers raise their tents. Normally wooden wall would be put around the camp itself but she had not planned on staying too long in the area. She sat with her legs crossed, a small plate resting on her knee used for a the tea cup which she lifted to her lips sipping as she thought over her next course of action.

Lucretia noticed the very same Dunmer from before holding two chairs and walking by. "Hey! You!" He continued to walk but turned his head. "Yes you." Slightly confused he walked toward her placing the chairs down. For a moment she sat there quietly taking another sip and eying him. "Do you keep your face covered in the presence of all ladies or just me?"

"I'm sorry." Finally a voice from him as he showed his youthful face matching his piercing eyes. His long dark hair tied in a braid curled around the left side of his neck which was long and graceful. He had an air of nobility about him, just something different.

"Much better." Lucretia placed the tea cup on her knee holding it with one hand in place. "Where did we recruit you from? You aren't even properly armored so I assume somewhere in Hammerfell. What is your name?"

"Andrethi." He answered and not adding anything else.

"How did you end up in Hammerfell, Andrethi?" She asked trying out his name and liking the feel of it on her lips, the way her tongue tip brushed past her teeth just so as if a kiss when saying the last syllable.

"With the war." His replies were short hoping her curiosity would subside. He had no intention to stick out amongst any of the troops. There were other Dunmer present, he didn't see why he would be anymore interesting.

"Not much of a talker are you?" The tea cup was again lifted for a sip and her leg swung from side to side like a cat's tail.

"Not when unnecessary..." For a moment he paused realizing what he said came out much colder than he had intended. "...I mean."

"It's fine, I knew what you meant." The reply was coupled with a soft laugh. "There's something peculiar about you."

"I don't know." He could feel a flush of warmth wash across his face.

"Or perhaps it's just the musing of a lonely girl on the march." She went to set the tea cup on the table but missed. Andrethi instinctively bent down catching the cup from above, his long fingers grasping on the outside edge. The comment she had previously made were in part to off balance him and catch him off guard and the dropping of the cup was intentional. "You have fast hands, don't you?"

He had been out maneuvered. This noble's daughter turned mercenary captain was much sharper than most would assume. He placed the cup on the table beside her and then hid his hands behind his back. "Will that be all, madam?"

"For now." With a nod he went about his business leaving her to her thoughts. Da'Rasha approached her from the flank now dawning his lammelar armor. Like most Khajiit warriors, he prefered lighter armors made to absorb enemy arrows, which were typically that of Bosmer, and to allow him enough mobility to close in and tear their throats out.

"What was that?" Da'Rasha asked in a protective tone. He owed her his life for freeing him and acted as her personal bodyguard on plenty of occasions.

"There's something about him." Finishing her tea, Lucretia placed both cup and plate on the table. "Prepare a horse for him. He'll be taking me to the Drad Estate."

"What? Shouldn't I go with you?" The ends of his ears raised up in alarm. "We don't even know if he's capable!"

"So test him." Lucretia stood up walking away. "If anything happens to me I need you to watch over the troops."

Da'Rasha, unsatisfied stood up and walked toward the direction Andrethi went briskly. Stopping a couple of the soldiers who were in the area, Da'Rasha drew both of their straight blades and threw one in the air landing tip down in the earth in front of Andrethi who quickly turned around. "Pick it up." The Khajiit snarled putting up the best act of an attack that he could. His feline ears were pulled back and the fangs showed. Although Andrethi had typically used curved blades, he came to appreciate the piercing aspect of straight ones while in High Rock. Lifting it up and holding it straight out with one hand he slowly began to circle. Da'Rasha leaned forward a bit in a low guard. The Khajiit must have looked extremely imposing to the desert garbed Andrethi. Even though the Dunmer reached nearly 6 feet in height he carried a narrow waist and over all lithe form. Da'Rasha on the other hand was about one head taller than he was, armored in high quality lammelar that hugged his obvious muscular build. A circle quickly formed with cheers being made and bets being placed. Lucretia stalked through the crowd watching the tiger and the wolf circle each other.

As Da'Rasha neared, Andrethi backed away and continued to circle giving himself room. The sudden thrust toward the face by Da'Rasha caused Andrethi to rotate his wrist and drop the blade while turning his body from the hip and glancing the flat of his sword against the attacker's diverting it away. For a moment Andrethi was inside the guard and with a turn of his hips in the other direction and a thrust and a twist of his hand it looked like he may have wounded Da'Rasha. But the Khajiit was quick despite his size and threw himself onto the ground rolling off of his left shoulder. A roar of cheers erupted at the fine display of martial prowess on behalf of both of the warriors there.

OOC: I'll finish this later.

Fafnid, Nordic Camp

The six gathered riders sat silently as each man made a last minute check on supplies for the trip to Anvil. There would be no tents for the riders, or any other luxuries such as fine foods and drink. Fafnid wished to be in and out of the city as quick as possible so that he wasn't away from the column for too long. THe people had begun to settle in however as merchant-types began opening crudely made stalls where people could trade for things like strips of cloth, salt or arrows for the massive amount of hunting that his people were doing to the north. He wasn't sure if he was legally allowed to hunt there or not but twenty thousand starving Nords was enough of a reason for him and the elders to allow it so it was happening regardless.

The journey would be made by himself, Granis, Conrad and three other men from his bodyguard that he knew as Horund and Kollroy as well as a small Imperial man called Otus, who looked like a rat among tigers with the large Nords. The man was a scribe, a servant and most importantly, Fafnid hoped a connection could be made between the Imperials in Anvil and the man even if he wasn't of pure Colovian stock. Fafnid could write Nordic and even a little of Colovian and Nibenean dialects but the small man could do so much quicker and more accurately and he elders had asked him to record the meeting.

The day was warm and he chose to not wear his armor, nor had he even bothered to bring the burdensome equipment along. He did however have his trusted blade, Wolfsong, at his hip as he always did. Granis, like Conrad, had refused to go without arming himself completely and his armor reflected the sunlight when it emerged from behind a thick, fluffy cloud. Fafnid adjusted his thin, lynx-hair lined cloak before turning to his companions; all of them men he trusted with his life... save perhaps the scared looking Otus.

