Howdy folks.



IC:

Newlands Lodge

The dining room was sparsely populated, and made the disfigured Dunmer sitting by himself in the corner of the room seem even more forlorn. He sat stiffly in his chair, his right hand grasping a mug tightly, his left lying limp in his lap. The burning red eye that had not been forced shut by scar tissue stared, unwavering into the dark depths of his glass, only disturbed by the occasional flutter of an eyelid as he blinked. He appeared to be almost in a trance, completely enthralled by the passive liquid he had barely tasted. The other tenants had long since given up inspecting him, as he gave no indication as to his purpose or intentions. They could only assume he was waiting for something.

Indeed, Drevas Rothryn was waiting. Not for something. For someone.

Truth be told, Drevas knew next to nothing about this Serosi character. Only what he had picked up from the rumor mill amongst his Morag Tong comrades. He had never met the man in person, and rarely did Drevas put any faith into rumors. In his experience, accepting rumors with anything more than a grain of salt usually got you into trouble. But a mission was a mission, and he had been tasked with finding Serosi and returning him to Mournhold. By any means necessary.

By any means necessary...

Drevas wasn't used to those sort of qualifiers. He was an assassin. His job was to kill. Of course, he had never been tasked with killing a fellow Morag Tong member before, and Drevas got the distinct feeling that the higher ups would prefer to deal with Serosi themselves. It didn't matter much to Drevas. Either way, he was going to complete the mission.

However, something had been nagging at him from the get go. What were Serosi's motives? Drevas rarely gave much thought to the inner-workings of his targets, but this time it was different. It was one of his own that he was after. Everyone within the Morag Tong seemed totally dedicated to the cause, never willing to risk the good of the group for their own gains. But this Serosi was different. He seemed to completely disregard the Tong's desire for secrecy and subtlety. Perhaps it hit too close to home for Drevas. Maybe he wasn't used to seeing thoughts and emotions so similar to his own reflected back at him. Whatever the reason, it had made Drevas uneasy. For the first time in a long while, Drevas had doubts. Doubts about the mission, about his target... and most surprisingly, doubts about himself.

Drevas just hoped that when the time came, his instincts, which had kept him alive for all this time, would not fail him

Faction and Rank: DB. Silencer.

Name: Dralithil

Race:Bosmer

Gender:Male

Age:35

Birthsign: The Serpent

Physical description: Tall for a male Bosmer, Dralithil stands close to 6ft tall. His silver hair is kept in a ponytail and is allowed to grow halfway down his back. His lean, muscular frame is covered in scars, with the largest being the one on his back that reachs down from his left shoulder to his right hip. The one most noticed though is the one on his face that starts on his left upper lip and stops at his chin. Although his eyes are rarely seen, they are a beatiful shade of dark green.

Short Bio: Born deep in Valenwood in a small village, Dralithil and his brother was brought up learning how to hunt and use various weapons to survive in the harsh forest. From the time he was young though, his father knew there was something diffirent about his youngest son. Unlike his older brother, he showed no remorse or sympathy for any of the creatures he hunted for food, and this translated over to how he treated people. Then it happened. Dralithil killed his older brother in his sleep after a argument over a family matter. Standing over his brothers lifeless body without emotion, he knew then and there he had to leave and could never return. Gathering his belongings, he took off into the woods and down a dark path.

Weapons:
A yatagan made of adamantium with a ivory handle. It has a mild burden and strong silence enchantment on it. It is used mostly for any up close work.
A small oak crossbow with several dozen bolts. Many are enchanted with various enchantments, and colored stripes upon the bolts help sort out which one would be right for the job.
A small silver dagger with a slight curve to it. Stays coated in a thin layer of lethal poison brewed by Dralithil himself.
Various gourds that contain diffirent species of deadly insects.
A simple hickory walking stick. Although mostly used for a added disguise, it can be used as a weapon if the need arose.

Armor/Clothing: A standard suit of Shroud armor is hidden under layers of disguise. Dirty brown, hooded robes that stink of sweat, urine, and alcohol help add to the aura that Dralithil wishs to exude. A dirty black cotton shirt is worn under the robes, along with brown pants and boots covered in mud and grime. Dirty white cotton bandages are kept wrapped around his hands along with a single strip around his eyes that allow him to see, but help add to the begger disguise.

Misc. Items: A tin cup, a few gold coins, several vials of health potions and poisons, a black soul gem, and a map.

...............................

Name: Unknown (called the Nameless man)

Alias: Erin Nofather

Race: Imperial

Gender: Male

Class: Wizard

Age: Appears to be mid thirties or early forties

Birthsign: The Mage

Physical description: At six feet, with a broad shouldered body, a matted beard and long black hair that reaches down to his shoulders in a tangled mess, the Nameless man appears to be a bandit or a warrior of some sort. His eyes are narrow and his face carries light scars that can barely barely be seen under his beard.

Short Bio: The Nameless man appeared in Cyrodiil two years ago, being one of the rare few to approach the Dark Brotherhood themselves. Quickly earning himself an infamous reputation as a talented murderer. However his lack of subtlety does not make him the ideal choice for a quiet and sensitive assassination, much of the time choosing to murder outright in the open, and using his talent as a powerful wizard to bombard his targets and enemies with massive spells, causing maximum damage.

The Nameless man chooses not to discuss his past or his true name, and is rumored to have worked with other sects of the Brotherhood, including the Mournhold chapter which is believed to have been purified years before. He is not particularly selective of targets, but it is often sensed that he is looking for something specific when he chooses an account. He is a master of destruction, and completely lacking in tact with magical abilities, chooses to overwhelm his opponents with his dark magic. Although he chooses not to use much other magic, the Imp that is bound to him shows that he has much more then a modest amount of skill in Conjuration, along with the simple habit of making a dagger appear in his hand as he pleases.

Along with his brutal and intimidating nature, he is also well known for a horribly strong stench and foul odor.

He is an Executioner within the Brotherhood.

Weapons: http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e109/havufi/HonekazariNoTachi.jpg a cruel and intelligent blade enchanted to paralyze for five seconds, along with a twenty second Silence spell. The blade is made from the same steel as Orcish weaponry, the sheath and handle are of Dragonbone. Centuries old and forged in far off lands, the blade is able to communicate through empathy with its wielder.

Two http://www.themysticcorner.com/images/Gothic_Dagger.jpg one enchanted with Drain health, the other with poison and drain fatigue (each are five points for five seconds) Each dagger is strapped into one of his boots.

One http://www.havingalarp.com/Dagger.gifsheathed to the inside of his long coat. When in times of anger or nervous excitement, he has the habit of making the blade appear in the hand, possibly a sign of an affinity in conjuration, or being taught the trick by a conjurer years passed.

Armor/Clothing: No armor. A Black Long coat, brown suspenders, cotton shirt, brown wool trousers, and black leather boots fitted with straps for his weaponry. A Worn black Wizard hat.

Misc. Items: http://www.rusticgirls.com/images/wooden_tobacco_pipe.jpg along with pipe tobacco. Whetstone located within custom pocket of long coat. Bottle of Mazte, tainted with poison. A magician's wand fitted with a switch which when flicked, fires a needle enchanted to blind, and dipped in poison. Some Jerky.

Anything else: A permanently bound Imp, Bomanz. At will, the nameless man calls upon the Imp from its home plane, and usually forces the creature to help track certain targets, and also for communicating in any language his master is unfamiliar with.

OOC: Reposting my new char even though I edited him into my character sheet post on the front page. Just in case someone missed it:



Newlands Lodge

Shqip recieved some strange looks as he entered the lodge, but the few people inside that did glance at him quickly turned their gaze away. Both of his shoulders had a leather shield strapped over them his spear was held in his right hand just above the ground, and his short sword was strapped to the lower part of his back. The steed he was given to ride, had been ridden to death through the night to make sure he would get to Cheydinhal as soon as possible. This was Shqip's chance to kill Serosi, and returning to Cheydinhal was a rather poetic place to do it...if Serosi hadn't already left. He had not spent much time in the Dark Brotherhood in Cheydinhal before his betrayel, but it was possible someone may recognize him. His appearence looked more like border guard or a light infantry mercenary than an assassin.

The Argonian's reptilian eyes caught the sight of Drevas, a fellow Morag Tong he had met a few times but not exchanged much of a word. He made his way casually toward the back of the room sitting on a chair with his back to the wall, one table over from Drevas. Unless someone stared constantly at the two, they would not know that they knew each other. Instead Shqip kept his eyes forward, his inexpressive appearence hiding the words he shared.

"Are we the first here?" The question was posed, not so much that he cared but to open up a conversation. The faster he could fight Serosi, the faster he could kill him. Perhaps Drevas was also interested in this. Technically they had to try to bring him back alive, an escort mission, how pathetic. There may be those in the Morag Tong who would attempt to keep Serosi whole. Those too would meet their end.

"Are we the first here?"

