Kharro observed the reactions of his companions - former companions now - and that of the Legionaires guarding the shelter. Most were suspicious of his leaving, as he expected they would be. There was nothing to be heard from Ren, though he suspected her to be the loudest of them all.

What did you expect? That she would beg you to stay? I wonder what would she do when she would realize what you are. That she has been conversing with a vampire all this time.

Kharro didn't break his stride and he slowly vanished behind the corner of the nearest ruin. As soon as he was out of their sight, his mind raced to erase the time he spent with
the group of unruly mortals and to resurrect his vampiric memory.
The entrance to the Cheydinhal sanctuary was once hidden under a certain abandoned house. All houses were abandoned now, or so it seemed. He would need to take his bearing with something, preferably the cathedral or the castle. He was surprised the castle wasn't used as the building block for the shelter.

It was probably the first building in the city to have fallen to Corprus.

His brainstorming was interrupted by the moaning of the Corprus monsters. He was not concerned about them. All he did was slip on his enchanted ring and continued on his
path. As long as he did not come too close to one of them he was safe, he reckoned.

It took nearly two hours to finally find the right ruin. Kharro took his time with the gravel and wood, digging his way into the cottage basemant.
Am I the only one using this entrance? he found himself asking. There must be another entrance outside of the city now, one that would be revealed to me when I re-take my place.

Luckily, the tunnel from the cellar to the sanctuary entrance was not blocked. He made his way down, using his natural night vision to see in the dark. The path seemed to be a bit longer than before.
Finally, he could see the end of the tunnel, a huge black slab of stone with the familiar carvings on it. It was a most reassuring thing to see.
Until he got right up to it.

The stone slab was split right down the middle. The crack was wide as his finger. The carvings were faded, the color gone from them.
Kharro realized he was trembling. He laid his hands on both halves of the slab and pushed with all his strength. The two stone pieces moved and fell to the floor with the loudest of crashes. Despite the fear and anxiety, he stepped inside.

The sanctuary was empty and long abandoned.
Sithis no longer reigns here.
He stared into the damp walls, his mind a void.

What do I do know?

Perhaps you should cry about it. That might work.
With an angry gesture, Kharro pushed the annoying voice in his head to silence.
I cannot stay here. But before I go, I must see if anything useful has been left behind.
He sought to search all the chambers, most notably the armoury and Vicente Valtieri's private quarters. Kharro was going short on the blood supply and he would need everything he could find.

He found no blood vials in his maker's quarters. It was a situation he most dreaded.
I have but five vials. If I run out of blood completely, I will be unable to enter any human settlements. I will have nowhere to repair my equipment. Unless I attack and kill the first mortal I encounter. That would make me the vermin I fought so hard no to become. The five vials can sustain me for a fortnight at best and probably even less time than that.

He decided to search the armoury afterwards. But halfway to it he got a sense that the walls were crashing down on him.
It cannot be a panic attack. I'm a vampire! Vampires don't have panic attacks.
Yet his lungs struggled to breathe as if there was no air in the abandoned sanctuary.
I must get out. Now.
He stumbled over the turned over broken stone slab and hurried outside.

The air outside was thick with corruption and smoke, but he felt better under the open sky, no matter the ashen clouds.
What will I do now? Where should I go?

Such a helpless thing you are, mighty assassin. Why are you surprised? Eventually, everyone abandons you. Unless you abandon them first.
Kharro snarled at his imaginary tormentor, but he only laughed at him.
You should know it by now: you cannot survive on your own. You fancy yourself a loner and survivor but you can survive only on other people's attention. I give you a week, two at the most. Then you will go mad and find some Corprus monster to relieve you of your sorry existence.

"Not if I relieve myself first!"
Kharro took his black dagger into his hand and placed its point to his heart.
"What will you say now?" he challenged his tormenter out loud. "If you know how to, vampires can die just as easily as any mortal. What will you do? Eh? What will you do!"

And then, just as he was about to plunge the blade into his chest, something caught his attention. A sound came to him, a sound of struggle and violence. It was enough to make his instincts take over. His dagger was back in its sheath, his bow strung and ready. He put his ring on once again and took of in search of battle...

Ra'shinavi stood still, his ears flicking, twitching about acting like Radar dishes trying to pinpoint the source of the moaning. His sister stood by next to him and listened herself, however her hearing wasnt as well trained as his. "What is it..shin?" she asked softly. Turning around Shinva grabbed his sisters wakizashi and shoved her aside as the beast swung up one massive arm connecting the reactive khajiit in the chest sending him back a few feet and on his back. The agile khajiit growled lightly and went to flip himself onto his feet only to have the massive flesh pile atop him, the only thing preventing it from ripping his throat out was his feet against its shoulders, though such an awkward position was easily attainable for naturally flexible khajiit (to groom and do other things...) it did have limits.

---

Theresa growled as she was shoved out of the road and hit the dirt hard, only to notice her brother was being tossed like a rag doll by the massive meatbag. She couldnt use magick on it and her brother had taken her blade. Grabbing a plank of wood she dragged it over and golf-swung it into the beasts side knocking it off him, impaling a small chunk into its flank. The beast screamed bitterly as it staggered up.