"Let us begin our journey then my friends! We stop only when we cannot see our hands before our faces!" With that, he urged his brown mare into a a gentle trot which built to a half-gallop. They would not hold the pace forever, but he wanted to get far enough away from the camp as possible before slowing down. His companions nodded to each other, and did like-wise, following Fafnid in a single file across the hilly plains of northern Colovia on their way to the city of Anvil. The place where Fafnid believed the key to his people's future lay.

Gottshaw Inn

Swims-in-Shadows whirled around at the sound of a Nord's battle cry, looking over the boulder to determine its source. In the eerie reddish-orange glow of the burning inn, he could see a huge Nord leap at the visible, more heavily armored figure with the aid of several spells, although he did not meet with much success; Swims' pursuer managed to dodge the Nord. Swims turned at the sound of the other, more lightly armored enemy approaching. At this distance, Swims could tell that he was a male Dunmer with short hair dressed in leather armor; he looked fairly young, but Swims knew that as a Dunmer he could be well over a century old despite his appearance. Of course, the feature that Swims noticed the most was the spell charging on the Dunmer's hand, probably some sort of Destruction magic by the look of it, aimed at him.

"You damn lizard! Move your clever ass another inch and I'll blow your soul into that rock!" shouted the strange mage before Swims could say anything.

As poor of a situation as he was in to continue to fight, Swims-in-Shadows couldn't help but notice that his position for negotiating with the Nord and the two approaching armored figures couldn't be better. Idiot. Could he incriminate himself more? Threatening to kill me with Destruction magic? Hell, he even used a racist slur! Is he even trying to look innocent? I thought mages were supposed to be smart - he's just making this too easy. Swims slowly placed his crossbow on to the boulder to his left, trying to avoid the appearance of hostility. However, he remained ready to leap to his right or fall flat in case the leather-armored Dunmer mage decided to fire anyway. While he was fairly confident in his ability to dodge anything the Dunmer threw at him, it was an unnecessary risk, and besides, he could easily feign innocence in front of the newcomers if he avoided aggression.

"What in the hell is going on here?" asked the other figure, probably directing the question at the Nord, although Swims couldn't tell, as his current facing made it impossible to see where the other mage's head was turned. From the voice, Swims was able to determine that the other mage was a Dunmer as well, only adding to his smug confidence in his ability to look innocent. Swims-in-Shadows had learned a long time ago that almost no one could read an Argonian's facial expressions, and he had used this natural advantage to become a convincing liar over the course of the last six years. Quickly gathering his wits, he replied to the Dunmer's question.

"I would ask you the same!"

OOC: Post very crap, just trying to get into position to start posting stuff.

IC: Abecean Sea, slightly south of the Brena

"No Shira!" A loud knock woke Hequd up. He hadn't even noticed falling asleep; though that was his reason for comming down to his quarters in the first place, he didn't actually expect that to happen. Thus, he was slightly confused as to what was going on and gestured for whoever it was to come in. That was when he realized that was a knock on his door, so no one could see him as they were closed.

"Come in." Rubbing his eyes, the general tried to shake off his sleepiness. Short naps were never good; they only left him weary and bewildered. It was too late now, so the Crown could only berate himself for falling asleep much later than was intended.

Shahal turned out to be the one who had woken him, the young Raga closing the door behind him as soon as he walked in. "No Shira, the captain says we reached the landing position. The men are ready to leave the ships at your command."

"Very well. Instruct the advance scouts to board their boats and set off. When they've made sure the surrounding area is secure, they are to send the boats back. From there I will lead the first wave myself; if they are truly prepared, then that is all."

"I shall see that this happens, No Shira." With a bow, the young Crown left, leaving Hequd alone once more. Slowly, the general lifted from his chair, trying to fend off his drowsiness and find his armour at the same time. Campaigns without a route of advance or retreat by land were always dangerous, this one was no exception. Therefore, they would have to be extremely careful while landing, for then the troops were most vulnerable. Once the scouts reported back, the most experienced and heavily armoured troops would land first, to cover the others. He would have to be with them and the last thing Sentinel needed was a campaign failing because of a general who fell asleep at the wrong time.

Abacean Sea, Off the coast of Dragongrove

Guillaume rested on the gunwale as he looked out to sea. off in the distance, the province of Hammerfell appeared as just a pencil's line separating the Indigo from the Azure. Ropes creaked and strained as the wind buffeted the sails, throwing the small fleet onward and across the Abecean.

"My Lord Menevia?" The Captain asked with hesitation, trying to get his attention. Guillaume didn't move.

"EUSTACE!" was his only reply. The fat one, eyed servant shuffled along quickly and soon joined the two others.

"Yes my liege?"

"Ask the Captain who he thinks he is addressing one of his better like that?" Guillaume snarled.

"My Lord, I apologize, I was only trying to clarify...." The Captain stammered.

"Who do you think you are addressing one of your betters in so familiar a way?" Eustace snapped, enjoying the power. "You do not have the privilege to speaking directly to the Lord Menevia!" The captain looked first at the back of Guillaume's head, confused, than into the angry eye of Eustace.

"My Lord I hardly think it's necessary...."The captain let out a yelp of pain and crashed to the deck in a heap after a huge backhand from Molyneaux cracked across his temple. The Breton then returned to his post at the gunwale, and smiled as he looked out to sea.

"My Lord Menevia asks that you address your concerns to me so that they may be relayed to him." Eustace squatted down over the prostrate form of the Captain and smiled as the man looked up in shock and horror into his single eye.

"Could you please ask the Duke where he would like us to land upon reaching County Anvil?"

Abecean Sea, slightly south of the Brena

The ride from Hammerfell had been rough on Voranil. The elf leaned over the side of the railing, his golden yellow face green with sea-sickness, the Hammerfell sailors laughing at the tall mage all the while. Voranil glanced back at them darkly, patting his soft robes back into place. He had been sleeping in his cabin when the word had come of the army finally landing. He had rushed up on deck, hoping to be the first one off, only to find it would be several hours more before he could be back on dry land.