The words broke Drevas from him reverie, and, although spoken with subtlety, nearly caused him to react physically. He had been caught with his guard down, something Drevas prided himself on avoiding. Cursing his error inwardly, he took a swig of the bitter alcohol in his mug before looking over the Argonian newcomer with his one good eye. The fellow was well-armed, and looked like he spent more time on the road than in the cities. There was something vaguely familiar about him, and by his tone of voice he obviously recognized Drevas as Morag Tong. He never had a very close relationship with any of his fellow Morag Tong members, but he had met or worked with most of them. Drevas searched his memory for a few moments, trying to pull up a name to put with the face. Finally giving up, he swallowed another mouthful of liquor and grunted crudely.

"Yes. I've been waiting. Did you see any of our 'Brothers' on your way in?"

The emphasis that Drevas put on "Brothers" would obviously tip off any Morag Tong member as to what he truly meant... the Dark Brotherhood. Drevas wasn't sure exactly how many of Morag Tong agents had been assigned to track down Serosi, but there was one thing he was sure of: They would be easily outnumbered by the Dark Brotherhood. These were foreign lands for the Tong. They were operating in enemy territory. The Dark Brotherhood had all the advantages. Drevas and any other Morag Tong agents who sought out Serosi would be forced to use every trick in the book to avoid not only the Dark Brotherhood, but the other forces in Cyrodiil that would not take kindly to a foreign guild running amok within their borders.

There was no room for errors in this type of mission. Every action would have to be calculated and executed to perfection. A single slip-up could mean his life... or worse.

"No but I imagine they are scurrying about like insects after their rock has been lifted up from under them." Shqip's voice was serpentine yet course and scratchy. He spoke with a bit of pleasure in his voice relishing the thought of the destroyed sanctuary. He did not have anything personal against the Dark Brotherhood, but it had crossed his mind a couple of times to destroy it himself simply for the sight. Curiosity arose a bit as Shqip wondered just how Serosi had done it all.

"I know Oglind was closer to Cheydinhal than me when the orders arrived so he must be around here as well." One never knew with Oglind. He rarely kept his own face when looking for a target. It was quite a useful trick, one he had seen in person...on that very same day he met Serosi. Shqip ran his hand down the scar on his face, his jaw clenched with internal fury at the thought of Serosi and almost in a way to relieve the frustration he posed another question. "What do you know of Serosi?"

What he and Oglind had seen that day was unexpected. Shqip didn't think it possible to be capable on those dimensions. It was as if swimming into swirling water. No matter how hard you hit into it it simply drags you under leaving you overwhelmed and disoriented, a rising avalanche. His greyish green hands rested on the table as the spear leaned against the wall. That spear had slain many, the wood native from Argonia and the blade somewhat wide with a sharp point. It was good for slashing and stabbing leaving wide wounds into the victim. He enjoyed feeling the echoing vibrations of the blade with his tongue as it cut the air.

OOC: Sorry im late posting up, my move back to uni after the christmas holidays was a little hectic. Really glad to see some more people in this RP, hope fully the morag tong will be a little more than Oglind and his one man band now






Almerion didn't say anything as Rufio sat down, he just raised his pipe to his lips nodding solemly at the place where the guardsman died. He wasn't drinking Alcohol, he'd taken a bottle of Valtieries blood from the Sanctuary, fortunately it was hidden in a safe place and was not damaged by Serosi's abrupt arrival to the Sanctuary. He never drank alcohol if he had to perform, he found that it slowed his reaction time some what, Something he couldn't afford if he was to be dealing with Serosi and his Tong rats.
He gazed over at the Dunmeress. He felt as if she was trying to captivate him or enthrall him, he didn't doubt his suspicions that she was a master temptress, but she had never dealt with a master killer before.

Or had she?

He raised his glass and bowed his head to her a little, nothing of his usual grandeur but easily recognizable as a sign of greeting.

" The authorities will be here soon,....i'm sure"

Almerion contemplated his words for a second or two, wondering how he would handle the situation if a guard did arrive right then, manipulation probably, Violence would risk the lives of more of his brotherhood kin, something he was not fool enough to contemplate happening.

"Every one be Silent!" A shout came from the entrance to Almerions right, almost as if they where perfectly on cue to be judged worthy of life by the vampire. He could feel the pommel jewel vibrating against his skin and its ebony casing, he could feel its longing for destruction and blood. He would feed it soon.

"By order of the guard captain, anybody with information on the recent death of the owner of this establishment should be reported to the nearest guard immediately and without hesitation." He read from a leaf of parchment, held open at arms length. Then left as quickly as he came.

"Well, the five rules we live by still stand, you live for another day bold one." Almerion muttered to Rufio through his thick cloud of pipe smoke.





Parthia didn't reply, she sat at the table like a confused child being told to many scary facts. He relented and gave in, pulling his sleeve down over his sleeve to his the scar she was looking at, the colour draining from her face at either the sight or some otherwise unspoken though she had about it.

"Parthia. Why are you here?" He asked, walking around the large table to sit next to her, he waited a few agonisingly silent seconds for her answer, when it didn't come he lifted her head with one finger to look her in the eye. "Why are you in the brotherhood Parthia?"

OOC: Sorry for not posting, i was stumped on what to write.


OC:

As he saw the guard leave Armen put back the needle he had in between his fingers. He idly thought what would happen if the guards were after him or his brothers, 'A situation best avoided'. He took another sip of soup and looked around him again. 'My brethren are still gathering, i might have enough time to go there'. With that thought he took the bowl and gulped down the contents, there was till bits of venison inside the bowl but these were gone in a flash. Armen got up and left the inn, when outside he jogged to his destination. 'It's been a week since ive last visited' . His feet carried him towards the gate and the guards stopped to inspect him.

"Halt, where are you going?" The guard asked.

Armen put on a fake smile "I only want to check my horse, he gets antsy when left alone for too long"

The guard hesitated for a moment but let him pass through. Once outside he headed left into the forest, making sure the guards did not see he was going away from the stables.

The name Oglind rang some bells in Drevas' mind, but for some reason he conjured up several different faces to go with that name. Pushing those thoughts aside, he finished off the liquor in his mug and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He occasionally had trouble with drinking or eating soup, as it was impossible to completely close his mouth, the left side of his bottom lip hanging down at a bizarre angle. Although table manners were not on Drevas' list of positive attributes, it had merely become habit for him. It was hard to take a man seriously with drool hanging from his mouth, no matter how physically intimidating he might be.

"He destroyed the entire Sanctuary... all by himself. It takes a special kind of person with a special set of skills to be able to pull that off. He is obviously a stronger person than even we expected."

For the first time in hours, Drevas shifted in his seat. He readjusted the heavy ebony mace that hung in the unique scabbard at his side, allowing it's significant weight to be support by the crossbeam bisecting two legs of the chair. The Dunmer tilted his head from side to side, a perverse snapping sound accompanying each movement. Settling back into his chair, his hand went to the empty mug and his fingers wrapped around it once more, and he assumed his former, unmoving position.

"As far as his motives... I haven't got a clue as to what he was thinking. What he did certainly didn't agree with the Bosses. Otherwise, we wouldn't be out here, would we?"

Another day, another septim. Dralithil thought as he strolled down the cobble stone streets of Cheydinhal with the suns warm morning rays beating down upon his back. The rhythmic sound of " tap tap " could be heard as his walking stick moved back and forth ahead of him as he played the part of a blind begger to perfection. A tin cup held in his left hand jingled slighty as a few septims bounced around, nothing more then another layer of his disguise. He looked dirty, and smelt wretched. Perfect!

He had arrived just this morning at the request from some of the other branchs of Cyrodill to hunt down the terror that went by the name Serosi. As word was sent out to the other provinces, Dralithil had now doubt that some of the most deadly and ruthless killers would soon flock here to take up the hunt. He just had to beat them to their prey and hope his skills and cunning could match that of the Dunmer. At the moment, he was doing a little scouting, learning the local rumors, the layout of the city, and other little details that could prove usefull later.

Having grown tired of walking, he decided it best to let some of his " pets " do the work for him. Sitting down at the mouth of an ally with his back up against the wall, Dralithil went to work gathering his spys. Digging into the depths of his stained robes, he pulled out a small brown gourd with a corked top. Removing the cork with a flick of his thumb, he brought the gourd up to his lips and began to whisper softly. " Its time to work my friends. " Moments later, seven little wasps with crimson and black stripes came crawling out. Using his beast tounge ability, he began to speak to them in what sounded like buzzing in various tones to most people. Moments later, they took flight, spreading out to cover the city. His little scouts would report back later with any news he might find interesting.

For now, he would wait for the Nameless Man, a man he had worked with a few years back in the Black Marsh. His brutal and ruthless nature along with his mastery of destructive magic had made him somewhat of a legend in some of the sanctuarys, and Dralithil looked foward to working with him again. Returning the gourd to his belt, he retrieved yet another item, a bottle of brandy. After taking a small sip, he splashed a few drops into his robes and his neck to smell the part. Dralithil was always working, and he loved it.

