ooc: Wouldn't the stab to the torso be a more pressing concern than retrieiving a staff?

ic:By this point as the others had gone into the fight Karzon had slit the throat of the captive elf and thrown him forward into a soldier who was occupied with trying to nail somebody with a sword. Picking up the fallen warhammer Karzon ducked an incomming elf with ease and swung the oddly delicate weapon up and between his legs, knackering the elf which let out a massive shrill scream as he went down on his knees. Which then was followed through wih the hammer comming up and collecting him under the chin with enough force to snap his neck backwards in a rather messy and uncermonious manner.

He was more concentrating on the fighting and getting out alive than anyone else at this point and so with the expected animalistic grace and dexterity that Karzon had possessed he took up a fallen elven sword and with dagger in hand dove into the battle, sliding on his knees between the two spell casting elves with both the elven sword and his ebon dagger slicing at their knees which was followed up with a coup-de grace as both weapons were impaled into their chests as they went down. The battle was winding down to nothing, though most would be exhausted from such a fight with what they had been fed and put through. They needed the energy for the long trip to the City. He stood up, looking around panting slightly and flicked off his hood and rubbing his forehead while dropping the elven blade.

Lycus Desselius and Illana the Huntress.
10th of Second Seed, 4E 174.
Fort Homestead-Cyrodiil.

Lycus landed hard, hitting a smoky and empty air that was before him. At first, he thought it was magic the Thalmor used to teleport himself, but as the seconds passed, he saw the same soldier dead nearby a wall, his armor and skin burnt as the ground which led to his direction was. Lycus looked at Varth, the man who had taken his kill, but also had helped him. He nodded slightly, acknowledging the man with respect. He deserved that much.

As he did it, he failed to see the Thalmor run behind him with an elven axe ready to sever his head. But Fithavael came to his aid and dispatched the Thalmor using a maneuver he had seen before. Lycus was grateful for the aid of this man, even if he didn't know him that much. He supposed they where all allies now, not simply prisoners using each other for escape.

"More Thalmor dogs, sent to the afterlife!" Lycus rejoiced. But he noticed people gathering their material possessions, and struck it best to get whatever items he could from the fort. He knew he would have to leave some behind, but the things that mattered to him, he would have to retrieve them. He followed the Orc from a good distance, avoiding any bloodshed at the time for the sake of his belongings.

He entered the sparsely lit room as saw the Pariah-Man hold a staff in his hands. All seemed well until he noticed the Orc was wounded, but Kraven could do nothing as he did not own any health potions or magical abilities to heal others. He rushed to the chest which sat near a large table. He began to search the chest and table frantically for whatever belonged to him; A lupine amulet, an intricate hunting combat knife and a spear, All of which he could carry with ease. He tied the knife to his side using the straps found atop the table, and placed the relic around his neck while discarding the elven sword in exchange for his spear.

Illana came into the room, running toward Lycus and beside him to gather whatever items she could. She saw various personal belongings that where not hers; leather gear, Orcish longsword, a knife which seemed almost identical to a kitchen knife where it not for the design and a few alchemical ingredients here and there. But what captured her attention and pleased her was the armor that sat on the table. It was flanked by black boots and spiked gauntlets. She recognized the tribal insignia on the shoulder-pads, telling everyone that it belonged to her. It seemed the Altmer just dressed it for show and placed it all back. He's not fit to wear this, she thought. A silver and black steel helmet lay aside, without the sharp wings at the side. She snatched it, starting to dress herself up amidst the battle.

"Leave it alone, Illana."

She ignored his voice, placing the modified cuirass over her neck. Followed by the rest. Sounds of battle echoed throughout.

"You would dress up?" Lycus stressed. "In such time?"

Illana growled. "Grab hold of your manhood! Cup them if you will, but I need whatever belongs to me. You know how important that is."

"More important than our lives?" He argued.

"The same measure." she said with simplicity.

By then, the battle was dying down, but the chase was not yet set in motion. Illana thought it best to bless the group, or at least herself, with a distraction. She closed her eyes, setting her hands wide into opposite directions, her hands acting as if they cupped water from a stream. Summoned from the wildest parts of Oblivion came. Not through the mundane use of magic, but by the energies within her very being. By channeling her focus and energies, she brought to the mortal realm two savage beasts plucked from one of the Outer Realm; A phantom wolf, painted in a malevolent crimson light, mouth arrayed with fearsome teeth. Body strong and able, the specter flew into the fray, leaping upon an unsuspecting mage by striking at the back of his neck. The other creature was a lupine animal, yet it was made not of Spirit, but of bone and stripped flesh. The deathly canine stared the entire room with red eyes before it growled and lunged at the rest of the Aldmeri agents with a fearsome pounce.