'Why didn't I stay on Artaeum?' He sighed, thinking back to the beautiful island he had once called home. His forlorn turned to a hard frown as he remembered how he had left the Order; more precisely, how he had been thrown out.

The door to the lower decks opened with a squeal of sea-worn hinges, an armored Redguard stepping out with all the authority of Phynaster himself. 'Finally!' Voranil thought, hurrying over to the general as quickly as his dignified stride would take him. The elf gave a slow bow; he did not like the man overmuch, but to disrespect the general would have been a risk he was not willing to take.

"Greetings, Hequd No-Shira. I understand we shall be on Imperial soil soon; shall I send word to march to General Sanyon?" The elf's voice was strictly professional, his gaze as neutral as his Psijic teachers'. "He has been known to, ah, take his time assembling his troops."


OOC: Bleh, not feeling it with this guy. I hope you don't mind my assuming No-Shira would be going to the deck, PFA. Thanks.

OOC: Its a bit short

IC:

Almerion, Gottshaw



He landed inches from the armoured figured, who managed to avoid being crushed thanks to Almerions early warning system that was noise, regardless, he wasn’t aiming to harm them -- not just yet. Intimidation was enough.

The vampire stood up slowly, eying the Dunmer’s slightly glowing arm with interest, he backed away toward the Argonian -- arms slightly away from his torso. The black ebony shimmered in the light of the Gottshaw inferno, the pommel jewel on his shoulder glinted malevolently as he flexed the armoured fingers enthusiastically.

“Cease your spell casting elf, I see it as a challenge, a threat!” Almerion spat, his voice full of an obvious sense of authority. It wasn’t a request, it was a demand. “Two men armoured and armed with weapons, capable of casting destructive magic if your heritage is any indication of your abilities. Both chasing a single Argonian through the dark, attacking and shouting slurs. I question your innocence foolish ones!”

As he said the last two words he took a step forward, his mouth open, tongue caressing one long thin tooth.

OOC:

Guys, I am kind of tired. Last Driver's Education class is tomorrow. I am just not feeling it to my fullest ability.


Arethan Andas, Servyn Velothi; Gottshaw Inn

Arethan took a step back, but not one inch of fear stood upon his pupils. He still held the same grim look on his face, as he retreated his energy from his hand. Servyn still watched Swims closely, and kept a good distance, trying to avoid any use of a melee weapon Swims had, which appeared to be the spear. Arethan pulled his hand to his side, doing best not to break this situation into a fight. He knew he could probably take the Argonian down easily. However, he hadn't seen anything like the arm before, and he didn't want to find out its exact capability. He figured he'd speak nicely to the Nord, and try to explain his case. Fighting was a last resort at this point, unless it was absolutely needed.

"I and my friend here rode up from the east. There was some kind of earthquake or something, and our horses just [censored] it. One broke its leg, and the other took off. You think I could see anything in this damn dark and all the smoke that came from the inn? I cast a few spells, made sure I could see everything, and this little bugger..."

Arethan pointed to Swims.

"...was just standing still right behind the inn. Something exploded, and almost killed me, and then we saw him crouching beside the inn next to a broken window..."

Arethan shot out an annoyed facial expression, cocking both of his brows.

This bastard just doesn't know who I am, does he? Destruction magic? I could've blown this lizard into pieces!

"I didn't attack him. He just looked suspicious..."

Arethan gleamed over at Servyn, who still had the nervous, shivering look on his face. His arm still readied a spell, and Arethan nodded towards his companion.

"Servyn, put it down. Release your spell."

Servyn nodded from one side to the other in a slow manner, his shocked face gleaming slightly from the light of his hands. His lips moved slowly, as the words echoed through the night.

"I...I don't trust him, or his crossbow..."

Then, Servyn's eyes widened.

"Or...that thing on his arm...it glows..."

Arethan looked puzzled, as Servyn slowly gulped, and used his other hand to point to Swims gauntlet. However, it was hardly visible without a good night eye spell, and even from Arethan's distance, he couldn't see it quite well. Servyn, however, had a good view on it. It looked different. It looked as if it was made of glass along with a few veins of adamantine, but it had the same magical reflection most enchanted things wore across their borders. Of course, the last thing on either of them's mind was that it made things collapse; however, they both considered the possibility of it being a dangerous melee weapon. Arethan took a few steps back. He didn't usually tell people who he was, and he didn't like to, but maybe if he did, it would get him out of this situation. He then looked at the Nord's arm, and his cheek shot up in a nervous manner, almost as if it was a twitch. He had encountered many Nords in Skyrim, and Arethan could easily tell the man was a Nord. However, even with night-eye, he couldn't tell the man was a vampire, though he had his suspicions.

"Wha...What's your name, Nord?"

Arethan still looked nervously at the arm, looking around, his eyes twisting about violently, as his hand reached to grab onto the leather sack which he held on his belt. His head tilted downward, as he looked down and gripped it ever so tightly, not in a hostile manner, but in a seeming manner of shock.

"We...We need a torch. You can't see anything out here."

Gottshaw Inn, Forest

Antony charged through the brush towards all the commotion, he didn't even look back to see who was following. When he emerged into the clearing he saw two armored figures, of an indistinguishable race, a fierce looking Nord, and off a little ways a single argonian. Everyone was shouting accusations at each other, it seemed from what the Nord and the lizard man were saying that the two armored figures casting about in the forest were the ones who waylaid the Inn.

Antony, a young man trained in politics, arms and the arcane knew there was more to this than he was seeing. There was no was nothing anyone could prove at this moment, and he could sense the tendrils of magic emanating from multiple targets. His own human sense could tell him, mainly the adrenaline pumping through his veins, that a fight could soon erupt.

Coming closer he past a copse of trees and passed some wild blackberries.

The others for sure had seen him and whoever was following come into view. Sword raised in one hand, lightning readied in the other.

" What in the nine lands is going on here!" Antony shouted.