---

Shinva growled and kept pushing it up with his might, only to see it come flying off him with a loud *THWACK!* and crunching noise from a thick plank of wood. He looked to the side and saw it was his sis, dragging himself up off the ground the khajiit rubbed his head and winced as the beast had grabbed him,, Shinvas instant responce was to kick it, which in turn had him thrown to the ground and into a rock and log, a jutting out chunk of stick piercing through Shins arm. A loud roar echoed as blood began to trickle down it. The beast looked at him, ignoring the woman for now, the blood to it was like moonsugar to khajiit. It began to walk towards him, mouth open, what appeared to be saliva running down its maw.

---

Theresa smiled as her brother got up, thankful the beast hadnt bitten him, but when it came up from behind -he had forgotten it wasnt dead- and grabbed him, a stomp on the foot earned her brother a swing into the dirt. His pained cry echoed in her head as the beast began to descend upon him. Risking her clumsiness with ranged spells Teresa wove a spell of destruction, her mood turning to anger and rage as her paws began to glow with lightening energy, pulling the sleeves of the coat back she threw both hands out at the beast a loud thunderclap followed as the bright burst of lightening struck it in the spine leaving a nasty stinking scorch mark. The spell had other effects, lingering around inside of the beast it was getting cooked, Theresa ran up to it and gripped the beast casting a frost spell to freeze it where it stood. Which it did eventually. Freezing up like an ice cube though not for to long.

Pushing the stiff beast aside, making it shatter on the ground Theresa got to her brother and knelt down looking it over. "It..fricking hurts.." he whimpered looking at the blood covered chunk sticking through his right arm.

Winna sighed as Ren headed off to go before her, despite the dunmer having offered to go. The girl is a natural disaster... she found herself thinking grumpily. And we all just get swept away...

She looked at Matthew. "I'm no fan of a mind-probe either," she admitted. "I guess all we can hope is that we don't cry too hard when they hit the painful stuff." She attempted to give the legionnaire a quick smile, but it looked like more of a grimace. Winna was unsure how to act friendly with others- it seemed so long since she'd ever had to- but she did like Matthew, and wanted to make an effort with him.

Her eyes landed upon the mages who would be administering the spells. How exactly had their probing effected them? For surely, nobody could delve into the dark recesses of the minds of others and leave unscathed?

As they formed a circle around Ren, she began to panic. The pain had clearly been hard for Fin to bear- how much harder would it be for defenseless young Ren?

---------------

The magic swooshed through her soothingly, but she was tense in anticipation of what was to come, and so the magic held no relaxation for her. Indeed- it only served as a reminder of what was to come.

What was going to happen? Would she cry? Would she scream? How would the others react if she were to be hurt?

And what would happen when her secret was inevitably found out?

I'll have to tell them sometime... she thought grimly, and then the pain began.

At first, it was only in one part of her brain, a sharp, acute pain as if they were drilling a hole into her mind. Her expression was pained, her features scrunched up against it, but she made no sound. But then... then there was the awful slippery feeling, the feeling of them sliding into her brain like tiny parasites, and she felt nauseous.

And then the real pain began. Tears filled Ren's eyes as memories flashed past her- her family, unknown, the corprus claiming so many lives- her dreams of becoming a travelling bard vanquished as she was quarrantined into one of the city Shelters, just like everyone else. She remembered the abuse she'd recieved from others, and being unable to fight back, knowing that their attacks were due to the pain they had suffered. She remembered the dreamer that had tried to knife her in her sleep.

And she remembered her faith. She remembered praying desperately every night, begging the Nine to help her, desperate to understand how any of this could have been allowed to happen. Her hands reached to her head, pressing against it as if to squeeze the mages' out. But despite the horrible, excruciating, all consuming pain, she did not cry out, and she forced back her tears, gritting her teeth so hard she half-wondered if they would emerge intact. She refused to be weak in this way in front of her friends.

And then, suddenly, in a moment that was crystallised in her mind forever, golden light swamped everything.

She was alone, and yet wasn't. Though she could see nobody else, she had the overwhelming feeling that He was there, somewhere. She wandered the golden light aimlessly, the first happy moment in what felt like an eternity.

"Ren..." a voice came. And then she realised that He was not there- He was around her. She walked now within Akatosh. And she knew that he had a message for her...

"Ren, you must not allow this to wither inside of you..." the voice came again. Ren frowned... this wasn't how it had happened... this wasn't the same...

"Only by showing trust can trust be gained. And only as a team, as a unit, as I created you to be, can you accomplish unmaking what was created..."

Ren blinked, confused. This wasn't the same, not the same at all... what was happening?

"There are many things you must confess, Renoit... to others, and to yourself..."

And then, dimly, a sillhouette of a sillhouette, the pattern of a wing shimmered, and a golden eye gleamed, and a great tail snaked away.

The pain was still there, still excruciating, and the memories came faster and faster... more recent now. She saw Dar'Shandi, and Corrin and Phoenix- bless their souls- and Matthew and Winna and Kharro and Fin... her time with them flashed before her eyes and she saw in detail more painful than any spell cast upon her the stupidity of her actions and words, how she had failed in her relationships with them again and again, and how she failed to grasp her true feelings for any of them at all.

And then, at last, she was at the mages, half-crouched but unwilling to bend knee before them, and the spell ended. Ren was drenched with sweat, her lips pressed together in a tight line, and her purple eyes were haunted, but she was whole, and she was free of them.

The mages said nothing as she left. Though they had seen many bizarre and strange things, they had not learned the true nature of her time with Akatosh- indeed, they only though the edit they had seen a dream.