Illana tilted her head, regarding her brother in an serious gesture, a expression of disappointment on her face. He recognized the saying at: Why doubt me when I've got this sorted out? He watched as she sheathed the knife to her boots, and prepared herself for the escape. All now was left was to kill the remaining Thalmor and escape. One step closer to abide by the plan.

Fort Homestead, Cyrodiil - 10^th of Second Seed, 4E 174

Faendal twisted his dagger in the Altmer's stomach, grinning at the dying elf's shocked expression. 'No one ever expects to die.' His thoughts were remote, separate from the ferocious beast that controlled his body. A sadistic grin spread across his gaunt face, yet his black eyes stayed cold. Blood stained his hands a deep crimson, but he could not stop. The battle had just begun. 'It will not be my blood today...'

The others had charged in with him, their ferocity taking the Altmer by surprise. In short order the ragtag band of prisoners had dropped most of the Thalmor guards, Faendal personally executing two and assisting with a third. He almost felt proud of them. It felt just like being in his old squadron. The only difference was the color of the blood. 'Altmer have such bright blood,' he thought, looking down at the elf he had just killed. His breathing was shallow, his chest burned, but the battle rush was upon him. He was back! 'And damn it feels good.'

Faendal looked around, searching for a target, another life to take. He was almost disappointed when he realized the fight was over. 'Too soon,' he thought, checking his companions for wounds. They had made short work of their enemy, but the Altmer did not go down easily. At least one of their number, the orc, was nursing a wound in his chest, but the rest appeared to have suffered minor injuries. 'Nobody dead. Yet.'

"Well well," the Bosmer chuckled. He tried to laugh, but all that came out was a scratched cough. "That takes care of that, now doesn't it. Good work." He turned his gaze back towards the door, where the less militant of their party had remained, hiding. "You can't depend on us the whole time," he said bluntly, wiping blood from his face. "It only gets harder from here."

Faendal glanced around the edges of the room, searching for another way out. One had to exist. Even the Thalmor weren't stupid enough not to have a back door. "Pick up what you need and get ready. We move again as soon as we can." He stepped towards the Khajiit with a thin smile. He nodded to the cat slightly, gesturing him over with a gnarled hand. "Khajiit, you scouted ahead, where's our best exit?"


OOC: Short, blunt post to keep things moving. Everyone needs to finish up with their combat posts and collect what gear they will. We'll be moving again as soon as everyone is ready.

Illana the Huntress and Lycus Desselius.
10th of Second Seed, 4E 174.
Fort Homestead-Cyrodiil.


The fight was over in the fort, at last. The last of the two wolves vanished as it tugged at the entrails of one of the fallen Thalmor soldiers. Illana leaned on the wall, partially injured from the battle. A large wound on her sides and stomach area. She closed her eyes in pain and slowly began to heal herself with the power of "The Hunter's Wind". Slowly, but eventually, her wounds began to close, her bruises began to vanish from her beaten face. And in a few minutes, she was a new, fresh individual, ready for the next challenge of the escape; the chase.

"Well well," the wood elf managed to chuckled. Then coughed. "That takes care of that, now doesn't it. Good work." He turned his gaze back towards the door, where stood the ones who shyed away from combat "You can't depend on us the whole time. It only gets harder from here."

Illana's lip raised slightly in annoyance as she eyed the less battle-oriented group, or as she called them, the combat-challenged ones. They're still alive? She asked herself silently as she locked the spiked gauntlets onto her wrist and arm. If she would run, it had to be quick and fast. She knew she could run with light armor, after all, it was not as larger and time consuming as the heavier sets. She placed on the helmet around her head, twisting it as it came down below her chin. The steel helmet was colored with grey and black, a welcome addition considering it was night and they would have to blend in to escape.

"I say we ditch the useless ones. If they can keep up, fine. But the way I see it, they're just dead weight."

Lycus worked on his gear, which wasn't as much as he had before he was captured. He equipped a simple knife and a spear with him. The rest of the time he searched the bodies for anything useful; potions, scrolls, the like. He could sell the scrolls for some coin, if they survived this whole ordeal in the first place. He overheard Illana speaking and shook his head slightly, with a sly smile on his face. Ever the pessimistic one.

He overheard the bosmer ask the khajiit on the best exit. He walked near them, kneeling down to search another dead Thalmor. Their armor and craftsmanship obviously gave a vague understanding of their wealth as a culture. If they are strong enough to threaten the Empire, then they are a forced to be reckoned with. He sighed as he glared at the bloodied face of the dead High Elf. Working for them could of yield a pocket full of septims, but diving into buisness with the Thalmor was never a good idea.

"Pity they are anti-human supremacists. They seem to have all the coin in the world."

West of Fort Homestead

Errialor

WIthout warning, Errialor heard shouting, near the fort. What? What is going on over there?