Alaudis Archen - Gottshaw Inn (Forest)

---

Alaudis raced, keeping pace with the Imperial. He kept a tough hold on his arrow, making sure not to lose it as he charged through bushes and thorns. His armor protected his skin, though his uncovered cheeks were scratched in many places, adding to the boyish look of his face. They continued to run, and abruptly came to a clearing in the forest, where a few other men stood. He could feel the tension in the air at present, and he began to wonder even more what was really going on here. He could already tell, what happened at the inn was no accident.

As Antony came to a stop, Alaudis stopped as well. He rose his bow, and pulled the string back, his fingertips gripping the iron arrow. From what he could see, he picked a target from the small crowd. A dunmer man, dressed in leather armor. He stood silent, keeping his eye steady on his target. He said nothing, and left the talking up to the Imperial. He couldn't stop his mind from racing, as always tended to be the case. There was much to wonder about, who were these people, what happened at the inn, and what was about to ensue on this night?

The noise began to settle in the clearing, the wind paused, and the wisping noises from the trees and bushes settled with it. Alaudis waited for someone to respond to Antony.

Road to Drad Estate

Lucretia watched Andrethi from behind as their horses made their way through the road. Two servants followed behind Lucretia's horse, one named Pavlo, a taller broad shouldered man carrying a bardiche and the other named Rz?dzian, a thinner man holding a crossbow. They were both dressed in long fur coats and a fur hat typical of their origins in Skyrim. All three walked quietly in amazement at the Dunmer before them. They had not seen anyone stand on their legs against Da'Rasha and it wasn't long until the Khajiit was satisfied with his show of martial prowess. Lucretia being of nobility could also recognize a spell when she saw it, and Andrethi was a craft user of great ability in part because he hid its use so well.

"Pavlo..." The two servants in the back began speaking to one another.

"Da?" Pavlo kept walking and holding the bardiche on his shoulder not breaking eye contact with the Dunmer's horse. They spoke with their own language apart from the Nords as they were descendants of the original human inhabitants of Skyrim before even the great Nordic migration. Although in general historiography most in the Empire referred to anyone born in Skyrim for the most part as being Nord, they had their own distinct identity as "Kyevs" from the semi mythical city of Kyev which was supposedly buried in ice by vengeful Falmer before the Nordic arrival. No one knows if the city really existed and gave name to the people or if it was a metaphor for the people themselves following the conquest of the Falmer.

"That chiort born fights like a devil!" Rzedzian whispered quietly to make sure he wasn't heard.

"Da." Pavlo seemed worried but uninterested in having the conversation.

"What are you two talking about? Quiet down!" Lucretia hissed over her shoulder.

"Dobre Voiniaca..." Pavlo bowed his head slightly as he spoke in his native language meaning 'Very well warrioress' and was done with it.

"Now come on, I can speak my mind if I need to. I may be your servant but I am also still a noble...although impoverished. I demand respect!" Rzedzian wagged his finger and stuck his head up causing the feather in his cap to wave about. Lucretia rolled her eyes as if saying 'here we go again.' "And for seventeen generations my family has been on our lands..."

Just then Andrethi lifted up his hand and stopped his horse. His eyes darted from side to side and with the hiss of the cutting wind he threw himself sideways in his saddle as an arrow narrowly missed him. His keen ears had picked up the tensing sound of the bow being drawn. In that second Lucretia lifted up the crossbow she had slung over her shoulder already preloaded and shot into the grouping of trees ahead off to their right. A cry was heard and a body dropped. From the left four armed men rushed out of the bushes toward Andrethi. Lucretia handed her emptied crossbow to Rzedzian while he handed her in return the loaded one he was carrying. Before the four men could reach Andrethi another one had fallen to her accurate shooting. "Come on, crossbow!" She cried to Rzdezian trying to get him to hurry.

The already unbalanced horse reared up and fell on it's side at the sight of the men jumping out. Andrethi was careful not to get his leg stuck and instead rolled twice, the second time having drawn his long curved dagger in his left hand and with his right holding the crude hatchet. The four men attempted to surround Andrethi and two more men rushing from the right completed the circle. Pavlo stood in front of Lucretia's horse with his bardiche in his hands ready to thwart off any attackers. "Pavlo, go!" And with that the large Kyev made a quick over head swing with full force at one of the men preparing to attack Andrethi. The sound of flesh being torn and bone shattered wouldn't be much unlike that of a butcher shop aside from the human scream that followed.

Lucretia aimed carefully for another target but before she could unleash another bolt, a rope was thrown around her waist and she was pulled off her horse. Rzdezian attempted to catch the falling woman but was too himself knocked down by the force which she was pulled. Behind them both two more assailants arrived each armed with a spear and pointing them toward Lucretia who's fall was broken by Rzedzian. They were all dressed in fairly ragged clothes and cheap leather. They seemed like nothing more than common bandits and the sight of them infuriated Lucretia who by now figured that the attackers wanted to capture her and ransom her off considering that she looked wealthy.

Back at the front Pavlo had created enough of a distraction with his quick work with the bardiche that Andrethi used the opening to duck down and impale one of the attacker's feet into the ground with his long dagger while at the same time swinging his hatchet side ways striking the man in his left hip. The sound of the crack signaled Andrethi's next maneuver, as he stood up a rising slash with the dagger ensured that much of the man's flesh on his torso and face would be separated. In truth Andrethi excelled in fighting out numbered. The enemy's moves had to be conservative enough not to harm those allies around them while Andrethi could be as unpredictable as he wanted to. He held his dagger up using the reflection which was now stained by blood, to show what was behind him. Another scream was heard as a leg was severed by Pavlo's bardiche and with that Andrethi had the distraction he needed piercing one of the assailant's faces with the dagger and bringing down the hatchet to the top of the head allowing the blade to be freed from the man.

Behind them Lucretia struggled to stand up while Rzdezian reached for his knife to cut her free. Managing to do so quickly, the attackers were surprised to find Lucretia to be a bit of a spell caster. A burst of fire seared one of the attackers causing the other to run away. As she turned around she got to see once more Andrethi's masterful use of his weaponry and a subtle under tone of illusion which she learned to observe in her childhood amongst the nobility. The bandits had no chance. Every swing or thrust was aimed just slightly off by an illusionary spell that they would miss leaving themselves open for the Dunmer's relentless attacks. He spun on his knees while kicking off the ground, his body whirling at a low level casting, cutting, he seemed to lose himself in it. Lucretia's heart jumped as she thought she may have even seen a smile.