Ren saw Fin standing away from the group now, could see that his wish was to be alone with his thoughts. But, shaken though she was too, she realised that she wanted to stand with him, to support him through his pain and to seek comfort in his presence.

She bit her lip, and went to stand on her own instead. Many things had surfaced in her mind, and she was unwilling to face them.

OOC: I'm gone this weekend, folks, won't be back until Sunday Evening. You can carry on, but no making a new thread, and try not to have too much happen. RP my characters if you feel it necessary.

Sorry to leave you hanging.

OOC: Its quite alright, Glorious Leader. We shall wait and/or RP our way through your absence! *Battle march music*

ooc: Indeed so! *twirls mustache*

ic: During the walk back to where he'd left the two siblings, S'Kragki grumbled about the shielded corprus. His ears laid flat against his dreadlocks and he sputtered foul language in Ta'agran, calling the beast things that were impossible to translate to Cyrodiilic. He was about halfway back when he heard Ra'Shinavi's roar of pain. Clutching his weapon to his chest, he sprinted towards his destination, hoping, nay, praying he would not be too late. If one or both of them die.. No.. They won't die so I won't think about it. The vampire vaulted wreckage and debris, coming up just in time to see -and hear, for that matter- Theresa torch the thing with a bolt of lightning. He smiled a moment before noticing the brother was bleeding rather badly from a shard of wood stabbed clean through his arm. The smile fell from his face instantly and he set his hands gently on either side of the wound on the Khajiit's arm.

"Hell. That's.. nasty. If you can handle the pain, I can yank it out, but I'd have to pick a few splinters out before I could heal it, lest you get an infection." He informed him simply, "I've done it to myself before, and I won't lie, it hurts like all hell, but.."

S'Kragki fell silent in mid-sentence, let go of Shinavi and walked briskly past him. He drew his sword as he walked, seeing and hearing something around the corner of a bit of ruins. As he rounded the corner, he looked at where he'd thought he'd heard something, letting off a grunt of annoyance. Well, I thought there was.. Oh, [censored].

He heard it a second too late. Turning, he took a lash to the face from the arm of a corprus stalker, the impact knocking him back, forcing him to stumble backwards a few feet to keep from falling. Shaking the stars from his vision, he looked at the thing, its small stature, pointed ears and surmised it had likely been a Bosmer at one point in time. The creature stood a full foot and a half below him, its mouth open dumbly, glaring at him. It stumbled towards him at a rather fast pace considering its left leg had bloated to the size of his waist. "You're kidding me, right?"

S'Kragki groaned and waited for it to get to him, grabbed it by the neck and just lifted it up like it was merely a child, looking into the sullen eyes. "No." He barked in its face. Spinning quickly, he used his turning momentum to throw the thing into a broken wall where its spine hit the edge and cracked sickeningly. Looking at it, a small cough of laughter escaped his throat and he grinned at it, then turned to grin at the two Khajiit a ways away, starting towards them. "Ugly sonuvah didn't know what he was getting into." S'Kragki smirked, sheathing the sword on his back once more. "Well, shall we go n.."

His sentence was cut off as something gripped his arm and wrenched it around, pulling him stumbling with it, then releasing him to go flying a good six feet, where he landed, rolled and stopped facing a rather large lame corprus that seemed mad he'd killed its buddy. His right arm was wrenched and fairly nonresponsive, tingling pain consuming his senses there. There was no way he could use either of his weapons properly like this, and he did not want to get close enough to use magick on it. Looking to Theresa and Ra'Shinavi, he sighed in his head, yelling to them.

"If you can kill it, kill it, otherwise.." He grit his teeth as he tried to work the numb out of his arm by moving his shoulder joint, just a quick pause in his speech, "Otherwise, run!"

ooc: That's Kharro's cue to save the day if he feels like it.

OOC: The white and black bloodsvckers... soon to be best buds!
IC:

Winna sighed as Ren somehow survived, going to stand beside Fin. "I guess it's my turn..." she muttered. She glanced at Matthew, and with a ghost of a smile- perhaps the closest she'd got to really smiling in years- she added, "If it kills me, feel free to avenge me." Her black humour was compounded by the fact that Matthew himself was a Legionnaire- it was just a dark joke.

She marched over to the circle of mages, unsheathing her swords and letting them clatter to the ground at her feet. "If you even have half the skill required to do this right, I'll be amazed," she informed them.

The mages expressions were mixtures of disbelief and nerves.

Then they joined hands around her and began to chant. Magicka washed over Winna, and she closed her eyes at the cool feel of it.

This way... she directed them silently, showing them around her body with the reserves of her own magicka like a guide. The ex-priestess of Dibella knew her own body very well, as the Godess of Beauty dictated, and it soon became clear that she was free of disease.

The mages were startled, however, by what they found within her- traces of Dibella's presence could be found all over her make-up- in the past, Winnamine had been blessed many times by the Aedra, and pieces of those blessings remained upon her body still.

Once they had finished, they gripped each others hands more tightly, and dove into her mind. Winna hissed as they forced their way into her head, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and baring her teeth in a grimace of pain.

The creature that was their combined search clamoured all around her mind, causing pain wherever it went. It searched through her time as a Knight of the Lily, one of the most honoured and beautiful of Dibella's Order, one of the most optimistic and sweet-natured there.