Cheydinhal Bridge Inn

The dunmeress stood up walking toward one of the servants who seemed rather disoriented with the recent death. She seemed to say something to the servant before her eyes turned to Almerion again smiling and then walking up the stairs. Moments later the servant made his way toward Almerion and spoke. "The Dark Elf lady informed me that you would pay for her drink. Generous of you sir." He bowed and before he could lift his head the guards entered the Inn taking him a bit by surprise.

Vincent's House



Parthia couldn't help but recoil at the touch. She was unsure and felt rather exposed. Finally a reply came. "Because I need money, and even though I may not look like it, i'm good at what I do." She stood up toward the opposite side of the chair away from Sebastian and made her way toward the exit of the kitchen. "I'm going to get dressed and we'll leave. If I ever see you here again...i'll kill you."

Parthia walked away to the next room, as she did her hands were folded behind against her rear end. Even though Vincent's shirt came down to her thighs she felt rather exposed. She left the kitchen turning to the right up the stairs quickly taking each step. Her head turned around a few moments to make sure Sebastian wasn't staring upward at her. She didn't think he was that sort of person but one never knew. Her hands pressed against the bedroom door and was closed and locked behind her. She took a few steps toward the bed which was still unmade. (I'd make it but I probably shouldn't waste time.)

Parthia unbuttoned the shirt slipping it off and folding it up placing it on the corner of the bed. As she did so she saw from the corner of her eye on the desk some parchment and feather dipped in ink. Walking over to the desk feeling only the anklet on her right ankle and the air on her skin she pulled the father out writing only 'I'm fine' on the parchment before turning back across the room to the chair were here things had been cleaned and left for her. She lifted up the short robe slipping one arm and then another into it. The soft fabric reached down to her knees and the sash held the robe closed. She sat down on the chair as she put each sandal on, the straps intertwining around her ankles. Next the elven shortsword was dipped inbetween her lower back and sash, the quiver on her right hip and the bow, unstrung, on her back.

Moments later she was at the front door, her eyes made no contact with Sebastian's. In a way she felt guilty for his arm. Did he blame her?





"I'm glad we're here. I've met Serosi and the Morag Tong has no need for aristocratic pretty boys. He needs put in his place. I pray to Mephala or whatever god will make it so, that he resists." Shqip wasn't the only one amongst the Morag Tong that shared such sentiments. It was a mixture of jealousy and invented vengeance that motivated Shqip and his kind. If Serosi was still in the city he would be found eventually. But it was possible he had already tried to return to Morrowind. Agents had been placed along passes of the Velothi mountains. Shqip didn't think he'd return. He would go further west. He had a gut feeling over these sort of things.


OOC:

[censored] posts, i keep getting distracted with other stuff and get writer's block.

IC:

Almerion raised one white eyebrow to the tavern servant, but dropped a few coins in his hand non-the-less. He watched as the Dunmeress eyes lingered on him for a moment before disappearing behind a sheet of hair as she turned and made her way upstairs. He waited a few moments, one guard was annoyingly lingering a little to close by, Almerion found his presence an irksome reminder that he was to be on his best behaviour for the time being.

"Watch, I need you to make sure I'm not followed upstairs, I will be back shortly." Almerion whispered to Rufio, his goblet concealing his barely moving lips. "If I'm taking to long, investigate."

Without another word he stood, gently resting the goblet on the table before striding across the stone floor to the stairs, he glanced around, nobody had even registered a thing, many where to deep in thought or conversation. If anybody did notice anything, they would probably think he was merely on his way to meet the dunmeress, who they would probably presume to be a prosttute due to her kins promiscuous nature.

The stairs, well built and sturdy, did not betray a sound as Almerion climbed them, he was some what impressed at the cleanliness of the inn, no dust could be seen in a single corner. He reminded himself to compliment the barkeep, or he would if he wasn't dead.

The upstairs was slightly smaller. The hall way a little cramped but not uncomfortably so, Almerion followed his nose, quite litterally, seeking the bittersweet smell of the dunmers's blood. He didn't struggle to find her, most doors stood ajar, revealing empty rooms. Her door stood wide open to, but unlike the other rooms, it was revealing something within. The dunmeress.

"You know, it's very presumptuous of you to assume that I would happily pay for you're drink my fair lady." Almerion spoke loudly to the back of her head, her hair glistened gently in the sunlight. "But it is equally presumptuous of me to assume that for reasons unknown, you also wish for my company, what is it that you know which makes you feel the need to steal an old mans money?"

It hit him just then, Almerion stood in the door way, blocking any possible escape, the bittersweet scent pulling memories of the night before, he recognised that scent from the castle. His cloak dropped to the floor as he inhaled, expanding his chest and shoulders. As he exhaled the air around dropped in temperature, so much so that a mirror beside him cracked as frost obscured its face.

"I think, it is time for you to speak dunmer."

Sebastian

Sebastian watched as Parthia left the room, trying to show some level of modesty. It was ironic perhaps that she was covering her self up here, in the one place she was most exposed, the house of her lover and his wife.

He didn't betray a flicker of desire as he watcher her. He didn't feel that way towards her, he didn't know her well enough. He didn't trust her and most of all. He saw himself in her, the same disgust and fear he saw in her face as Almerion tortured the Redguard, the same trepidation and anxiety as she stood outside a bedroom door, unwilling to enter for fear of attack. These where not qualities which where prized among assassins and their ilk, But Sebastian had learnt to hide them, ever since he realised there was no place in this world for him, save for the company of murderous hit men and women.

He leaned against the door frame, his head lulling back and staring at the ceiling. A number of colovian materials and cured meats hung from the cross beams, it seemed in this province a house wasn't complete without d?cor which could decay.

Foot steps met his ears as Parthia made her way down the steps toward him, he looked at her with saddened eyes, he felt truly sorry for her and her position. The feeling was quickly quelled however, and replaced with fierce jealousy as he realised that not only did she have a life outside the brotherhood, she had also found love and compassion with another person. Something Sebastian could not do. Not any more.

"My dear. I do not think you would kill me." He said in answer to her parting words, a gentle grin upon his weathered yet handsome features. "You can kill a stranger, yes you can, and you can do it well. But a familiar person? Could you kill me? I don't think so, I don't even believe you are the same as our brethren. I do not believe you enjoy it as they do."

He left through the front door before she could answer, walking slowly so that she could catch up, but fast enough to look as if he had a destination rather than a man simply lolling about the streets with no aim or purpose.

Armen stood in a small meadow, a genuine, real smile on his face. He walked forward and sat in front of a tombstone. The thing did not show any signs of age, though there were some stains on it. Armen reached out his hand and removed some of the dirt on the stone. "Hello, Mother" He said, the coldness of his voice gone, replaced with warmth. "It's been a week since ive visited", Armen's hand went over the name engraved on the stone. It was a very familiar feeling, one that always made him happy and sad at the same time.

"Ive been doing good,though, the death of a whole sanctuary worries me" He knew he would get no answer, but that didn't matter. Every time he came here he could feel his mothers cold arms that gave him warmth when he got an embrace. He could hear her whispers of praise in his ear, it gave him strength. "I will avenge their deaths Mother, their killer will face punishment by the hand of Sithis" Armen said with his voice full of conviction. "I promise this, and you know i will try my best not to disappoint you". With that said, he muttered a prayer to sithis and his mother and began his way back into the city.

Ticedo sighed and wandered over to the bar that had until very recently belonged to the inn keeper, he grabbed a small bottle of flin casually and tucked it into his sleeve before wandering back to the table casually. He banged the bottle onto the table in and overly extravagent way. He had already polsihed off an entirebottle on his own, however on that particular day did not feel the need to restrain himself, anyone who knew what had happened on that day so many years ago would have felt some scrap of mercy fo him. However for everyone at the table he was simpily a cold, blood thirsty, mildly impaired cripple. An assasin.

Ticedo casually glanced at his glass which he relized was empty and poured himself another from the bottle. He the strong alchohol could drown nearly any sorrow and burn any throat however the combination of the last days stresses and his inner sadness was too much for the powerful drink and he still felt on edge.

Newlands Lodge

"I'm glad we're here. I've met Serosi and the Morag Tong has no need for aristocratic pretty boys. He needs put in his place. I pray to Mephala or whatever god will make it so, that he resists."

The Argonian's words were spoken with genuine vitriol, and Drevas found himself wondering who exactly this Serosi really was. He had never seen a Morag Tong agent inspire such hatred in his own kind. Drevas was by no means popular amongst his fellow Tong members. He had encountered more than his fair share of resistance against his methods and general attitude. But no one (at least not outwardly) expressed an explicit desire to do him harm. This Argonian though clearly had some kind of vendetta against Serosi. Drevas could only speculate as to what had occurred between the two, but in the end, it didn't really matter. One way or the other, he would complete the mission. Everything else, the in-fighting, the Dark Brotherhood, the feuds... it was all inconsequential. Either this Argonian would help him, or he would die. He didn't care either way. If his own personal feelings got in the way of Drevas' assignment, the Dunmer had no qualms about eliminating any obstacle. He was confident that the Argonian felt the same.