Gottshaw Inn

Swims-in-Shadows listened patiently to the Dunmer's account of what had happened, not wanting to interrupt or show any sign of hostility. He was fairly certain the strange mage was telling the truth about what he had seen, which made the detail about the minor earthquake all the more exciting, all though Swims' inexpressive face betrayed no hint of emotion. An earthquake? This thing may be even more useful than I thought. If I use it right, who knows how many people I can kill? I should test it once I'm out of this. Still, the matter at hand weighed more heavily on his mind than any form of potential use he could get out of the gauntlet; if he didn't live to test out this unknown capability, then having it to begin with would be worthless. The Dunmer mage laid out his story calmly and logically and with genuine sincerity, and Swims knew that he was telling the truth from both the tone of his voice and the tale's compatibility with what had actually transpired. However, he did gain a small amount of satisfaction by hearing himself described as a "little bugger;" the familiar unconscious racism of the Dunmer set him at ease, and he was fairly sure that these two were the Great House variety he had become accustomed to dealing with during his time in Morrowind. Still, aside from the minor slip, the story seemed very believable, lacking in malice almost entirely. So he's trying to explain this reasonably and calmly? Two can play at that game. Swims waited for the leather-armored mage in front of him, apparently named Servyn, to release his charging destruction spell, before speaking again.

"To be perfectly honest," said Swims to Servyn in perfect Dunmeri, "I can't say that I trust that glowing thing on your arm, either. You know, the spell you just threatened to kill me with. But, no hard feelings." However, before he could say anything else, two more strangers arrived.

"What in the nine lands is going on here!" shouted one of them. Swims responded quickly, this time in Cyrodiilic. His story was directed at both newcomers, the Nord, and both Dunmer, as he turned from one person to the next throughout, making sure they all heard him.

"I was out in the woods nearby when I heard a loud noise from the inn, as if it had fallen. I came here to investigate. and the fire started while I was just showing up; that's why you two saw me by the broken window." he said, motioning towards Servyn and the other Dunmer. "I noticed you two hiding behind a tree, and I assumed you had done it and you planned to kill me. So I ran and prepared for a fight. However, from your story, it seems like I was mistaken; it does not sound like you two are responsible for this catastrophe."

Abecean Sea, slightly south of the Brena

Hequd shot a quick glance at the Altmer; if the mer was quick, he would catch a glimpse of disguist in the general's eyes. It was no secret the messenger from the Dominion practiced the profane arts so common in Tamriel and was actually rather proficient with them. The fact the Aldmeri Dominion was Hammerfell's ally in this changed little; the Crown approved neither of magick nor of Altmer in general. However, he was the representative of the High King for the purposes of this campaign and open hostility would not be appropriate. The court in Sentinel, while apparently as reluctant to extensively interact with the leaders of Summerset, at least tolerated them, so he would have to as well.

Concerning himself for a moment with checking if his briastplate's straps were holding instead of answering the mage, finally the general turned to face him. "Indeed, it would be most welcome if our allies were to march out. Inform your general that we have arrived and if he wishes to partake in this campaign, he is to assemble his men with more haste than I heard him capable of. Dominion or no Dominion, Hammerfell will carry on with the campaign."

Though Hequd did not sound or look hostile, he did make it quite obvious he had little respect for the Dominion's war machine. The Legion never fought them with the ferocity the Ra Gada had to face in the War of the Wolves. Even the best warrior couldn't fight without food or drink and a legion without supplies was what faced the elves during their war for freedom. Not even freedom too, but merely the right to impose their will upon others in the Imperials' stead. The Aldmeri were too greedy, and already they had been tied down in Elsweyr, unable to conquer it.

The elves fight without spirit, not for a cause but out of greed. They may be our allies, but mere alliances do not earn respect from warriors.

The boats with the scouts had already left. Hopefully, everything would go according to Hequd's plan and this landing could be executed swiftly and without jeopardizing the men. Though they were at war with an enemy and the general desired vengeance for all the wrongs suffered during the War of the Wolves, he also wished to save as many Raga as possible from dying on foreign shores. Going to this war seemed like a mistake to him, but he was a general; when Sentinel told him to march troops to the Cyrodils' land, he did. Perhaps he did not like to question it because it was the easy way out... If someone asked, he couldn't answer.

Road to Sutch, outside of the Drad Estate

Petrus reigned in his horse on a knoll overlooking the Tournament. Brightly colored fanions and banners flapped in the light wind. In the distance he could hear the faint shouts of the crowd and the clang of steel. His horse's flanks were white with sweat, and it's tongue lolled out of it's mouth. The Vescomte patted down it's neck. Her lungs breathed deep enough that he could feel the movement of it's ribs between his legs.

"It's not quite that much farther, boy" Petrus smoothed out the horse's mane as best he could. He leaned down onto its neck to check the breathing when the ring of weapons caused him to peak his ears. It seemed somewhat closer than the tournament, and definitely more urgent. "You can rest at the end, girl...Come on Rupert!"

Raking back his spurs brought, him, his box and the exhausted horse further down the road and into a stretch of blood-soaked road. as he rounded the corner and the scene nfolded before him, a panicked and rough looking man sprinted past as if the hounds of hell were after him. Further down, a woman, dunmer and kahjiit were flaying the group of bandits to pieces. It was all a whorl of baldes and violence.

"No, Rupert...We're going to sit this one out and see how it goes, theres no need to bring more violence."

Falinesti, Capital of the Thalmor

General Sanyon

The line of soldiers appeared as little more than ants from Sanyon's high vantage; his troops, he thought with pride. Beside the extravagantly dressed Altmer stood his half-breed steward, Goranthir, and on his other side his Bosmer brigadier, Daenlin. The wood elf hardly reached the general's chest, yet he still managed to look imposing beside the lanky Altmer, his decorated armor and long-bow both made of pure white bone. Four scarlet stripes ran down his right pauldron, proof in blood of his rank and authority.