But then the corprus came, and the mages watched as Winna was forced to behead her own sisters, delirious with corprus. They watched as her spirit died and her heart withered, and her faith disappeared entirely, Winna believing that the Gods were dead or had abandoned them, and the supernatural beauty bestowed upon her began to fade.

They followed her through her years as one of the most feared mercenaries in Cyrodiil, destroying corprus and dreamers for money, not principal, and having to earn her entry to the shelters simply to get food and water.

They watched as she was quarrantined into the Imperial City shelter, and then, after a long time, finally got out with a group of civilians to unknown purpose, and how secretly, she was beginning to care about life again, and about those she travelled alongside.

And then, at last, they left her. Winna was drenched in sweat, her eyes bright with pain, and she was panting heavily. THe mages' stepped back from her, disturbed by the darkness within her heart.

She only stared blankly at them. "Don't ever touch me again," she warned, shaken. They had touched on the most secret parts of her heart, the darkest recesses of her mind, that were for her eyes and hers alone. She marched away from the group to stand on her own, picking up her weapons as she went.

There, lonely and to the side of the group, she stood, hugging herself, head down, and looking more vulnerable than she ever had.

OOC: Oh, he does.

IC: Kharro was perched on the roof of Cheydinhal's cathedral, crouching in the shade of the bell tower, looking at the commotion below.

A group of travellers entered Cheydinhal's ruins and apparently encountered some of the less civilized dwellers. What interested him the most was the fact that all three were Khajiit.

He watched with silent fascination as the trio battled the relentless Corprus monsters. Two of them were of Cathay breed or close to it, but Kharro's attention was immediately swallowed by the great white Khajiit.
First of all, as he went on his own and got surprised by something that used to be a mage or something close to it, the white Khajiit drew a crossbow.

It seemed such an unusual weapon for a cat of such strength and size. Kharro had always considered a bow to be a gentleman's weapon because it made one look elegant drawing it. The crossbow, however, seemed a failed exaggeration of the bow's elegance. One could fire a single shot with all the arrogance they could muster but then they must bend down and labour by pulling the string. It was like pulling cabbages and carrots out of the ground. A peasant's work, all the nobility gone with that single arrow.

Yet there was more to the big white one. He intentionally went to fight in close quarter with the beast, enduring powerful blows and yet didn't suffer any expected injury. A normal person should be beaten to death by now.

I've never seen anyone hit a Corprus with their forehead before.

There was an aura of self-confidence around this white Khajiit. He fought like an ordinary tavern drunkard yet his blows dealt an astonishing amount of damage. Still, Kharro believed the monsters were in fact stronger. The only thing that saved the big white Khajiit was the absence of a clear mind in the rotting brain of the Corprus victims. All they could do was walk and grab but not to plan, parry or feint. As long as they were few, any decent warrior could hope to best them.

The snarl that came out of the white Khajiit's snout as he strangled the Corprus with his bare hands made Kharro's spine shiver. There was something very unusual about this Khajiit. The shocking part of it was that he liked it.
Could he actually be...
A strange suspicion grew in Kharro's mind. The positive effect of it was he had completely forgotten about his contemplation with putting himself to death. The white Khajiit preseneted a mystery... No, more than that, an unknown type of danger and danger was something Kharro found himself very fond of at the moment.

His turned his focus to the pair now. These two had significantly more trouble with the other Corprus they encountered. Kharro thought the male was done for but he still came up, wounded somewhat.
These two fight together, he was able to see.

The pair possessed all the elegance the big one lacked. Then the female used a spectacular demonstration of destructive magic.
It is the female that is the dangerous one, he decided. Such an ammount of power... It seems only the strongest can survive in the world that Dagoth Ur had created.

All three Khajiit growled and snarled as they fought the beasts. Their ferocious sounds awoke a sense of familiarity in him. He was a Khajiit too after all, no matter what his condition has done to him.
He suddenly felt a great urge to help them. No, it was more than that. He sought their companionship. He could feel himself being pulled towards them.

A group of only Khajiit. Do you really believe they would accept you just because of that? Doesn't it bother you that they might simply decide to kill you once they realize what you are?
"Possibly," muttered Kharro to himself. "Maybe that is what I'm hoping for," he added a second before he threw himself from the Cheydinhal cathedral. He landed nimbly on the roof of a tall house nearby, his unique condition enabling his muscles to withstand such strain.

He jumped from one roof to another, feeling unusually good about himself.
You know, the fact that they're Khajiit doesn't neccesarily mean they will accept you.
"I know. But a cat can dream."
Kharro smiled at his own words.
Perhaps he was fooling himself. But for the time being he realized he would rather have this happy illusion than the suicide craving reality.

Kharro caught a glimpse of the white one making haste towards the pair.
He makes haste to help them. They care for each other.
He jumped on one more roof and they were there, dispatching another corprus.

Then something happened. A fourth Corprus appeared. The great white one was in trouble; the Corprus surprised him from behind. Kharro could see he was injured now despite all his strength.

Before he actually thought of it, his bow was loaded, drawn and ready. He took a swift aim and released. The arrow flew as if it were guided by his thoughts and embedded itself right in the beast's left eye.

A second arrow was already in place, in case the Corprus was in need of being skewered again.

OOC: if you need Kharro's second arrow to go someplace in particular, you can use it.

OOC: Teehee. I know where it should go, Aula!