This thought brought him back to the task at hand: finding Serosi. Drevas was by nature an impatient man, usually preferring to take the quickest and usually bloodiest path to achieve his goals. He had been waiting for a long time just to hear word one from another Tong agent, and now that he had, he was beginning to feel the need to move, to start doing... something. Anything.

"So, friend, are we expecting any more company? Exactly how many of us have the Bosses sent out on this little scavenger hunt?"

Drevas wasn't sure the Argonian would know, but he was hoping he would know more than the bare essentials Drevas had been given as a briefing.

Cheydinhall

At a small grass island separating two districts of Cheydinhall was a child dressed in ragged burlap, and a large bearded man dressed in tattered clothing.

Both simply stared at the city, over and over again their eyes would trace the area.

The man smoked a short stubby Cherry wood pipe, the smoke casted a much more pleasing aroma then the man himself did, he seemed to carry a horrible stench, repulsing most of those near him.

His dark eyes finally closed before he grumbled in a cruel voice, "....Do it...."

The child nodded and smiled, revealing a sharp row of teeth. Waving its hands over its face, an ethreal smoke began to pervade the area. It was the traces of magicka left by all those who wielded the power in the last few days. Some traces were feint, others more defined.

In a bird like voice, the child spoke, "There are echoes of death, and powerful wizardry lingering recently....the castle bears scars of battle....and magicka is coursing through the city....bugs...."

The Nameless Man put out his pipe and spit to the ground, "Dralithil..."

With his hand on the sword sheathed in bone, the bane of many whom he had slain, he turned.

"Lets find the Bosmer."

Dralithil was very unique amongst the assassins he had worked with, the Bosmer was one of the few the Nameless Man was unsure if he could kill, and the only one to survive any of the Black Assassinations, a complete purification of every single Shadowscale within Soulrest. Both of them had taken the opportunity of the Cheydinhal's sanctuary misfortune to collect on a hefty sum that was found within many markets. Freelance markets wanted Serosi dead, so did a few Grey Writs of the Morag Tong, and best yet the Dark Brotherhood would definitely have something of value for the pair who could eliminate one who killed so many of their own.

"Track the bugs..."

The Imp in Child's form grimaced at being told what to do without ever being praised for its efforts, but its master was a cruel one, and another order was much better then the usual treatment.

"Right on chief."

Oglind in his copied form of a Dunmeress turned to face Almerion. In the feminine voice he had stolen he spoke, paying attention of the distance between the two. "I just wanted to give a friendly tip to our astranged brothers. I'm sure right about now you're all sitting on your asses wondering where oh where could Serosi have gone." Oglind couldn't help but grin. Without him Almerion wouldn't stand much of a chance to figure out where Serosi went. The Dark Brotherhood had a much larger number in Cyrodiil so it would be better to use them to slow Serosi down and if a few of the schismatics died, all the better.

Oglind took a step back to his back at the window sitting in a chair leaning against the wall. To his left was a small table with nothing but a bell on it, to the right a bed. As he sat the light of the sun shined through the window more directly toward Almerion. "That must burn..." Oglind taunted the vampire. Hopefully he would be smarter than angry and give him the time that he needed.



Sebastian was right. She probably couldn't kill him for as much as showing up at Vincent's house. Parthia stopped for a moment considering his words until he had made some distance between the two prompting her to walk faster to catch up. She stood about two steps behind him following through the crowd. She looked down as she walked, feeling comforted by silver around her ankle reminding her of Vincent. It seemed to keep her at peace as they made their way through the streets eventually arriving at the Inn.

As she entered inside, off to the side at the back of the room she recognized a few of her fellow brothers, others she did not. After sitting down against the wall a bit further from the others she avoided eye contect and pretended to be occupied checking her nails. The emerald eyes would sometimes bounce up taking a quick glance noticing that Almerion was no where to be seen. Had Serosi injured him? That same feeling of guilt and fear washed over her until she calmed herself down realizing she had no way of knowing one way or another.





West of Cheydinhal


To the left of the road heading west was a stream Serosi followed off the path. It led to a small lake that had its source of water in an array of cascades. Serosi had tied his horse a log, undressed and continued into the water with the intent to rid himself of the scent of smoke. Unbound his hair reached passed his collar bones in a slightl wave of a pattern. The water gave it a glistening effect that all dark hair usually attained. The water from the morning while the air slowly warmed up with the passing moment.

As Serosi sat on one of the smooth water stones that once had been a rigid boulder, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. At the other end of the small lake amongst the leaves a woman stepped out wearing what seemed to be a mage's robe. Curly dark locks flanked the side of her youthful face as full eyes seemed to smile with her lips. She took slow steps closer and closer toward the water looking down at it and dipping one of her shoeless feet in to test the temperature.

"Hello over there! Is it good for a bath?" Her voice carried well, it was soft but strong like a singer's would be. Serosi offered no verbal reply but lifted up his hand briefly as if offering her the lake. She smiled back bowing and then turned her back at him slipping her robe off letting it slide down to the ground. She lifted her right arm to cover her briasts and her left hand covering her groin as she turned around sinking into the water.

"I was just passing by and I saw you looking so comfortable!" She had to keep her voice a bit raised, not so much because of the distance which was only twenty meters or so, but because of the cascades spashing in the background. The light passing through the falling water would shine a random assortment of lights bouncing off of her smooth fare skin as she made her way closer to Serosi. She could simply walk, the water only being waist deep. She kept her arms up to cover herself modestly although she didn't seem shy in the least bit.

"I was picking herbs for to make some potions. And it is such a nice day today after last night's storm I thought i'd come enjoy the water as well. You don't mind do you?" She turned her back at Serosi in order to hide herself better. She leaned to the side dipping her hair in the water which defeated the purpose of turning around somewhat.

"The lake isn't mine." Serosi replied in an almost dismissive tone. The woman turned around laughing lightly this time not bothering to lift her arms up.

"I see, you play hard to get, the strong silent type. But you seem more like a poet with many things to say." She came closer to where he was sitting standing just before him. "My grandmother used to tell me stories of how when she was younger she would run off in the forest finding a wide elf she had fallen in love with. Quite romantic isn't it? Are you one of those elves?"

"I'm not." His reply was again dismissive but the woman didn't seem to waver. She turned around and sat at the edge of the same stone Serosi was sitting on, her hips being flanked by either knee.

"Maybe you just aren't a wordy romantic elf. Maybe you're more romantic in touch?" Her hands quickly grasped his wrists pressing his palms against her lower stomach. The softness of his hands surprised her not having felt the touch of a noble before. He just had to be rich, it didn't seem like he had ever worked in his life. "May I have a massage serjo soft touch?" Serosi seemed more focused on his surroundings than her.

"No." His replied surprised her even further.

"Then maybe I can do something for you?" She turned around straddling his right thigh smiling toward him as her hand slid up the inside of his thigh. She gasped in surprise as she felt something cold and metallic.

"You can tell your friend to not touch my things." Serosi stood up, the woman sliding off, he turned around gripping the adamantium sica that had been laying across his lap, and with the rotation of his body whipped it at another woman who was near his horse. The thief lifted her wooden shield only to have it shatter as the sica struck it and fell to the ground. It did it's job in protecting her and she quickly ran away. As Serosi turned around the other woman had swam to the other end, grabbing her robe and ran through the bushes which she emerged from. A few moments later he could hear the sound of two horses making off.

The woman in the water seemed to be an Imperial while the other was taller and built like a nord with blonde hair and sharper features. They seemed to be thieves and nothing more but one never knew.


Later . . .

Serosi felt lighter now that he was able to have his bath. Atop his steed that walked on the center of the road, he sat, a shining example of a Dres noble ready for battle, well almost he lacked the armor however light it was. To each of his flanks from the forest suddenly appeared a horse, to his right the imperial from the lake, and to his left the nordess who attempted to steal his things. Their horses were just slightly ahead of his own and each turned to face him offering a smile.

"We apologize for our lowly trick. We'd like to make amends." The imperial woman looked apologetic, but it drew no remorse from Serosi who already was hardly trusting of anyone.

"You're being a bother." Serosi kept his horse at the same pace ignoring them.

"Which is why we'd like to apologize. We usually steal from corrupt merchants but we feel that you aren't black hearted." The nordess finally spoke, a cooler more authoratative voice.

"Uninteresting." Serosi didn't lose his patience but any curiosity he had toward them had vanished earlier.

"It's obvious you are much stronger than us. We're just frail women, and we need someone like you to escort us." The imperial's eyes were pleading easily convincing someone of lesser resolve.