"We shall reach Valkwasten by sunset." Daenlin began stiffly, never taking his cold eyes from the rows of soldiers. "The Raga humans sent word of their landing. They shall meet us at Anvil."

"Hmm..." Sanyon stroked his smooth chin, his cheeks ruddy from wine, the shade of an underripe tangerine. "We should probably get down there."

"As you say, sir," Goranthir nodded swiftly, apparently used to his commander's inebriation. The half-breed called for one of the many platform operators that lined Falinesti, strong armed Bosmer that transported people up and down the great tree. The trio were quickly on the forest floor, the road cleared of the usual debris, and immediately escorted into Sanyon's intricate coach, pulled by a small team of well dressed Imga.

Goranthir doubted he would ever become comfortable around the giant apes; they were useful enough, but he did not trust them half as much as the locals seemed to. As he took his velvet seat beside Sanyon the general clapped one long arm around his shoulders, leaning on him in a friendly fashion.

"Yes, well, let's get on our way, shall we?" Goranthir signalled the driver, gingerly replacing his commander's arm at his side.

"That's why I love you, Goran," the Altmer mumbled, "Because you're such a good friend. Not like these damn Bosmer." Daenlin raised a thin eyebrow at the remark, but said nothing.

Goranthir gave a long sigh, resting his own arm against the window, watching the forest pass by with a forlorn look.


OOC: Eh, I like having such an inept general, but I'm really not feeling the whole Valenwood vibe. Oh well :shrug:

Gottshaw Inn

Titus lay on the ground his arm throbbing from the burns he had revived. His camouflage was on his left arm was burned off and the arm itself was bright red and in some areas black. This arm had suffered third degree burns and blisters had already formed, but at the same time Titus had no idea who put out the flame that had consumed his "armor."

"Mister, are you ok?" The familiar child's voice came from the body standing over him.

Titus' adrenalin had passed and he was now in a slightly drunken state, "I hope I won't remember his in the morning," Titus mumbled as he looked up at the child.

"Son, leave the man alone," said a voice that Titus figured was the boy's father, "Sir, can you stand? You passed out from the pain, and there seems to be fighting or something happening on the other side of the Inn. We heard a loud shout that sounded like it came from a Nord or a beast. We need to get out of here."

"No," Titus managed to stand to look at the fire roaring over then Inn, "I am in no condition to fight, but I think I can manage to carry buckets of water from that well to the fire and try and put it out. Take your family and hurry to Anvil, if there is a fighting going on then you do not want to be here."

"My Talos watch over you."

"As to you," Titus thought as he ran to the well in front of the Inn.

Titus dropped the bucket and quickly pulled it up, he then ran to the door of the Inn where the fire spread to and tossed the water at the flames. After five buckets of water the door way was clear of fire. Titus had managed to take back a small part of the Inn from the fire. It was at this point Titus reentered the Inn area to see the situation. The floor had collapsed and the fire spread throughout the basemant.

Seeing this Titus new that the Inn was a lost cause and rushed out just as a crate of alcohol exploded and a plume of fire shot into the air. "This was such a good day too. I guess I will just see what all the shouting is about."

OOC: There's no Khajiit!

IC:

With the dispersemant of the bandits the four had a moment to breath. Not much sooner however the sounds of horses was heard behind the group. Rzedzian lifted up the crossbow he had aiming it at the new comers. Pavlo already began running toward Lucretia's side but Andrethi stood still, he was actually paying attention to anyone else that may come from the flanks. "Did you send these men after us?" Lucretia had her unloaded crossbow held in her left hand but was ready to draw a blade with her right.

OOC: Not much to post to such an encounter tbh. =/

Almerion, Gottshaw woods


Words exchanged but almost all where lost on him save for the last: ‘we need a torch…”, his eyes closed in an exaggerated blink as he pictured the flaming wooden stick flying towards him inside the Gottshaw just minutes ago, though it felt like hours. If these two armoured men had no torches, then who threw it?

Although, Almerion thought as the Argonian recounted his story of what happened. Perhaps that is exactly why they are asking for a spare torch, because they used their only one to set the inn ablaze. They are quite clearly talented casters -- they would no be incapable of destroying an old, however well maintained building like this.

"I noticed you two hiding behind a tree, and I assumed you had done it and you planned to kill me. So I ran and prepared for a fight. However, from your story, it seems like I was mistaken; it does not sound like you two are responsible for this catastrophe." The Argonian finished finally, Almerion eying the new comers and old hats of the odd group stood conversing next to a burning building in the woods, when they could be helping to put it out. However, he was a vampire with a severe allergy to heat -- all he could do to help is try to smother the flames with his own ashes.

However, he ignored the burning building for another minute, determined to speak his mind before another wistful tale of events from another bleeding heart and teary newcomer to their impromptu support group; “You did it!” he snarled, pointing at the two armoured mages. “When I was in the inn I saw a torch fly through the window and ignite the spilt spirits. The image of it is quite vividly burnt into my mind, considering how it also scorched my face.
Every one present save myself and you two seems to be in possession of a torch or other means of navigating the dark, why don’t you? Did you use your last torch to ignite the inn? Why don’t you come quietly men, when I was inside there trying to escape the flames, I made a promise to myself that I would peel away the skin of the one responsible and pluck every living tendon in his body. I warn you, if you choose the hard way out of this, I intend to live up to that very promise.” There was no mistaking the mischievous malice in his voice -- he was sure that the two where innocent.

He just had a bad experience with a her-hand in the past.

OOC: Obvious uninspired post to move things is obvious.