Matthew was still worried about the mind probeing after Ren stepped over to Fin, but was comforted a little bit by Winna's attempt at a smile and joke, even if the smile was hauntingly familiar. He watched silently as they used their magic on Winna, thinking that if she got through it all right he would be fine. After a few seconds however, he knew this to be false as he watched his ally grimace in pain. After their ritual was over, a weakened looking Winna said for the mages to never touch her again, then walked away from the group to stand alone.

"By the gods!" he thought fearfully, "Is it really that bad? It doesn't matter now, but I guess I will find out for myself." Matthew walked over to the still startled looking mages and dropped his sword. "I am ready." he said with a small hint of fear in his voice, "Let's get this over with."

It took a second for the mages to reorganize themselves, but they joined hands and began their chant to begin the ritual. Matthew tensed up his body to prepare for the pain, and as the cool wave of magicka passed over him he ignored it and began to breathe heavily. It took a little longer for them to finish, but they finally found him to be clean of corpus. With that finished, they moved on to the next part of the ritual. Matthew was still bracing himself, but when they finally began to enter his mind he was completely unprepared for it. There was a sharp pain that shot straight through his head, and at first he felt like he had been struck by an arrow. Matthew let out a small grunt of pain as the feeling of an arrow became replaced by the feeling of a worm moving throughout his brain, trying to consume his very consciousness.

He began to see flashes of his life as a child sitting in a garden with his mother, who loved to take in the beauty of nature. He remembered her long black hair, her beautiful yet soft face, and her sad smile. Matthew remembered the way Winna smiled before, and realized it reminded him of his mother. His beautiful mother, who married a man she thought loved her even though he didn't. The loving person who gave up everything she loved to be a good mother. The sad woman who hated her life and couldn't bear to live it anymore. That day in the garden Matthew promised to his mother to become an artist, and his mother only stared and gave him that sad smile of hers.

Then the only thing Matthew could do was despair when the mages flashed forward, and he saw the day his mother commited suicide. Matthew was becoming a young man at that point, and he remembered how he painted everyday to become a better artisHe was gonig to show his mother his newest painting when he came into her room and saw her lifeless boddy on the ground, drenched in a pool of her own blood. He remembered how when he called for his father, the cold legionnaire took only a moment's glance at her body before emotionlessly calling for a servant to get her to a doctor. Another groan escaped Matthew's lips as a single tear fell from his eye, and he couldn't bear to witness these memories any longer.

The mages jumped forward past that fateful night when he gave up painting and to the day he became a Crimson Legionnaire alongside his brother, the only happy memory he had seen so far. Then it jumped forward to his team's first contact with the corpus, and how a couple of his friends died that day. Then it flashed to his time in the Imperial City quarantine center, right before he said goodbye to his brother and joined this group on a seemingly impossible mission.

And finally it was over, the pain left him and he opened his eyes to see the mages moving away from him, ready for the next person. He began to breathe normally again, and he wiped away the tear that stained his face, hoping that nobody saw it. With a mixture of shyness and shame he moved away from the mages with his head down and moved to rejoin the group. He left his sword behind, but at the moment he didn't care since he was reflecting on his sad life. But as he looked at all the members of his party, he had an epiphany. Yes the memories he relived were horrible, but they made him realize that the people here were probabely all he had left. They were his new family, and he had to keep them alive instead of letting them down like he did his mother. Matthew then raised his head, gave a weak smile, and walked over to Fin and Ren. "That was a great experience was it not?" he said sarcastically before letting out a sigh and thanking the Nine for being given a new family.

OOC: I think we'll be old friends by the time you guys go in that shelter. I don't want to think what will we be when you come out.

ooc: rofl XD

ic Theresa watched with horror as the third beast came through, tossing S'kragki around like a rag doll, she let out a lower more guttural growl. Though her brother was her main concern another who was being thrown like a bag of potatoes by the beast. Followed through with an arrow from another unknown, piercing the beast in the eye. Its howling scream send a chill up her and her brothers spine. Muttering something under her breath as she started a conjuration spell, she wasnt particularly skilled with them, nor had much magicka left as she spoke in Ta'agra mixed elfin as she began a summoning of a Fire Antronach from oblivion. Theresa let out a lower growl as her creation grappled with the corprus. Both seemingly matched in strength as they fought. The corprus beast being burned by the antronach, as a second arrow came in skewering the beast in the back of the head. Killing it finally.


ooc: Work?

As funny as it'd be, I don't think S'Kragki would appreciate being shot in the ass. He's already in for enough torment between this and the upcoming scanning.

ic: As it came towards him, the old Khajiit looked the thing straight in the eyes. Well, I knew it had to happen someday.. I suppose all there is to do is fight back as best I can and go down with a little dignity. He thought, but saw that Theresa and Shinavi were not fleeing. Foolish kids! They only just met me, what do they care if I die?

S'Kragki was about to yell at them to get out when there was a whistle, a thunk of something penetrating flesh and the beast let out a horrid scream, forcing him to flatten his ears to keep out the sound as best he could. His head hurt from the shrillness of the cry, but he drew his sword left-handed and faced the thing, trying to move himself into action but unable to even think enough to put one foot in front of the other with the horrid screeching. Theresa fought it with a Flame Atronach, the beast of living lava wrestling with it and burning it. And then, as soon as it began, the screaming stopped. It fell over, an arrow in the back of its head.