"The prisoners have escaped! The prisoners have escaped!" shouted a mage, using magic to amplify his voice. Soldiers and mages rose up and gathered at the fort. Errialor began to walk towards them, but was stopped by an approaching wizard.

"You! Did you see anything?" the mage angrily asked.

"No, ma'm, nothing. They must have escaped another way."

"Yes," the mage replied, in a more calm voice. "Our life detection spells show that they did not escape through the exit, but retreated further into the fort. We don't know if they can overpower our mer already within, but regardless, they're trapped. However, I've detected another life sign, north of the fort. It may be a prisoner, or worse, an Imperial scout. Get over there and find out who. If it isn't one of ours, kill them."

Errialor nodded. "Yes ma'm." He drew his sword and began to walk to the north. He didn't have any magic spells, and his armor gleamed even in moonlight, so he'd have to be careful.

All those prisoners, escaping right after I left? Pretty lucky that they pulled me out of there.

Karzon looked around quickly before looking back to the elf whom had spoken to him "Yeah, there's an escape route just behind me." he said motioning to the trapdoor "Leads down to a cavern that in turn heads to the edge of the Rumare. We should be able to get out that way." he said before turning and heading to the very trap door, stopping by a body of an Altmer and taking his bow and quiver of arrows. Slinging it on he headed back to the trap door and heaved it open and peered down it "Yup, can smell the air down here." he said before dropping down into the dark cave. A few bats seemed to occupy it for the most part with a few unlit torches and lanterns scattered about.

Tyranus Florentius

Ty emerged from the hallway, surveying the damage his fellow prisoners had inflicted. He was starting to become numb to all the violence and death around him. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing, but he did know it made his life easier for this escape. He had been clutching the dagger close to his chest, expecting an Altmer to round the corner and attack him, but he had thankfully been spared. He didn't want to have to use the dagger anymore than fight a Thalmor soldier in general.

He watched intently as the Khajjit opened up the trapdoor, their ticket out of there. Tyranus fought against his doubts. What if the cave was a dead end? What if there were more down there? What if they escaped and a whole Thalmor scouting party was waiting at the exit? He pushed such thoughts away, instead focusing on his actions in the here and now.

"So, who goes next into the black chasm of hope?" he asked, looking around the group. "Preferably someone who isn't gonna get his ass kicked once he gets down there, so I'm kind of ruled out as an option already. Tyranus would definitely spend some time learning to fight better as soon as he got out. 'If we even get out of here...'

The Colovian wished he could fight as well as the rest of the group, but he was still too inexperienced. They had all had adventures and battles before, and their abilities showed that. Tyranus couldn't even come close. It was frustrating, but he supposed there was nothing he could do about it now.

Varthlokkur, Fort Homestead Depths, Cyrodiil

Varth unlatched the lid of another worn chest, quickly and systematically rummaging through the contents. Not mine, he thought as his hands left the unfamiliar contents of the chest, and began unlatching the lid of another. Inside were a few wax sealed vials of suspicious looking liquids, a large pack, a set of black robes, a black cloak, an Orcish Dagger, and most importantly, a worn, leather bound book. Excellent.

The Dunmer gathered up his belongings, shouldering his pack and place the items inside, and sheathing the dagger on his belt. He used extra caution to see that his spell book was placed safely in the pack before exiting the room. Varth saw the others crowding around a trap door that led to dark pit, presumably the sea cave that led out of the fort.

“So, who goes next into the black chasm of hope?” asked the young Colovian. “Preferably someone who isn't gonna get his ass kicked once he gets down there, so I'm kind of ruled out as an option already.”

“I will” said Varth as he strode towards the hole in the floor. They made room for him, and he climbed down the rickety ladder and leapt onto the cavern’s floor. Pain lanced up through his body, bringing his attention to how worn and battered he was. I will need to get some rest after this for sure.

The cave was dark, but the quick focusing of Magicka and an Illusion spell quickly made the darkness just another defeated foe. The Dunmer’s night-eye pierced the Darkness, bringing the Khajit Karzon into view, as well as a menagerie of various clutter. The smell of salt water and the sound of the breaking tide brought his attention further down the tunnel, to the mouth of the cavern. Freedom.

“It’s all clear” said Varth up to the other prisoners. He didn’t say it too loudly, just in case his voice would carry and somehow be heard by the guards outside.

Illana the Huntress and Lycus Desselius.
10th of Second Seed, 4E 174.
Fort Homestead-Cyrodiil.