IC: Abecean Sea, slightly south of the Brena

It didn't take too long for the Raga scouts to send the boats back, signalling that they had found no threats in the immediate area and the rest of the army could go ahead and land. Hequd was the first to depart, along with his heavier, more experienced troops - Tabardariyya, urban infantry, heavy spearmen and the naphtha throwers. If Anvil did know of their presence here and intended to ambush the army at its weakest, these troops would be capable of shielding the rest of the army. The rest of the foot troops would land after them, being lighter armed and less reliable in such circumstances. Finally, after them, the cavalrymen would land with their horses. The army wouldn't set up camp immediately, but instead march the short bit to the Imperial-built road that ran from Anvil to Rihad and then beyond along the southern coast. On the wide road they would be safer; there, they would build a camp for the night and afterwards would continue south early in the morning, where they were supposed to link up with Lucretia and her mercenary forces that had been hired for the purposes of this conflict.

Petrus looked in surprise at the accusation, but he didn't speak for a moment, merely surveyed the scene.

"Are you important enough to have people sent after you? I mean I suppose I could, but it seems like an awful lot of effort. Would you like me to send someone after you? I can if you want...well not me personally but I'll send Rupert back to the camp to gather some people to hunt you down." Petrus looked down at the box in his hand and spoke some soft words to it before pausing and looking up. "You'll have to wait until later I don't know if he is feeling up to it, the long journey has tired him out. But I will promise you that I'll send some men after you once I reach Fort Sutch, I can't imagine that it's that much farther...Would you mind waiting here?"

The Vescomte suddenly looked astonished and taken aback as he noticed something.

"By the Nine! By your briasts, you appear to be a woman! Or maybe a poorly disproportionate man...either way, I'm surprised you'd want me to send men after you. There is a possibility of ravishing after all. No, I must protest...If you still insist I send men to hunt you down at least try to hide in some bushes or maybe a very tall tree. I can't have women being ravished left and right on these roads, It just isn't natural!."

OOC: Not feeling it at the moment.

Arethan Andas, Servyn Velothi; Gottshaw Inn

He thinks I need a torch?

Arethan took a grim look at the vampire, straining his brows forth and tensing his facial muscles. He quickly pointed to the north side of the inn, which wasn't exactly front face visible by now. He still loosely managed to hold his calm voice, but gave a more grim, stern stone to it. Nonetheless, it wouldn't be long before he just simply lost his temper.

"There's no damn window on the north side of the inn, Nord. And bah, you think I need a torch, of all things?"

Well he needs to get some f*cking sense, before throwing off random accusations. I never outright accused anyone...

"I don't carry a bloody torch for a few reasons, Nord. If I have to, I'm more than capable at using magick. But unfortunately now, since someone blew up this place and my damn horse with it, I'm stuck ass-fed out here in the middle of the f*cking night, with no where in the next 10 miles to even think about getting a horse or food, I guess we'll just have to find a damn cave then. I don't need one of those blasted torches!"

Arethan summoned a sphere of white, glowing light from his hand. It lit up the surrounding area, making everything entirely visible. Next, he unstrapped his steel plated hand-guard and opened up the leather sack, pulling out his http://members.shaw.ca/rado907/armor/heavy/mor-herhandarmor.jpg and slipping it on. In the light, it would be recognizable by anyone who had anything to do with the Morrowind Temple, whether it was by birth or possible confrontation. The Dunmeri was about to just simply begin walking off to find the nearest place of shelter, but he did manage to gather enough sense that that would indeed incite more evidence against him. He took one last glare towards the Nord, managing to calm his voice.

"Listen to the Argonian. Of all things, even he admitted to seeing us come from the north side..."

Arethan's mind stopped, as he glanced towards the lizard. He then remembered that the torch had come through a window. His eyes widened, as he turned back to the Nord once more.

"Hold it. You said the torch came through a window?"

The lizard did it. He threw the torch. But what in the hell did he use to blow up that inn?

"Which direction did it come from?"

Alaudis Archen - Gottshaw Inn (Forest)

---

While the others attempted to root out the culprit, Alaudis had it all figured out, or so it seemed to him. He took a step forward, lowering his bow slightly but keeping his aim on Servyn, though he didn't really have any reason to do so, he just hadn't thought about it. His voice quavered slightly as he began to speak. "I... I know what happened here." All courage and fuel for adventure was gone now that he was the center of attention in this standoff, or at least he felt like he was. As usual, his mind began racing with thoughts of what the arsonist may be able to do, or actually do, to him. Still, he had already piped up, and there was no turning back. Opening his mouth, words did not escape his lips, he breathed in deeply, and began to speak.

"I saw the fire start on the eastern side of the inn while I was coming towards the it from the road, and that's when I saw you two," He quickly glanced from Servyn to Arethan and back. "chasing after someone." While this was all true, he hadn't given up enough information for everything to come full circle. Breathing in the cool night air once again, he continued to speak. "Now I know I doubt that whoever did this would have came around the other side and gone back to the front of the inn, because he could be caught." Alaudis felt as though the group of people around him were tired of him babbling, so he decided to finish up. "Antony and I followed after you to find out what happened, and I can only guess that you were chasing after the Argonian over there," He motioned his head toward Swims-in-Shadows. "So unless you were chasing after..."

Alaudis paused in his speech, he had no idea what the Nord's name was, and he didn't want to offend him by calling him by race, as he knew most Nords were not fond of smaller races and magic users. He looked toward the Nord slowly and continued. "...him.... Then it must have been the Argonian." Having no more interest in the Nord, he looked back at Servyn. He had finished with his accusations and stood quietly. As nobody else spoke for a few moments, Alaudis said one more thing. "We need to do something about this."

Gottshaw Inn

Swims-in-Shadows had developed an almost smug confidence in his convincing lie of a tale, but it was quickly shaken when the Dunmer mage Arethan paused in his use of Swims' alibi to support his own. Still, his outburst of anger and subsequent questioning of the Nord did not seem to Swims a major problem; considering the Nord's bias against him, it would likely get him nowhere. And the newcomers are just in time to see this guy lose it. Perfect. Just as his confidence waxed again, however, it was dealt another major blow, this time by one of the newcomers, a Breton.