"I'm not going to where you are going." Serosi's voice was spoken plainly but even so he could not detract from the natural smoothness.

"We'll go wherever you're going then!" Both of them spoke in unison with smiling faces.

"You are not." The Dunmer's reply was every bit as cold as their previous words were gleeful. He urged his horse on causing it to run past the two. Before Serosi could get much distance however five other horses came out of the forest cutting Serosi off. Immediately Serosi began calculating. The two behind him the Imperial seemed more of a thief with arcane abilities. The Nordess a skirmisher. Infront of him from from left to right was an Altmer dressed in a rode robe sensing the strongest arcane presence from her. Next a crossbow carrying Imperial guarded by mail. In the center a Nord with a lance and off to his left two other imperials one with a mace and the other a sword, all in iron.

"Now serjo soft touch, we wanted to do this nicely, we all would have gotten something out of it, but you were rather mean to my friend and I." The imperial woman taunted as the nordess's horse neared. "Hand over your belongings, including that nice blade of yours. The Nordess added reaching out toward him.

In a silverish flash her arm at the wrist was cut off. For a moment she stood there completely silent, everyone both shocked and amazed. Then a shrieking scream escaped from the nordess as she began realizing the pain. A spark of lighting streaked down the road at Serosi who used his ability in mysticism to absorb the spell, convert it to fire and shoot it behind himself to scare both of the horses throwing both the nordess and imperial women off.

"Leave him." The lance weilding nord lifted up his hand toward his elven mage. He then began to gallop toward Serosi who seemed to be charging right toward him holding only his sica. Moments seemed like minutes as each rider came closer and closer. The nord was leaning forward into the heavy lance while Serosi seemed calm, almost bored at the whole event. He did not even bother to lift his blade, only staring rather ominously at the Nord who began feeling strange. Every sound seemed to have an echo and pretty soon so did every color and touch. He began feeling unbalanced on his horse leaning to the side, more, more, more...CRASH.

A loud clank of armor was heard as the Nord fell off of his horse taking the steed with him. Serosi continued to ride past him toward the other four.



"I don't know how many they send nor do I care. But when Oglind returns, then we'll begin the hunt. He's going to help the Dark Brotherhood by telling them what direction he's going in. The plan according to him is that we use them to fish him out, and after he goes through a half dozen or so of them, then we step in. I'm not too inclined to do much convincing if you know what I mean..." The Argonian began a dry uncomfortable sounding laughter. Shqip relished the thought of killing Serosi after having his pride wounded. He was an arrogant being that couldn't stand to be denied of what he considered rightfully his.

OC: We'll pick up a bit faster once we get one more person for the MT side (though more are welcome for any side) and then we'll get this going a bit more. Sorry for the shortness.

Dear Gods... This place svcks. Felton sighed, leaning back on his horse. Boredom was invading every bit of his essence, creating a feeling of unwillingness to do anything - he just wished to fall off his horse and fall asleep. Such a pity it'd ruin my clothes. Not to mention, I'd feel like an idiot. One of his eyebrows rose, and the Breton smirked at the idea of a respectable man like himself falling off of his horse only to ward off boredom. Oh, the thoughts a bored mind can conjure... He rolled his eyes, before letting his imagination loose. He imagined his small, though cozzy and quite exquisite house in Balmora, filled with notebooks, writs and books; his soft chair, which would so often act in the stead of a bed for him... And most importantly, the tiny basemant, filled from top to bottom with wine bottles from all over Tamriel. Whether he liked it or not, Felton grew accustomed to the comfortable lifestyle he allowed himself and secretly longed for his entire life, and now he could barely last without them.

Get a grip, Felton... Whether you like it or not, one of the higher-ups had you thrown on this horse and told to take the thrid turn left to Cyrodiil and help a bunch of people with murderous intentions and probably half the manners of my own to find tis-o-tee Dunmer named Serosi and drag him back to Morrowind. With a loud, prolonged groan he straightened himself in his saddle, regaining his posture which carried much similarity to that of a Bretic noble in court. Although he initially hailed from a middle-class family, at some point of his life he noticed that he had began carrying himself in a different manner than other people he encountered. He actually liked it - it reminded him of home somewhat, even though he hadn't seen any nobles during the several years he could recall of his life in Anticlere.

As Felton struggled to maintain his posture, Cheydinhal became visible in the distance. FINALLY. A few more hills, and I'll be done. My ass feels wooden from all this riding... He sighed in relief, spurring his horse onwards. The sooner he got to Cheydinhal, the better.

***

Congratulations, Felton. The Breton held back a smile, making his way past the people in the streets. He could feel several pairs of eyes watching his back, and from the silent grumbling of the guards, it seemed his clothes were doing the work in his stead - from what he heard, it seemed the guards had taken him for a wandering mercenary, and indeed, Felton seemed similar to one, if he wouldn't be held for a smuggler or some other sort of shady character. Tipping his hat forward to cover his face, the Breton smiled - at least no one would expect him to be a Morag Tong assassin of all things. This confident smile still on his face, he brushed past several other Dunmeri, and quickly snuck inside the Newlands Lodge, quickly closing the doors behind him.

"Ah, the little guard who wasn't." Almerion spoke softly, a rare smile gracing his once handsome features. "No I'm glad to say, it doesn't, you see I've fed recently, But I admit, it does give a faint tingeling sensation when exposed for to long. But now that I think of it, I don't quite think I've had my fill. Would you believe it?"

He barely gave notice before covering the space between them, moving with unexpected speed and agility, inches from a beautiful dunmeri face, it's haughty features and concave lines creating something fierce yet delicate. The pommel jewel in his arm began to pulse, casting half of Almerions face in a green glow. His muscles quivered with antisicpation, the Ebony around his arm seemed to move as his skin would, tightening around his arm.

"Which pour souls face do you hide behind today? Why don't you show me you're true face? Perhaps then, I'll let you tail me and my brethren in our search instead of killing all of you and you're brothers. Hm?"



Sebastian walked in after Parthia, feeling some what lost in his own thoughts. He was starting to let his feelings get the better of him, and he wasn't surprised. After years of pushing them deep inside, they where finally catching up.

"Ticedo slow down on the alcohol, we may have to perform soon, I'd rather not be fighting along side a drunk." He said, placing his foot on the back of his chair and pushing him upright as he leaned back dangerously close to tipping onto Sebastians lap.


"I'm sorry about intruding on you're.. Erm, home? It wasn't my place, but it was an emergency and I was worried about you're self and Almerion, I still havent seen him today. I fear the worse." Sebastian muttered to Parthia, feeling that an apology may lessen the wall of tension he was feeling beside him.

He counted the members around him, there was only one he didn't recognise, the rest he had at least spoken with or encountered in his journey through the ranks of the brotherhood, another surprise met his eyes when he notice Rufio in the corner next to the door, he had not seen him since his days in the cheydinhal sanctuary. He couldn't help but wonder why he was not sat with his brothers.

"Oi! Over here!" Sebastian shouted across the tavern, throwing a wooden spoon at Rufio to get his attention. "Join us."







West of Cheydinhal

The sun glistened playfully on Tora's glossy grey and black striped fur, bouncing off the pale red liquid in his cup. He was knelt upon the canvas tarp from his tent, which was folded neatly underneath him. Both hands clutching his tea cup.

The scene was that of serenity, he was sat amongst nature, wistfully relaxing after a long day of travel, He could see the white gold tower shining brightly in the sunlight, the lake reflecting a perfect image of the city in its glassy surface. Such a sight was beautiful to behold from his vantage. Far below him, in a lake nestled neatly beneath the hill he was sat upon, he could see a weary traveller removing his belongings and lowering himself into the water. Tora watched him with curiosity, he had never seen a man with a skin of such hue, it was a strange sight to him.

Akuma was pacing around beside the lone tree Tora was sat under, grazing on the grass. Tora lowered his cup to the ground and reached into his bag, pulling out a handfull of assorted herbs and dried fruit. He held it out with his palm flat for the horse, which trotted over instantly, sniffing curiously at the prize it was offered.

Once it was deemed acceptable the horse ate it from his palm, Tora liked the feeling, it was one he was not used to. He had never been the owner of a horse before. He found himself growing attached to the animal, it was his only companion.

"There, you're coat will shine if you eat these regularly, and you will be healthier than a stallion of half you're age." Tora spoke out loud, rubbing the horses nose with his palm.

"You shouldn't speak to you're animal with such a polite tone, show it some fear, let it know who's boss." A voice shot out, Tora looked up to see a tawny Khajiit stood before him, her body slender and toned, her midrift exposed beneath her leather waist coat. He took in the rest of her attire, from her studded ankle high leather boots, to her knee length cloth pants. He hadn't seen many Khajiit since leaving Elwesyr, he was surprised at how different they dressed and acted.

"If you teach respect, you will earn it." He answered simply, picking up his tea again and sipping it slowly. It was growing cold.