"The hell?" S'Kragki muttered, perplexed but not unhappy. He took a look at the angle of the arrow, then looked up at the rooftops of the ruins. Whatever had shot that arrow had been elevated, but he couldn't seem to see the archer. His eyes flashed purple a moment as he channeled magicka through his vampirism to hopefully see what had saved them, and he finally saw it, a creature in dark armor with a hood, face all but covered. He thought he could see a dark nose on the thing, but at this distance it was hard to be sure. In any case, whatever it was could have killed them and opted to help instead, so he sheathed his blade and gave a quick, two-fingered salute accompanied by a nod.

"I don't know who you are, but you saved my hide. Appreciate it." He called up gruffly.

The female called up the fiery creature from Oblivion which roasted the Corprus as they fought. The Corprus put up such a shrill he found himself unable to stand it any longer. So he released the second arrow and shortened its sorry existence.

The great white Khajiit seemed injured. Yet he was the first one to look up. Kharro still wore his chameleon enchanted ring in case the trio would want to defend themselves from someone they mistook for another enemy. Astonishingly, the great white one seemed to see him anyway.
"I don't know who you are, but you saved my hide. Appreciate it."

They spoke to me. A good first response, Kharro considered. He removed his ring and showed them his true form. Then he jumped off the roof, elegantly tumbling in the air, landing on his feet.

Now you are trying to impress them. I thought you wanted to look modest.
"Damn," Kharro muttered as he approached the trio.

He stopped in his stride a few steps away from them.
What should I say?

"Welcome to Cheydinhal," he spoke politely, hoping that would be enough to bring the word around him joining them.

Theresa had already moved to her brother when Kharro came down to greet them. Shinva was already in a partial daze, "Yeah... come on.." he spoke in Ta'agra, an old habit of his when he was hurt like this. Theresa knelt down beside him and gently held his arm and back "Ok..on three..." she said, her brother bracing himself as she counted "One.." she then slid him off the spike quickly making the male wince in pain. "Ow..! Not even three..." he growled softly and got helped up. "Welcome to cheydinhal" they both heard. Theresa looked up "Yeah, our home" she said to the male as she checked the wound, blood was gushing from it but it was a clean through and through hole. She ripped off a piece of fabric and wrapped it around her brothers wound to stop the blood.

She looked at the dark one, he carried that same look as S'kragki did, though subtly she was sizing him up seeing as she had a habit of meeting male khajiit that were vampires and who knew when another who wasnt vampriic would come by. Helping her brother limp over to S'kragki and the other She spoke up "Im Theresa. And thanks for helping us with fugly there. My brother is Ra'shinavi." she nods to her brother who was helping himself keeping up by leaning on her shoulder "And this here the great one kitten is S'kragki." she nodded.

ooc: I didn't know Kharro was chameleoned. I just thought he was really freakin' good at hiding. I guess he really did need to use his Hunter's Sight after all, eh?

ic: Their savior became fully visible now, vaulting down from a height that S'Kragki had never dared try for fear of breaking his legs. Now that he had a better look at the man, the Khajiit had an odd feeling about this fourth cat. There was something that felt familiar about him, but not in a comforting sort of way. It wasn't that he felt he knew this man, it was that he felt like.. somehow.. they were the same in a way. It confused him in his state to think of it, though, so he abandoned the train of thought abruptly. If he was going to kill us, he could have already. He reminded himself.

The new one gave them a welcome to the city and S'Kragki had to laugh. "Well, thanks. I heard the infected ruins were nice this time of year, so I came on over." He shot back, smiling to indicate the joke. When he heard sounds of pain from the two siblings, though, he became serious again and went to look. Though he didn't possess much magicka, S'Kragki was, in theory, as skilled as some healers. The thing most healers had on him was that they could heal more than one bad wound every few hours, whereas he was depleted and tired after such a feat. But spare magicka reserves or no, he knew Shinavi had a much worse injury than he did, and so after only having said a couple words to the new Khajiit, he went to fix Theresa's sibling.

Setting his hands on the wounded area, he closed his eyes and focused past his own injuries, forcing his body to ignore its own damaged parts and heal what he was touching. Cool restorative magick surged into Ra'Shinavi's arm, threads of muscle and blood vessels weaving back together, sealing the hole in his body. The fur would remain gone until it regrew naturally most likely, but within a moment, the Khajiit was more or less in perfect condition. Glancing back at Kharro, he asked in a more serious tone than the other time he'd addressed him, "So, what is it that you're doing out here, friend?"

OOC: Does anyone think Scow is still interested in this, or shall I take Dar'Shandi and move on?

OOC: Is it my turn to get mind fried!?
Hmm... before I post, I think that his mind would be incomprehensible for the mages... partially because it's been completely reformatted by excessive moon sugar and his perpetual "high", and also due to anomolies of the khajiit mind, more accurately, "The khajiit mind is not made for self-reflection", and in there creation stories, they are masters at hiding secrets and their true nature...

... Or... it can go normally, just they'll find memories and traces of moon sugar damage and plenty of (I'm sure) seedy things we won't go into detail about. But seriously; there must be more depth to Shandi than just drugs and six.

Also, stop trying to uber khajiits. Yes, they're really cool, Scow, but they aren't inherently uber, nor are they magic or super-powered, particularly. If you played one in any of the games, it was just as easy to die if you played one, and just as easy to kill them if you didn't.