Illana crossed her arms at the chest as she watched Tyranus with a expressionless gaze concealed by a helmet. The fearful look on his face made her barely smile. The blond-haired youth clutched a dagger near his chest as if it were a holy relic made to keep away horrors and malevolent spirits. He looked around, expecting an enemy. She could feel he was less tense as he noticed all of the foes were dead. She leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed tousle-headed colovian youth asked the group if they were to go into the "black chasm of hope". Humorous one, isn't he? She asked herself. I wonder, when death knocks at the door and threatens to pull him through, what sort of jest will he make out of it?

The shaggy Dunmer with the summoning powers spoke out first, walking toward the trapdoor as everyone moved away. He eventually climbed down, descending the ladder until he jumped off. The small thud echoing throughout. He shouted at the group above with an almost near-silent annoucement. Illana was the third to go, following Varth into the darkness below. She marched her way to the trapdoor, immedietly climbing down with effiency, jumping to the bottom in a louder thud than he did due to her armor. She could smell the salt water fill her nostrils, causing her to smile behind the visor. Yes, free at last. She looked up to see if Lycus was the next to come down.

Lycus simply stood by as the Khajiit, the Dunmer and his sister went through the trapdoor to the dark cavern below. He prepared his hunting gear and looked around to see if any of the prisoners lived, he was glad in a way, to find out they all survived. He was in the corner, watching everyone gather around the only escape route. What captured his interest this time was now a young woman, nor a creature to kill, but the adolescent who called himself Tyranus Florentius, or "Ty" as for short. He was colovian and otherwise had the apperance of a hunter. Undoubtedly, Colovia was known for such things. If Ty was a hunter as Lycus predicted, then he deserved at least some recognition. And a fellow hunter, even if mundane, was enough to have earned his attention. But what made Lycus curious about Ty was his lack of confidence in battle, or at least the nescessary skills. A simple dagger would do him little to no good. The idea was to escape, yes, but how could a dagger fare against the shields and hammers of the Dominion?

The tip of his eyebrow raised over his brightly hazel eyes. He walked over to Tyranus, holding a spear over his shoulder. "A small dagger is pale comparison to the swords, shields and axes of the Thalmor. It would be wise to equip yourself with the weapons left behind by the fallen. If then, the odds against you would surely shrivel."

Fort Homestead, Cyrodiil - 10^th of Second Seed, 4E 174

Faendal nodded to the Khajiit, standing with his bloodied arms across his chest as the cat stepped over to the trap door. The Bosmer didn't like the idea of pressing forward with no information, but there was no way to know where the tunnel would end up. He tried to map out the fort in his mind, to at least determine the direction, but he hadn't been paying enough attention to the twisting stairs and damp passageways. They would be running blind, at least until they left the tunnel. 'And the gods only know what'll be waiting for us there.'

The old soldier glanced around, making sure everyone was readying for the next leg of their escape. Two had already disappeared through the trap door- the Khajiit ranger and Dunmer summoner- and most of the rest were gathering weapons. 'Not a bad idea,' Faendal thought, searching for something sharp of his own. After a few moments he spied an Altmer archer, his head lolling back in a pool of his own blood, with a short sword at his waist. 'Fool never even drew his weapon.' The Bosmer stepped over to the fallen elf, dropping to a crouch to take the soldier's sword. After checking to make sure the blade met his needs he stood back up, leaving the sheath on the Altmer's belt.

Turning back to the exit, Faendal noted that most of the company was ready and waiting. Some glanced uncertainly into the pit, others made short conversation. A few looked towards him. 'You wanted to lead, idiot. Now take responsibility and get em all out alive.'

"Alright, that's enough time wasted. If those damn Altmer have a shred of sense between them they'll have realized we aren't dead yet, and they'll be sending another patrol down to block our exit. Our only hope is to beat em there, take out whatever sentries they've posted, and run like hell to the nearest Imperial." Faendal marched past the group, keeping his new sword by his waist. "And this time, I don't care who you are, everyone fights. If you can't kill, you'll only slow us down." With that the Bosmer stepped up to the edge of the trap door, glancing down before stepping off into the black. He fell past the ladder, then landed lightly on the hard earth below, keeping his sword out to his side. A few of the others had already started off ahead; without wasting any time, the old Bosmer set off to join them.

'Damn I hate caves.'

From the fires of Aldmeris to the Shadowy embrace of Nocturnal.. Whispered Karzon as he watched others drop into the cave with him. His natural night eye had kicked in, far superior to most magical forms of it as it didn't rely on ones aptitude with magic. He walked ahead "Keep up, keep silent and No torches. You will be seen before you see anything and will blind those of us with strong night vision." the darkened kashiit said as he crept through the cave, acting as the leader through this. Noone else seemed to be really doing anything and that wood elf had seemed to take a disdain for his leadership with an Iron fist. "Hope noone is afraid of the dark." he grinned to himself, the cave was littered with the occasional glowing mushroom common in the swampy areas and cavernous places in Morrowind, Black marsh and around the Niben. As it thrived in such places and was rather useful in Water breathing potions or in some cases Water walking.