"I... I know what happened here." said the bow-wielding Breton with what sounded to Swims like nervousness in his voice. Swims listened patiently through the young Breton's account, although his heart skipped a beat in shock when the man explained how he knew Arethan and Servyn were innocent. He's certainly on to something. This makes quite a bit of sense. Smart guy. I'm impressed he managed to figure all of this out on his own. Swims was filled with a grudging respect for the Breton as he waited for him to deliver the inevitable conclusion to his speech. Still, the young man's hesitance and slow, calm explanation gave plenty of time for him to formulate a plan. Stealthily and inconspicuously, he reached backwards with his left hand, feeling around for his crossbow and taking comfort in his somewhat obscured position. Thanks to the boulder and the hill, Servyn was the only one with a clear view of Swims, although the rest of the adventurers would be able to at least partially see him, especially in the light shed by Arethan's spell. With any luck, they wouldn't notice his hand going to the loaded crossbow on the boulder behind him. After a few moments of searching blindly on the smooth rock, Swims felt the familiar wooden stock of his crossbow under his chitin-armored fingers. Keeping his eyes on the speaking Breton and keeping Servyn in his peripheral vision, he waited for the ideal time to strike, finding the trigger with his left index finger.

"We need to do something about this." said the young Breton, concluding his explanation. Now! Swims swung his crossbow up at Servyn with incredible alacrity and pulled the trigger. Although he didn't have much time to aim, he was fairly confident in his ability to hit the Dunmer at point blank range. If Servyn hadn't noticed Swims feeling for his crossbow, he wouldn't have time to cast a spell to protect himself from the sudden shot. Then, immediately after releasing the bolt, still holding his crossbow in his left hand, Swims sprinted off down the hill on the side opposite the adventurers and into the woods, dodging between trees and boulders. Dipping below the hilltop would keep him out of line of sight and fire of the archer and the mage and buy him a little extra time for a head start. Swims was fairly sure that he would be able to outrun the more heavily armored adventurers, as he was wearing less than most of them and was fast even by Argonian standards. He had certainly escaped from worse situations before, and expected he would be able to do it once more.

Almerion, Gottshaw wood’s




The Breton spoke nervously after the Dunmers double outburst, one verbal, one magickal light. Almerion squinted uncomfortably through the glaring white with his overly sensitive eyes. Quite visibly p*ssed off by the spell.

He was solving equations and playing out scenarios in his head as the Breton slowly came to a finish, the final outcome and result of each sum and scenario leading to one objective – silence the Dunmer.

A click of a wooden trigger and the pang of a taught rope broke the still night air as Almerion lunged forward to the Dunmer. The Argonian’s guild had been proven when the Vampire inadvertently took a bolt to the back of his right shoulder for the Dunmer, acting more like a bodyguard than attacked.

He went down to the floor, landing on his pierced shoulder with a muffled grunt, snapping the protruding bolt head from the shaft on landing. He snarled and reared, grabbing a handful of fallen leaves and dirt as he retrieved the bolt head before setting off at full pelt after the Argonian – determined to use his own bolt to peel off the scales around his eyes.




OOC: Crappy post, but it gets me away from the group in Gottshaw so I can get Almerion to Anvil.

And it's true, I do take any opportunity to injure my characters.

OOC: For the sake of moving this thing along, I am saying my boys left a few days prior to even the tavern events which take place the previous night.

Fafnid and Friends, Lord Drad's Estate

The six mounted Nords looked down from the small hill they had scaled to get a better look at the flags and banners that they had seen from a distance. They had feared it to be an army of some sort, but they were relieved to see that it was no more than some merry-making at what Fafnid supposed was a local lords estate. He did not know how far they were from Anvil either and they had done some hard riding today. Plus there was sure to be mead served in at the gathering.

He turned to his companions with a grin from under his thick beard. "Might as well. Besides, we can get some directions to Anvil."

They left their horses, along with Horund and Kollroy, in their new campsite behind the hill, while Fafnid, Conrad, Granis and Otus made their way on foot around the hill. The area around the estate was teeming with folk drinking, talking, singing and generally having a good time. They drew a few concerned looks from parents who hugged their children close at the sight of the massive and imposingly armored Conrad. Fafnid just smiled at each of them and encouraged his men to do the same. He led them through the many open air tents and past the front of the estate, until he finally found someone a little more knowledgeable on the questions that Fafnid had.

"Excuse me, good sir!" he said, drawing the man's attention his way. He was clearly a noble, or at least of merchant class because his clothes were clean and of finer quality. His eyes widened at the sight of three imposing Nords, especially the ever ferocious looking Conrad. Seeing he had the man's attention, Fafnid continued. "Could you help an old Nord in finding his way to Anvil? We have a meeting with the Countess and we'd hate to be late." he said with a frown, though his tone remained light.

The Colovian said nothing for a few seconds but finally he seemed to decide that these men were in fact, real and were not going to murder him on the spot. "Well if you be searching for the Countess, than you are out of luck. Her and the Count have left for Skingrad in light of the damned Redguard's."

This was news to Fafnid and his frown deepened as he glanced back at his fellows. "Well there must be someone in charge in the county." he remarked, leading the man on.

"Indeed, sir. And you do not need to ride any further tonight for Don Miquel is the person you seek. He is in charge in light of the Umbranoxs' and is at this fair this very moment. In his tent, over there."

He pointed a small distance away to a large and ornate looking tent. The Colovian man dropped his voice a little and moved in closer to Fafnid. "He, uhhh... He has suffered some injuries in the jousting earlier. But you didn't hear that from me." he added with a wink. "Good luck in whatever business you have with the young Umbranox!"

"Thank you fine sir. Buy yourself some more wine with this!" he exclaimed, slipping a few gold coins into the man's pudgy hands before taking off towards the tent. Outside, a man was either standing guard or was just idling around. Either way, Fafnid stepped up with a smile that shone out from under his long beard, which was tucked into his belt again.

"I'd like to speak with Miquel Umbranox. I had a meeting with the COuntess but I have been informed that she has 'flown the coop', if I may use that expression. I am from the Nordic column." he added at the end, seeing the man's confused expression. He waited for the man to enter the tent and announce their arrival or at the very least, he would go and tell somebody who had actual authority that Fafnid was here.