"And who taught you that? He sounds like an idiot."

"He was a very wise man and a good friend, I cherish his teachings like I would my children." He replied in the same gentle yet flat tone.

She walked over to the canvas tarp and dropped onto it in front of him, eying his teapot with amusemant.

"What do you mean, Was? Is he dead?" She asked playfully, her white tipped tail flicking up and down at her side, her legs bent under her and her torso leaning toward one side, supported by her outstretched hand on the floor. "You have children?"

"No." He answered simply, she waited for the rest but it didn't come, looking confused and trying to decide which question he answered.

"What are you doing out here? It's a dangerous place to be you know."

"I am resting after travelling, the dangers are nothing of importance to me."

"Has anybody told you cute you are kitty-kat?" She asked playfully, her tail flicking forward and resting upon his.

"What is a Kitty-kat? Should I be offended?" He asked, showing the first sign of curiosity in his confused features. The khajiit in front of him laughed at his word, catching the look of bewilderment on his face she quickly stiffled with a look of curiosity of her own.

"You're not from around here are you?" She asked, he brow furrowed, ears bent back.

"No, I am not. I recently arrived in Elwesyr and travelled that province, learning what I can of its inhabitants, Now, I am here. Doing much the same." He answered. "May I offer you tea?"

"Arrived in Elwesyr? Where did you come from before that?" She asked, taking the empty china cup Tora offered to her with a thankful smile.

"An Island, far away from here, I lived there with my teacher, he taught me everything he knew." He answered, deflecting her curiosity for the moment with a quick lie, he never spoke of his past if he could help it. It was an area he tried to avoid. With one hand on the handle, the other on the lid, he carefully lifted the hot teapot and filled her cup, then refilled his own.

"What is you're name?" He asked curiously, taking a sip of hot tea, hissing slightly as he burnt hit tong, he lowered the cup to the ground to let it cool, she took his hiss as a hint and followed suit.

"Ma'Dharji, Yours?"

"Tora no Rikuganshokan. You are a virgin?" He answered, adding a question of his own, innocently curious.

"What? I- How dare you!" she spluttered, her tail recoiling away from its resting place on his.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to offend." he said with a bow of the head. "It is just that, from what I have learned in Elwesyr, Ma is the Khajiit word for virgin, among other things."

"Well.. I- If you put it that way, yes. I am, but it also means apprentice." She answered in a relenting tone, her tail wishing back over to his.

"You are an apprentice? What is it which you study?"

"I am most certainly not an apprentice, I will have you know I'm a cat burglar for the thieves guild!" she laughed, he voice full of mock pride.

"You are a thief?"

"Yes, I am. Is that a problem?" She asked, her eyes boring into his own challengingly.

"No. I just don't know many thieves."

"Any way, what the hell kind of name is 'Tora no Rikuganshokan'?" She asked, raising her fingers to make quotation marks.
"It is the name I was given at birth, unlike the Khajiit of Elwesyr, I was not named for my forthcomings and abilities, I was named after a great warrior whom died protecting me after my family was murdered, his apprentice, and my master, brought me into his family as a son and taught me in the ways of combat and spirit."

"That's- Hey, look." She said, pointing at the dark skinned man in the lake. "He's got a lady friend! They always where promiscuous those dunmer."

"Dunmer? What is a dunmer?" He asked, curious again.

"Seriously? A dunmer is an ash bourne, a dark elf, from morrowind? You know, they used to be Chimer but then the gods got pissed?"

"Chimer?"

"Oh jeez.. Never mind, look. He's being robbed." She laughed at the sight of the large Nordic woman trying to steal the dunmers belongings before having her shield shattered by him. "Bandits, idiots I tell you."

"Bandits? This isn't right, bandits don't travel in groups of two, they travel in greater numbers to overwhelm their prey." He said solemnly, his eyes raking the area carefully. They came to rest on a group of people a little further away, each one was armed. The dunmer was in peril. "I must leave now, I must help him, he is outnumbered."

"What? No!" She said incredulously, turning from the scene to look at him. "They will kill you!"

"No, they will not." Tora replied, standing up and mounting and pacing to Akuma, the horse raised its head at his approach and turned ready for its rider.

Ma'Dharji eyes the Naginata Tora pulled from the side of his mount with wide eyes, evidently she had never encountered such a weapon.

"You're leaving you're things?" She asked, getting to her feet and walking toward him.

"They are belongings, nothing of importance. I will trust you to deliver them to me when we meet again."

"Who says we're meeting again? Who says I wont just pawn it off for money? I am a thief remember."

"I trust you, you would not have revealed you're self to me if you where planning on stealing from me." He replied, his logic out weighing her words.

"And where is it that you think you will meet me?"

"The white city within the lake." he said, turning away from her and beginning to ride down the hill.

"How did you know I'm headed there?" She called as the distance between them grew.

"You're a thief, you prey on those with items of value and great amounts of money. The cities of this world are full of such people." He called in reply, before squeezing the horses side and setting off at break neck speed, headed toward the nearest path which would lead him toward the bandit group from behind.

"Meet me at the bloated float in the waterfront!" she shouted, her voice barely discernable as it carried on the wind.

Later..

Tora rode fast through the woods, one hand on his Naginata, riding the horse side saddle, with both legs over the right side. Holding on tightly to the chestnut horses reins with his left hand. The tree's whipped past him in a blur of brown and green, looking like a smudged painting in his peripheral vision.

The thunderous beating of hoof on compacted dirt managed to catch the attention of two of them, one cross bow wielding imperial, and a female altmer. The rest of the attention was still on the innocent Dunmer.

Tora acted immediately as soon as the two bandits turned toward him, lifting one foot onto the saddle and pushing off, His horse skidded to a halt and reared as he landed on the floor, a ploom of dust shooting out from around him as his cloak swirled in the wind. Staying low, Tora span, rising upwards with the Naginata, slashing the neck of the Atlmers horse. The warm liquid spewed forth as the Altmers horse reared, too little to late, mixing with the dirt, congealing to look like a vial patch of vomit. Tora carried on moving in a circular motion, his combat style somewhat poetic in movement, like a hypnotic dance.

His eyes where now on the imperial, whom was taking aim, ready to fire. Tora was to slow, for the first time he could remember. The imperials bolt flew towards him, time itself seemed to slow as Tora released the Naginata. He could count the seconds as the lance passed the arrow in mid air, both heading in opposite directions with different destinations.

The imperial flew backwards, his legs tangled in the horses reins as he fell. The weight of the man pulled the horse down atop of him, crushing his legs under its weight. The lance sticking out of his chest like an obscure flagpole.

Tora carried on in his rotation, holding a hand out as the bolt passed over it, instead of hitting him in the chest like all logic demanded, it followed his hand as he rotated, Storing its momentum for the time being. As he lined up with the Altmer, she held a hand aloft and let loose a torrent of hellfire.

Every muscle in Tora's body tensed as he leaned toward the Altmer, his left leg straight, the right stomping down onto the ground, releasing all the energy built up within him. The bolt, released from Tora's magical trappings, regained its momentum and flew towards the Altmer, passing through her fire ball, striking her in the throat.

The tiger like beast remained in his stance, drawing in energy. His hand, still outstretched from releasing the bolt, formed a tight fist, with his middle and fore finger outstretched. The fireball split in two and passed around his body in a tempest like torrent before rejoining on the other side and colliding with a tree.

He looked at the Altmer, sprawled out on her back, her throat gurgling as blood filled her mouth and lungs, the arrow still burning from the fire, her death would be slow, Tora would not see to it that it was sped up.

Leaving her side without so much as a second glance, he placed a foot on the Imperials shoulder, He was dead. Most certainly, the Naginata's blade had passed through his chest cavity and severed his spine. A sickening crack of bones and squelch of dead flesh filled Tora's sensitive ears as he ripped the blade from the imperials chest, wiping it on both sides over his pants.

His horse was now up and on its feet, seemingly unharmed by its fall, and was now moving slowly away from its deceased master toward Tora's chestnut mount.

He looked around to see the Dunmer fighting off the bandits with the skill of many warriors. He had never witnessed any but himself and those he'd learned from fight in such a way, he had a sudden wave of regret as he remembered his home.

A lance wielding Nord was fighting with the Dunmer, two others closed in from behind, one with a mace, another with a sword.

Tora ran forward, unscrewing the blade from the top of its pole. He jumped toward the dunmer, holding the Ebony pole outwards and deflecting the imperials sword, raising his own sword to guide the others mace away from him by placing the flat of his blade against the Imperials arm and changing the path or momentum.

Both retreated a few paces before pressing their attack, Tora thought for a split second during their retreat, and spread his feet, sliding them apart, lowering his centre of gravity to prepare for a rising onslaught.