The cave was pretty straight forward however as the group made its way through, the sounds of frogs, crickets and various other water borne insects could be heard as well as the sound of water. They were close, of course he figured they'd not have to put up with any scouts this far out.

Tyranus Florentius

Ty sighed, glancing behind him before sticking the dagger in his belt. 'Couldn't the path to salvation be paved with flowers instead of leading through a creepy cave? The young man sighed again as he pondered, looking down the opening but having a hard time seeing the bottom. As he looked around the room, he noticed the huntress looking his way. He couldn't be sure since she was wearing a helmet, but he was sure she was looking right at him. "Sorry, I should have tortured more small animals in my childhood, I'd be better equip to deal with this situation." He said, a vaguely agitated look on his face. Ty wasn't even 18 yet, and here he was expected to be able to kill a trained soldier. The concept aggravated him a little, especially since he was one of the youngest people there.

He noticed that another Imperial, the huntress's brother was now approaching him. Ty hoped he wasn't about to jump to his sister's defense; he feared what would happen when his mouth wouldn't cease. "A small dagger is pale comparison to the swords, shields and axes of the Thalmor. It would be wise to equip yourself with the weapons left behind by the fallen. If then, the odds against you would surely shrivel."

"Yeah, well, it was all I could really find at the time." he started, shrugging and looking at the dagger in his belt. A sudden realization dawned upon him, and he looked up quickly "Wait, I had some other weapons with me, hold on a moment." Tyranus started looking into the equipment chests, looking for his own items. His eyes scanned the tops of chests, already opened by his fellow prisoners. Eventually, a familiar strap caught his eye. Smiling, the Colovian made his way over to the chest, pulling out piece of his leather hunting armor and holding it up. "Good to have something more than cloth to protect my important areas." he said to Lycus over his shoulder. He sat on a crate nearby, and started strapping his armor on over his clothes.

After a brief delay, Florentius stood, fully outfitted in a hunter's leather armor. He flipped his quiver around his shoulder, securing it to himself, and attached the scabbard of his blade to his belt. After picking up his bow and slamming the chest shut, Tyranus was back to his pre-capture armament. He ventured over to another dead Thalmor, prying a shield away from him, hiding his disgust. He looked back to Lycus, spreading his arms as if asking, "How's this?"

Lycus Desselius. 10th of Second Seed, 4E 174.
Fort Homestead-Cyrodiil

Ty shrugged at his response an held out the dagger. Then with a few extra words, he soon realized he had more items at his disposal. He went to the chest, fumbling for his belongings with a smile across his face. Lycus walked behind him, only to stand on the side, leaning himself against the wall. He stared with neutral eyes as the young colovian searched for his gear, pulling a leather armor from the box and holding it up so that Lycus could see. So, he is a hunter after all, Lycus thought.

"Good to have something more than cloth to protect my important areas." Tyranus told him. Without much words following, he began to strap on the attire over his body, encasing himself in armor and preparing himself just as the others did. He sat on the crate, using the time to get ready. The Imperial hunter simply watched in amusemant as the adolescent placed his sword in his scabbard.

"You can be protected by your trappings, yet even armor has limitations." Lycus made sure to notify him as Ty placed a quiver over his back and knelt down to pick up a shield from a dead Thalmor.

"How's this?" Ty had asked him.

Lycus heard him, but did not comply right away. Instead he leaned down to pick up the quivers from the fallen Thalmor, pulling away the elven arrows and sticking them in a single quiver. Perfectionism was a trait that a truly skilled archer would require. And Ty struck Lycus as a hunter, one who used the bow. He checked the arrows for their quality. Inspecting them for straightness, due to the fact that an arrow with smallest amount of flaw would falter to fly true or fail to injure as it deserved. After discarding the useless ones, he stood up and handed Ty the quiver. After he did, he stared at his armor from head to toe with a studious glare. He nodded slightly, pointing the tip of his spear at his entire torso from top to bottom.

"Armor made of leather grants you quite a blessing of protection. Even from afar, arrows of low trajectory will fail to penetrate deeply. You hold an advantage. Just be sure to pray to your gods that the rest of the Thalmor lack proper aim."

The silver spear touched Ty gently on the shoulder, then fell to the elven shield that held in his hands. The Imperial offered the other a faint smile. "Your shoulders are well-built, strenghtening your arm, thus positively affecting the shield. I am no expert, but I do hold a grasp of sort. Yet it can slow you down as escape. I decided to leave mine behind for the sake of being light on my feet. If we survive this, perhaps one day we can spar together. I can show you a few tricks I possess. A gesture of good will, for a fellow Imperial and hunter."