Come on, I know you can do this. Mind frying or no.

Theresa... Ra'shinavi... S'kragki...
Kharro eyed the great white one with a sort of fascination. He had heard of Khajiit that went off to live in the northern parts of Tamriel, but he never met one until now.
Was that what made this one so special? Or was it something else? Kharro could not say.

"So, what is it that you're doing out here, friend?" the big one spoke.

"That's a good question," Kharro said, knowing he does not have an answer to it. "I came here with a group of travellers. I didn't know their destination but we joined up for safety reasons. They went into the Cheydinhal Shelter. As to what I'm doing here... Well, I thought I would meet with someone I know. But they were not here. So now I'm rather without a destination, other than to remain among the living."

Very good. You didn't lie at all.

Kharro was proud of himself for a moment. Then he realized something: all three of them had battled Corprus beasts.

"You should really be checked for traces of Corprus."
It was not something they would want to hear but he said it anyway, showing them that he cared for their wellfare.

OOC: and now for Dar'shandi's disarming scene... I really should have put some of these weapons in his bio, but... he keeps secrets. :ninja:

IC: Dar'shandi found himself alone, the last of the group to be subjected to the Mage's mind probe. Ever the optimist, he confidently strode into the circle, foolishly declaring, "Take your best shot!"

The mages, however, were less than amused, and glared at the khajiit before he realised what was wrong, "Oh yeah... weapon check." He sighed as he removed his sword belt and bandolier, setting the weapons on the ground with his gem-encrusted ivory shortbow. "Bear with me here," he said, picking his feet off the ground and removing extraordinarily thin gold-tinted knives from the soles of his sandals. Though he moved as quickly as he could, it still took several minutes for him to find his most accessable daggers, removing a pair of long-bladed daggers made of braided plates from the sides of his rabi, which resembled the actual braided stitches beneath. Reaching behind him, he pulled two small curved blades from what appeared to be decorative metal plates behind his shoulders, and six slivers of flexible sharpened metal from a thin crest in the small of his back.

Crouching to one knee, he pulled the legs of his pants across his shin, slicing it open on yet another blade strapped to his shins, rotated about thirty degrees away from center. "Heh... those keep foes from grabbing Dar'shandi's legs..." he muttered as he unstrapped the blades from his shins and put them in the expanding pile of brass-and-mithril blades. Standing up, he pulled two centimeter-thin, straight daggers from the center of the braids of his rabi, causing the top of his outfit to pop open like a clam, revealing a blue shirt underneath, likewise decorated with less metal and more silver and gold embroidery, and bunched-up sleeves. "There are about a half-dozen more blades on it, but Dar'shandi's too lazy to hunt for them and declare them as well," he said, motioning to the downed shirt. He pulled the blue sleeves down over his bare arms, revealing the tips of silver daggers resting across his shoulders, which he then cast to the ground. "That will be all of the weapons on Dar'shandi's person," he declared, looking at the shining pile of sharp and pointy weapons. "Commense with the search!"

The circle was caught off guard by the armory the khajiit carried with him, and wasn't quite sure whether to take his word on whether he removed them all or not. Still, as the leader had said earlier, they would find out soon enough. The khajiit stood still as they chanted and the blue light moved over him, finding no trace of corprus or any other disease. He braced his mind against the impending invasion, by letting Sheggorath take over. The damage to his mind caused by his excessive use of Moon sugar numbed him to the drilling pain, his mind giving way into the madness of the inner workings of his mind.

The very first image that flashed through his mind was himself, fully dressed with both shirts, diagramed with hundreds of annotations of his belongings. He had indeed missed several of the throwing knives on his person, many of them hidden in secret pockets in his blue shirt and pants, as well as a dozen of them in his red rabi. In addition to the arsenal of knives were brass lockpicks, worked into every piece of jewelry large enough to hide one, as well as stitched into the embroidery of both shirts. Oddly enough, every one of his possessions was marked with a crudely traced hand, shaded red. The image flashed briefly, before switching to yet another image of the khajiit, annoted with almost all his physical abilities, reflex times, rotational radii, and the like. Immediately following it was a sucession of corprus beasts, with blank annotations, I've been meaning to fill those in, the psychotic cat thought as the images were brought up. Following the corprus beasts were uniquely identified khajiit, each with full reflex notations and strategies used to overcome, overpower, or escape from them. There were thousands of the mental files, some clearer than others.

After glancing through the images of the fully armored khajiit guards and opponents, Dar'shandi's mind revealed its full perversion, a full anolysis of every woman he had slept with, with vivid details... They moved through those very quickly, finally to the actual, sugar-contaminated memories. Every memory was blurred initially, but cleared up as the Dar'shandi's mind gave up the encryption. Most of the images were of his insane hijinks, generally consisting of him stealing something shiny, calling himself on it, and leading the guards on a merry chase throughout the busy streets or Orcrest. Others mixed up the order, with him brazenly taking what he wanted, and then leading the guards on the merry chase, or him knocking all local guards out in fierce combat and taking the item without further hassle.