The both ran in unison, one slightly in front, swinging his mace toward Tora with enough force to remove a Senche-Rhats head, a difficult feat. Tora moved in a circular motion, now at the side of the Imperial whose eyes widened in fear as his mace met nothing but hard earth. Tora crouched low before springing up with the pole, The imperial screamed in pain as his eye socked and cheekbone shattered as the blunt pole made contact, forcing him onto his back.

He span again, his arm wrapped around the pole, now behind his back, one side exposed to his left and right thanks to its length, his sword still held in front of him, ready to fend of another attack.

The other imperial seemed to panic at this display of skill and finesse, he was evidently not used to dealing with warriors like Tora or the Dunmer. He swung his sword downward in a desperate attempt to disarm Tora, in both meaning's of the word. The sword bounced off the ebony pole as Tora leant to the side, moving his arm out of the way of the attack and saving it.

He swung again, with the same result, Clang after clang reverberated throughout the woodland around them as Tora blocked each attack the same way over and over. Growing weary of the imperials ineptitude with a blade he jumped backwards, landing on the balls of his feet, knees bent to his chest.

With all the power the finely conditioned muscles in the felines legs could muster, he launched himself forward, spinning in the air, bringing the ebony pole crashing down onto the Imperials head. With a look of utmost surprise he fell backwards, starburst blurring his vision as he tried to focus on the cat-beast walking toward him.

He held his hand up, pleading for mercy where none could be found. It fell to the floor as Tora drove his blade into the mans chest, dragging it upwards on its release, nearly opening a hole big enough to fit a mans head in.

"You, get up." A cold gravely voice spat, The mace wielding imperial scrambled to his feet, blood seeping from between his fingers as he held it over his eye. "I am sparing you're life, leave this place. Never come back. If I meet you again, you're fate will be the same as those you see around you."

He nodded vigorously, leaving his mace on the floor he ran full pelt in the opposite direction, stumbling a little, he was evidently punch drunk from Tora's attack.

"No, leave her, her fate is not mine to decide, It is his." The cold hard voice shouted to the imperial, who was trying to help the Nord woman to her feet as her stump of an arm bled profusely onto the dirt track. He looked toward Tora with his one good eye, confused about who it was that would decide her fate, following Tora's finger his eyes fell upon the battling Dunmer whom he was pointing at. "But take her arm, and use it to warn you're kin of my existence and their impending doom!"

He did just that, picking it up, he began to run into the woodland, where he would be hunted and slaughtered by bears or wolves following the scent of blood, Tora had no intention of letting him live, nor did he have any intention of affording him a clean death. The animals would tear him apart.





OOC: I included my new character sheet with this post incase anybody missed the edit on my first post, hope you all enjoy his opening post. And i just realise that Tora has unwittingly become Serosi's Mysterious stranger perk from FO3 ^.^

Slowly, one by one, Dralithil's little scouts began to return, mostly bringing him information that was completely useless, that was until the last one came buzzing up. Raising his hand and extending his index finger, Dralithil gave the lethal wasp a place to land.

Wasting no time, the wasp crawled onto the back of his hand and began to crawl in complicated patterns. Figure eights, complete circles, zigzags, it seemed to do them all. It would appear as nothing more then a creepy bug moving around to most, but to Dralithil, it was reporting something important.

" He's here? " The Bosmer whispered, leaning in close to his beatiful little assassin. Acute green orbs carefully watched the little creatures movements as sensitive ears picked up on the subtle changes in the buzzing sound his beating wings put off. After a brief moment, he got the answer he wanted.

" That is the best news I have heard since I arrived in this damn city. Lead on my little friend, but fly slow, remember, I'm blind. " He said with a chuckle, still having to play the part of a blind begger as he gathered all the details he could about Serosi and his current location.

With that, the little wasp rose up like a dry leave being blown in a soft breeze. Dralithil also quickly shot up, his quick, fluid movements betraying the drunken, blind begger he was playing the part of. After taking the time to raise his hood, make sure his weapons were still hidden, and adjust the cloth bandage over his eyes for clearer vision, he was off, following his scout as he lead him down the cobble streets.

Moving at a slow pace, walking stick moving back and forth ahead of him, he made his way towards the center of the city towards the small, grassy island. As he neared closer, the putrid scent carried on the breeze told him his wasp was correct in its findings. The Nameless man was near, and he smelt like he hadn't took a bath since the last time they had met.

A smile couldn't help but creep across the Bosmers dirty face when he saw the grumpy looking man. Dressed in a black long coat and smoking a cherry pipe, with grey tendrils of smoke curling up around his head before reaching to the heavens was just the way the assassin remembered him. Next to him appearing as a child was what had to be his Imp, because what little Dralithil knew about him was that he was not a fatherly figure." I guess some things never change. " He chuckled softly to himself as he neared the duo.

" Please sir, can you spare a septim for a war veteran? " Dralithil asked loudly as he came to stand infront of the two, having had to use a bit of alteration magic to walk on water. He was hoping most around him wouldn't notice, and that the ones that did wouldn't think much of it. As he spoke, he stuck out his tin cup infront of him.

Leaing in closer, he began to speak in a whisper, his face flashing a grin that spread from ear to ear. " It is good to see you again, Erin. " He called the wizard by his alias, not knowing his given name. " And you to, Bomanz. " He glanced down at the little " child " as he gave a wink, sliding up one side of of the bandage covering his eyes for just a brief second before letting it slip back down.

OOC: Sorry for not posting, had a lot to do over the last few days. Not that my character was actually doing anything at the time anyway. And boy, talk about having a lot to read. Almost as if I'm reading a book.

IC: Verus relaxed in his chair, leaning back and crossing his arms as his eyes closed. He would have preferred to be somewhere quiet where no one could bother him, but it didn't really matter, as he could simply tune out what was going on around him. All the events that had taken place recently had left him rather lost and confused, and certainly not at all prepared for a mission. He typically spent quite some time preparing various items that he would use as well as establishing multiple plans on how to approach and eliminate the target. It would seem that he would have no such opportunity with this target. However, it seemed logical to think that, in the end, it really wouldn't matter, as there were a great many members gathering to kill this Serosi. Members far more powerful or skilled than he.

Though he had no idea of just how powerful this Serosi was, if he was powerful enough to escape several of his brethren, then there was no way that Verus could possibly be powerful enough to stand against him. His talents did not include combat or agility or anything that the typical warrior would use, but rather in deception and planning; tricking and deceiving others into accomplishing his tasks for him. So in the end, he doubted just how useful he might be in this endeavor. Regardless though, he still had a great desire for revenge, and while he would make certain to never engage the Dunmer in direct combat, he would be sure to be there when his death came. He could only hope that it would be one appropriate to his crime; that is to say, slow and painful.

He opened his eyes several minutes later and watched the crowds come and go. He paid them little mind though. His attention was solely on the door, watching for Sebastian to return or for another brother to arrive. When he finally arrived with Parthia, he watched her closely, wondering where she had been. He was tempted to ask Sebastian, but, figuring that it was none of his business, let it go. He continued to watch her for a few more moments though, before turning to Sebastian and saying, "I see you located our missing sister. Did you happen to find Almerion also?"

"My face is irrelevant, what is relevant is where Serosi is going." Oglind's voice remained of the dunmeress prefering not to give anything away. It also gave him a bit of a taunting edge. "Maybe he's going to Leyawiin to destroy the sanctuary there. You know you do have disloyal members that jump to out side every once in a while. We get that sort of information sometimes. Do you doubt Serosi's ability? Killing me would mean nothing to the Morag Tong, but a great loss to you."

Oglind allowed for his words to be considered for a moment before going on. "Inside the drawer of the table is a piece of paper. Ring the bell ontop of the table and then open it. The paper has a spell on it which will only appear with that bell. If you open it first the paper will burn up. What is written will be Serosi's destination." Oglind curiously waited to see what the Nord would do.



Parthia looked away feeling uncomfortable. Worried about her? What a strange thing to say, kind, but strange. "It's fine." Her response was quick and softer than even she intended. Inside her body turned frozen with worry. She didn't understand it herself, why should she care for Almerion. But it was her responsibility in a way to protect him and the others, if they die? No it doesn't matter this is just a method for her to attain the money she needs for her schooling and nothing more than that. To think of it any further would be dwelling on things that did not concern her in the least. Parthia shifted in her seat, her ankles grazing one another as her palms were flat against the seat, her shoulders raising slightly as she stretched her back in a not so obvious way.