Lycus tapped him on the shoulder before turning his back on Ty, lowering part of his fur armor beneath the waist. With an exhale of air through his nostrils, he began to urinate near one of the corpses laying in a corner. Though not directly on him. Glancing over his shoulder as he released his bodily fluid, he spoke in a deep voice to Ty.

"You strike me as a man who desires to fight, but passed on the privilage given. Have you never wished to join the Fighter's Guild or fight for the Imperial Legion?"

It was a question to pass the time. Soon, after he finished urinating, he would be sure to leave with the others. He just felt he needed a bit of comfort to aid in his distant run to the Imperial City.

Illana the Huntress. 10th of Second Seed, 4E 174.
Fort Homestead-Cyrodiil


Illana's eyes adjusted to her liking. Her vision increasing and shifting as the darkness increased and her form was consumed in the cave's shadow. She crept up behind Karzon, the Cathay-Raht.

"Keep up, keep silent and no torches. You will be seen before you see anything and will blind those of us with strong night vision." He told everyone. You state the obvious, Illana thought. She whispered to Karzon as they traversed over the mushrooms and mud, spooking various aquatic insects and amphibians. She looked behind her and saw few members of the team following behind. Hopefully Lycus will make it here in time before we leave, she sighed. He's either urinating or talking to that lass again. Or something else unimportant. She looked at the oddly furred khajiit, walking beside the feline as they continued on. From what she saw, he was quiet, cold and calculating. Something she admired in anyone. And if he shared similar mind as her, then perhaps everything would be to their advantage. The survivor's advantage. She understood that whomever sticks to the plan, deserved to move forward. The rest who fumble and falter, those who waste time, get left behind.

She chewed on a small piece of wood, which almost resembled a toothpick. "You know what? I say it would be easier for us all who are faster to speed up. I say we ditch the others and lock them in here. For all we know, they might attract unwanted attention by the Thalmor if they gather in numbers."

She chewed on the toothpick before spitting it out, her lip curling up in annoyance. "Or we can use them as bait, have them killed while we escape to the Imperial City. The way I see it, they're useless. Dead anyways. The Breton girl, that Imperial broad, the colovian kid and that old Orc. Lock em up and leave them to rot, or create a diversion and use them. What do you think?"

Fithvael Hlaalu-Rikkahvanskyrr, Fort Homestead Dungeon Storeroom


Fithvael quickly followed as the rest of the group began to gather the equipment taken from them. Watching everyone don their personal affects, Fithvael began to truly realize some of the pasts these men and women must have had. Searching frantically for the correct chest, Fithvael finally came upon one that had yet to be looted. Drawing Astherion, in one swing Fithvael cracked off the chain to the chest, pushing it open with his bare foot. Fithvael sighed in relief, and smiled as he reached into the chest. First he threw on his padded surcoat, bearing the colors and emblem of Arvaanskyr.

Next was the thick ring-mail hauberk, with thick leather patches sewn into it, hanging down to his shins. Then came his vambraces, greaves, and shoes; all made of thick leather and finely decorated. A Galloglaiche should look his best in battle, and in death. Sheathing Astherion he followed the small group down to the entrance of a dark tunnel, obviously their only route of escape. While the other were rather hesitant, a few had gone in already, Fithvael noticed the two Imperial twins speaking to another man, 'Tyranus' was the name Fithvael caught.

The old Mer-mutt walked over to the entrance, or hole rather, that led down to their escape path. "Well, if ya'll want tah leave, I suggest we get goin' then, eh?" With these last words, Fithvael jumped down the dark cavernous hole. He landed with legs bent and drew his gleaming Nordic-Elvish bastard sword. He whispered to it, in a paternal tone, and when he finished the filigree on the blade began to glow a light-blue. "Now tha's better." Fithvael, still slightly crouched, continued down the tunnel.

These Thalmor... bested by prisoners. Guess they didn't know who they were screwin' with? Fithvael thought as a smile crept over his painted face.

OOC: By far not my best post, but I HAD to get something in to at least keep us all (well, me more than anything) moving.

Tyranus Florentius

Ty took the quiver from Lycus, looking it over. He unstrapped his own quiver and replaced it with the new one, deciding to take advantage of the wisdom of a more experienced warrior while he was getting it. He had to admit, these new arrows were in much better condition than the ones that had been left over in his quiver, and he would feel a lot better about shooting these than those twigs. "I should be a bit more useful now that I have a bow, any fool with aim can kill with a single good shot." he said, checking his bow string, ensuring everything was in working order. He had some training with a sword, but he was much more experienced with the bow.

"Armor made of leather grants you quite a blessing of protection. Even from afar, arrows of low trajectory will fail to penetrate deeply. You hold an advantage. Just be sure to pray to your gods that the rest of the Thalmor lack proper aim."