One of these combat images stood out. Dar'shandi stood on the top of one of the sandstone buildings, watching the parade on the grounds below. The mane was being carried in his palanquin. Soon, they would be in the right location for Dar'shandi to make his bold move. He held a small daedric knife in his left hand as he crouched on the rooftop. As soon as the Cathay-Raht carried the palanquin and the divine leader under the building, Dar'shandi caught a glimpse of his target. Without delay, he leapt down from the building onto the palanquin, his sudden impact causing the two Cathay-raht on the left side to collapse to one knee and tilt the entire device. Dar'shandi reacted quickly, using the daedric blade to cut the thin chain of the amulet around the Mane's neck, careful not to cut any of the hairs woven into the Mane, for to do so would be entirely disrespectful to Elsweyr. He clutched the now-loose amulet in his hand and jumped away before the guards could fully react to the situation.

Grabbing a banner, Dar'shandi pulled it off the wall, tearing the cloth off and using the pole as a martial stave as he danced through the enraged security. Because of the significance of the bold heist, all the guards came after him, not just Cathay's, but some Senche's as well. In Elsweyr, not even the roofs were safety from the guards, who were almost as agile as he was, and for the most part better trained. What they lacked though, was his luck. It was a hectic chase, as he made his way to the underside of Orcrest. He managed to deter one guard by pulling the shirt off a random woman in the crowd, a not-unattractive Suthay-raht, and pulled the pink frilly garment over the torso of the hapless Cathay while leaving the woman indecently exposed. Without missing a beat, Dar'shandi gave a cheeky kiss to the thoroughly outraged woman, before darting off again with even more guards on his tail.

After almost an hour of the relentless, often hilarious, sometimes desperate chase, he was down to one of the Mane's finest bodyguards. Previously slowed down by the disorganised mobs of guards trying to bring Dar'shandi to "justice", he quickly caught the renegade khajiit. "[Finally caught you, whelp,]" the guard snarled, grabbing Dar'shandi by the left hand and pulling him off his feet. However, before the Cathay-Raht could finish the thief, Dar'shandi's golden broadsword flashed out of its sheath and swung toward the target. Of course it wasn't his heavily-armored captor, rather, it was the weakest link between the two, and with a snarl-like scream, Dar'shandi dropped to the ground as the guard dumbly looked at the bleeding stump that no longer connected the Ohmes-raht's hand to his body. Stunned, he released the dismembered organ, to be rewarded by a crippling kick to the gut as Dar'shandi grabbed his severed hand and ran off, disappearing into the undercity.

It was almost three hours before Dar'shandi found a healer capable of reattaching the severed hand, but everything could be found in the streets of Orcrest if one knew where to look. In a few days, Dar'shandi's crime had been forgotten by the law of Elsweyr, and he was back to his usual antics, as though the wrist had never been severed

What seemed to be an eternity later, the Mage's finished the anolysis, briefly skimming over the vivid detail of his hyper-active "love life", finding no traces of Dagoth Ur's influence at all, just sugar, fur, skin, and action. Despite the vivid detail of his memory, there were several noticable gaps in his mind, most of them obviously destroyed by the sugar, but others were mysteriously empty, with no explanation at all. "Is Dar'shandi clean?" the khajiit asked at length, when his breath returned and the memory of the pain in his wrist subsided. Though he was completely shameless, the khajiit still did not like how they managed to see him without his shirt several times... never mind it was usually because he was with a woman or two...

Theresa gave a nod "True. Well, only way to do that is go to the mages and have them check. Unfortunately its somewhat invasive of the mind." she spoke up rubbing her head as she felt alittle drained. While Shinva winced as he watched the older white khajiit heal his arm, it did hurt and now he had a bald spot. Such bald spots werent pleasent to have "Thanks S'kragki." he said softly and stood alittle on his own still feeling alittle winded. "Well lets all head inside. after the check pioint"

OOC: Right, guys, main group is moving in before next thread. Second group; Peleus may be able to help you vampire-ridden folks out.

Description of the shelter interior will come next thread, which is coming up soon!

@Scow: I... just... *struggles to mantain irritation, and ends up sighing in defeat* You are impossible, but I guess that's why you're fun to rp with. Mostly. In future- and I say this because I would never have approved your character sheet if I had known all his ridiculous skills, relative immortality, hidden EVERYTHING, beyond what is realistic- DO NOT hide things from me, at least, unless I have made it clear that that's alright. Seriously, Scow, I don't think all this stress is good for my health. Please try and behave.
IC:

The mages left Dar'Shandi looking disturbed and went to the captain. They conferred briefly, before the captain nodded, and said, "You're all clean and good to go. Get inside, while you still can..." He looked up at the red sky doubtfully, and Winna knew what he was thinking; how long could it really be before another blight storm hit?

Winna decided she would take up the rear- afterall, how dangerous could the shelter really be?- and waited for the rest to go, all the while lingering on her dark memories and horrible mark that Ur had left upon her long life.

At least Ren and Dar'Shandi are too young to really know what the world might have been like... she found herself thinking. It was a comforting thought: perhaps that was why she wanted so badly to protect them. If the world was ever cleansed of Ur, it was these that would inherit something that, to them, would look like a whole new world.

------------

Ren went first through the door, relieved that they could at last go. She felt insanely nervous, however, and she was shaking slightly as she passed through the single door, opened by a sentry. She was not shaking out of fear of the shelter, however; no. It was what she was going to have to do, what she was going to have to decide which plagued her.

Renoit Aurelle, the defenseless young bard, the weak link of the group, was going to have to make a decision that would effect the whole world.

And I don't even know how to make decisions about my own life... she thought, deliberately not looking at any of those around her.

Next thread - http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=960748