Serosi turned his horse around which now seemed restless taking step after step and circling around. Serosi rotated his head and kept his eyes voiced on the Khajiit which had so quickly vanquished four of the seven bandits. The Nord he had "knocked off" the horse was grumbling on the ground, the Nordess was missing her arm and the Imperial woman he had first met at the cascades was just getting up after having been thrown off of her horse due to Serosi. As soon as both of her feet were on the ground she darted eastward on the road. Serosi instinctivly rode his horse hard toward her drawing his bow and placing an arrow on the string. He timed his shot while his horse was with all four hooves off the ground allowing the arrow to hit true trapping her sleeve against one of the trees beside her. It jolted her but she quickly turned around lifting her hand to cast a spell. Before anything could come of it she stood with both arms above her head, her sleeves trapped by individual arrows. She began trying to slip out of her robe but before she could Serosi placed a firm kick in her stomach knocking her out as he passed by with his horse. He turned the steed around looking at the imperial who's air had been knocked out. As he drew each arrow of the the tree her body fell limp to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. After placing his arrows back as well as his bow he reached down leaning in his saddle grasping the imperial woman by the back of her robe and lifting her up over the front of his saddle, her head pointing toward the right side.

Serosi loved reading history, about the wars, tactics and the Velothian past. The practice of slavery had begun amongst the Dunmer using prisoners of war when they would fight the nedics and argonian tribes on their borders. Instead of killing them they put them to work. Serosi felt like a Chimer noble of old times having just taken his bounty of a battle. There was no point killing her, at least not yet. He rode his horse slowly toward the new comer Khajiit and stopped several meters away not saying a word.

Almerion

He listened to the face changed say their piece before pondering on the words said. He only had a vague lead from the papers received in the sanctuary, the rest would just be luck and guessing games. It was worth a shot.

"If you try anything I will remove that pretty stolen face of your's, and ensure that you will be a thief of identity no more." Almerion said over his shoulder as he turned his back to her for the first time in her presences. Probably not a smart move, but it was one he could afford to make when the answer to his question was so close.

The floorboards creaked under the weight of the Nord as he walked toward the drawers. A small bell, the type a bed ridden noble would use to call his servants would use, was sat atop of it. A small bell head and wooden handle, Almerion picked it up, holding it between his thumb and fore finger. He could sense no foreboding energy on the object. He assumed it was safe at any rate. The letter however was another matter.

He could feel a strong enchantment upon it, a complex spell hidden within the parchment. He sensed a some what complexity to it but he could not place its school, so he could not assume any danger. He turned his head and glanced at the Dunmer, she was standing sentinel as he told her.

The shrill high pitched tinckeling of the bell rang out in the room for a few seconds as Almerion shook it. He sensed a change in the room, the magical energy suddenly pulsating then dissipating. Assuming it was safe to do so, he opened the letter, One simple word was written upon it.

Bruma

"Bruma.." He muttered to himself, he would finally be returning to his old town. Something he'd never intended to do. "Now madam, you die." He said, eyes still on the letter, he span around, his fist close behind. Swinging in a perfect hook motion with enough force to keep his promise of removing her face.

A crash resounded throughout the room as Almerion's hand collided with the oak bet post. It snapped and splintered as wood met Ebony, sliding the entire bed backwards a few inches. She had disappeared, Almerion now realised the real spell enchanted upon the paper, Recall.

He bolted, leaving the room and thundering his way down the stairs. He glanced over to the brotherhood table, Sebastian was back and Parthia was there too, that was good, it was time to act.

"Sebastian, leave through the eastern exit, immediately. Behind the stables is a red and black merchant carriage, ready it for my arrival. Go." Almerion spoke fast, Sebastian rose to his feet and left immediately, shouldering past a very offended Breton who nearly toppled to the floor as he made his way into the Tavern. "Parthia, Ticedo, come with me. The rest of you, wait a short while then leave. Follow us from afar, stay off the roads and watch for any following us."

He didn't wait for any replies, most of the time replies meant objections, and he was not the kind of person to take objections lightly. Spinning on his heel, he rushed out of the door and headed toward the Sanctuary.






Tora

The imperial woman scrambled from the scene, The dunmer quick to follow. He turned from the chase and gathered the fallen weapons together, rolling them in a clot sheet on the back of one of the horses, away from desperate hands with desperate ideas.

A low groan caught his attention, walking over to the winder Nord on the floor, he placed a foot upon him and kicked him onto his back. His face was half covered in dust and sweat, he looked up at Tora with bleary watering eyes. A look of confusion on his face.

"You have been defeated, It would be unwise of you to try anything that would get you into trouble no?" Tora muttered, kicking him back to the ground as he tried to get up.

"What are you?" a baratone like voice asked from the floor, quivering as he tried to catch his breath.

"A simple traveller, nothing more." Tora replied, walking away gathering the horses, there where five in total, six counting the one Tora had killed. But that was useless. Using a length of rope from his travel pack he tied their reins together, giving him a leash of sorts to guide them with. He then tied it around the Nord's hands. "Try anything stupid and it will not be me who kill's you, it will be the five horses dragging you along in their wake, ripping you're body apart on the floor."

He thought about it for a minute, eyeing Tora's own weapon with cruel eyes before relenting and dropping his head to the floor, greedily drinking in oxygen to recover from the fall. The armless woman behind the two began to stir, trying to stem the bleeding as she drifted in and out of conciousnes. Much of her wound had clotted, the blood was seeping out at a slower rate now. But she would die soon enough.

Tora's ear's twitched, moving towards a sound of rustling in the bushes, another Bandit perhaps, or an animal on the scent of blood. He couldn't tell, he was down wind and any scent created by it would be blown away from him. Another noise interrupted his musings, he turned to see the Dunmer return, the unconscious imperial slumped over his horse.

"Ah- You have taken a prisoner as well I see? Will you be collecting bounty on her or will she be kept as you're concubine?" He said to the Dunmer in a polite voice, bowing his head in greeting. "My name is Tora no Rikuganshokan, I am humbled to be of help."

Before the dunmer could reply, a shrill cry rang out. Tora span, lifting his weapon instinctively to see Ma'Dharji clambering to her feet, his belongings wrapped up and carried over her back.

"Ah, Ma'Dhrarji the cat burglar, I thank you for returning my belongings, although I hope none are broken after you're trip." he said, a strange look on his face which was that of a smile.

"No, theyre fine don't worry, my ribcage broke the fall." She grumbled, rubbing her ribs as she handed over his bag.

"I am sorry, thank you for returning them." He said, bowing his head again, a gesture he may use all to often. "Akuma!"

The horse trotted over obediently, turning to accept the new load of baggage it was to be burdened with before bracing for Tora's added weight as he climbed up.

"Where are you headed?" He asked, offering her a hand. "I will take you, I have no destination in mind, I go where my feet, or rather, Akuma's feet take me."

"Bruma, I need to see a fence before returning to the city. Cant I use one of these horses?" She asked, eyeing the remaining room on Tora's mount with doubt.

"They are not mine, and you are a thief. I have not known you for long enough to completely trust you."

"Trust me!" she cried incredulously, arms wide and waving. "But you trusted him, who says he isn't an outlaw and you just killed a group of bounty hunters sent by the Imperial city?"

Tora contemplated this for a moment, looking at the noble with some curiosity before turning his attention to the Nord.

"Are you a bounty hunter?" he asked, the Nord simply looked at him like a mad man before rolling his eyes and flopping down. "I don't think I am mistaken Ma'Dharji, he does not look like a criminal."

"Niether do I, but I'm in the thieves guild." She replied, relenting and taking his hand, clambering up behind him and clutching at his waist as the horse shifted a little.

"Friend, where is you're destination, perhaps we can travel these unsafe roads together? What is you're name?"

OOC: Unless we get some more people and some more interaction going I don't care to continue this. The point was all of us moving into these two groups while building up character interaction. And then at key points we'd have small skirmishes, highly stylized combat scenes and then pick up and move on again investigating in the cities and villages that we stop in. But we're kind of unsure of that it seems so i'll give it a while and if it doesn't get the speed I think it should, we'll shut it down for now.

OOC: Havn't given up yet but I need to see some improvement if you guys want this. Feel da burn!

IC:

With Almerion's help ironically, Oglind re-appeared in the New Lands Lodge room he had rented the previous night. His appearence slowly changed from that of the attractive Dunmeress to the Morag Tong assassin he was. His bored eyes looked around the room before he made his way out of the room. Still a bit worried he looked down each side of the hall in case the spell somehow merely took him to another room of the Cheydinhal Inn instead. He contemplated his ability to steal other's faces. How far would that take him? He would need to perfect it so that not even scent could be used to detect a difference. What a terrible ability Oglind had used. He often had dreams where he was the people who's face he had stolen. Those trusting faces he could conjure upon other's faces with the stolen face he himself wore. To his targets he could be a sibling, a parent, a lover, and they would gaze upon Oglind with the very trust they held for those people, and at that moment he would betray that trust. That horrible look his victims had of broken trust was the worst. Oglind didn't just kill his victim, he also killed the reason for them to live.


These ideas left him as he made his way down the stairs where he recognized a few of the fellow Morag Tong. Shqip had formed a bit of a one sided friendship with Oglind who didn't consider anyone to be close to him in the Morag Tong, or if he did Shqip certainly wasn't one of them. "It's been set. Are we ready?" Oglind commented. There were so few of them, but more would arrive along the way.