Tyranus nodded, rolling his shoulders and getting reacquainted with the feeling of being armored. It was familiar to him, but he had been held prisoner for a good while. His chest was a dull ache underneath the chest piece, and his eye was swollen, but luckily he still had full visibility. He didn't want to be rendered even more useless by being blind in one eye. "I think the Nine have better things to do than make sure an arrow doesn't skewer little old me," the Colovian said, smirking a bit "There's a war on, and I'm sure everybody out there is praying to somebody, and I'm even more sure that nothing is coming out of most of those prayers." Ty was raised devout, but he had never prayed much. He felt that any Divines that cared enough would know his belief, and maybe even appreciate his lack of annoying favors. It was a cynical view, but he felt his interpretation was much more realistic than some others. "[censored], or is it the Eight? Wouldn't want some Justicar coming after me, now would I?" He chuckled softly as he looked at the bodies around him.

The Imperial felt Lycus tap him on the shoulder with his spear, and he looked up. "Your shoulders are well-built, strenghtening your arm, thus positively affecting the shield. I am no expert, but I do hold a grasp of sort. Yet it can slow you down as escape. I decided to leave mine behind for the sake of being light on my feet. If we survive this, perhaps one day we can spar together. I can show you a few tricks I possess. A gesture of good will, for a fellow Imperial and hunter." Lycus said this with a slight smile, and Ty was sure that a little smile was a lot from this man.

"Well, you know, farming tends to build up the upper body, but I've yet to take advantage of it." Ty said, one brow lowered cynically. Lycus tapped him on the shoulder once again and walked away. Or not, as he promptly started relieving himself on the ground. 'Talos, I'm sure that could have waited for a bit longer.' The farm boy thought, averting his eyes as Lycus finished his business.

"You strike me as a man who desires to fight, but passed on the privilage given. Have you never wished to join the Fighter's Guild or fight for the Imperial Legion?" Ty heard Lycus say, but the accompanied sound of streaming liquid told him the hunter wasn't quite done yet, so Tyranus refrained from turning around.

"Well, I wanted to join the Legion for a long time," he started, shifting his footing and crossing his arms as he examined a wall intently. "But I met a girl, and I decided that there were more important things than running off to fulfill some dream of adventure." Ty's thoughts drifted back to the girl he loved, a smile crossing his face as he thought of home. Her sweet smell, her soft embrace, the melody of her laugh. Returning to her was the single thing that had kept the young man going this whole time, and that feeling was now kindled in his briast once again. His eyes settled on the orange ribbon around his wrist, and he clenched his fist. He would not die without seeing her again. If he knew anything, it was that.

Lycus Desselius. 10th of Second Seed, 4E 174.
Fort Homestead-Cyrodiil


Lycus blinked twice as the colovian said he was skilled with the bow. He was a hunter, so it was no surpirse. Any man with a bow could learn a thing or two in no time. But for any mastery, it takes time. He was sure, as a farmer, that Ty was skilled enough to use it.

"Well, you know, farming tends to build up the upper body, but I've yet to take advantage of it."

Good, Lycus thought. It is always wise to take one thing and use it for another. Unlike the most adventurous folks there, he could relate to Ty in a way. Simple boy raised near a farm, learning to hunt and living a simple and less extravagant life. Even the simplest style of living could mold and shape a man in the greatest of ways. He understood that, and by the looks of it, if Ty survived this he too would learn it. H

"I think the Nine have better things to do than make sure an arrow doesn't skewer little old me. There's a war on, and I'm sure everybody out there is praying to somebody, and I'm even more sure that nothing is coming out of most of those prayers. [censored], or is it the Eight? Wouldn't want some Justicar coming after me, now would I?" Chuckled the man as he glanced around the carnage.

Lycus shook his head, pointing to the colovians lower regions. It did not take a genius to figure what exactly he was pointing at.

"The [censored] on you." Lycus mused, nearly chuckling. "To question and challenge the will of your gods."

Following the release of natural stress and also bodily waste, he wrapped the fur garment around his parts and had them well protected. He continued to listen to Ty as he did it. Now his ears fully attentive to the story he gave or the excuse as to why he refused to join the Legion and why he forsook a chance of adventure. A girl, the reason was. He left it all for a woman. Lycus regarded him with a guarded curiosity, studying him profoundly as Tyranus' eyes fell upon a ribbon he had tied to his wrist. It must of belonged to her, Lycus presumed. He found it amusing how he wanted to stay with a woman in place of running after an adventure, yet now he would be running for his life.

Lycus scoffed, trying the hunting knife to his belt. "And you love her?"

It was a ridiculous inquiry, Lycus came to realize a second after the question left from his mouth. Obviously, he does, he refused a life of glory for her. Or maybe because he wanted a wet thigh to warm him and his bed. To rectify his brief stupidity, he added. "Of course you do, I can see the smile on your lips. The tensing of the wrist. The hope of love set aflame in your eyes."

The young Imperial inhaled deeply, as he leaned on the pillar. He stared at the ground. Thoughts of his past rising up from the darkest depths of his mind. His father, his mother, a loving couple. Both gone after many decades of adventure. Yet their words of wisdom still echoes in his life, and in a way, they still live through him. He looked at Ty, pushing himself off of the wall.

"My father always told me that women can soften a man if he allows such," Lycus lowered his gaze, trying to remember the words. "They can also be the companion you never had. Both in person and in distance. Affecting your actions. Dwelling in your thoughts. They are the fire that burns within the briast that will never extinguish even in the afterlife."

He walked away from Ty, getting ready to depart once and for all. He expected the other Imperial to follow, so he slowed himself down a bit. "You may not have found adventure for her sake, but adventure has found you. And through that, you might find yourself fighting for her. Most often, we find ourselves under the whim of an inescapable destiny."

He did not want to sound too philosophical, so he wandered off without much words toward the ladder that led descended into the caves. He was sure, perhaps in the near future, they would spar together. Friends, as Illana put it, is something that can hold a person back. But Lycus saw benefits on loyalty and trust, and even a partnership of alliance. Most would call such a thing friendship. I hope to one day settle down, find love, grow crops and raise children. But I am far removed. Thought the long-haired warrior and hunter as he stepped down onto the dark cave, following Fithvael.

Waylas

Waylas starred down at the soldier beneath him. He had had no weapon on him when he escaped and he ended up having to kill the soldier with his bear hands. Luckily years of bar fights had payed off as he wrapped his arm around the soldiers neck and strangled him to death. The man had never even seen it coming, and now he laid face down in a puddle beneath the redguards feet.

"Now then let's see what we have here" Waylas muttered to himself as he kneeled down and began to peel the soldiers armor off. "Ah, these clothes here will do nicely." Waylas then pulled the clothes off the soldier and used them to replace the old prison rags he had been wearing for several months now. It was nice to be in a nice fresh set of clothes that didn't smell of soured milk. Waylas then picked up the iron sword that laid next to the dead soldiers body, and walked over to join up with the rest of the group as they jumped down the trapdoor.

"Well now" Waylas said as entered the cave and looked around. "This ceartinly looks like a much safer route. I mean just look at it! All dark and scary, and you can barely see what's 10 feet in front of you!", Waylas sarcastically exclaimed.

Karzon looked over at those who dropped down, followed by a Redguard whom made a sarcastic responce "Harden up princess." he stated flatly and began to slowly trek through the darkness. "Hold hands if you need to. A few of us can see in the dark, if need be watch the mushrooms along the walls. They grow along walls and crevaces. Use them as guides." he said and continued through the cve.

Tyranus Florentius


"The [censored] on you." Lycus said, pointing towards Ty's groin "To question and challenge the will of your gods."

Tyranus laughed, shaking his head. "It's not so much a ballsy thing as a personal faith thing." He said, shrugging yet again. 'Stop shrugging so much, you look like your dancing.' He scolded himself, stopping mid-shrug. "I just believe that the Nine are aware of me as is, and making prayers isn't going to change anything they might do in my favor, or anyone elses'." Lycus covered himself, and Ty looked back around again as he finished his story about wanting to join the Legion.

The hunter made a noise of disbelief as he tied a large knife to his belt. "And you love her?" Ty looked up quickly at Lycus, surprised he would ask. The young Colovian had always been told he acted like a love sick puppy when it came to his beloved, and people rarely had to ask him such a question. Maybe it spoke to his change in situation, but Ty wasn't sure if he liked it. "Of course you do, I can see the smile on your lips. The tensing of the wrist. The hope of love set aflame in your eyes."

Ty grinned and shook his head. That sounded familiar to the young man. "We'll I've never heard it put like that before, but it sounds a lot better." Lycus was leaning against a pillar, his eyes pointed at the floor. Ty couldn't read exactly what he was thinking, but he figured it was something about his life before being taken prisoner. Other than that, he couldn't much tell.

"My father always told me that women can soften a man if he allows such, they can also be the companion you never had. Both in person and in distance. Affecting your actions. Dwelling in your thoughts. They are the fire that burns within the briast that will never extinguish even in the afterlife." Lycus said, his face lowering even further before he started walking away. "You may not have found adventure for her sake, but adventure has found you. And through that, you might find yourself fighting for her. Most often, we find ourselves under the whim of an inescapable destiny."

Florentius found himself smiling and nodding slightly. He liked what Lycus was saying, it really made him feel better about the entire situation. His father was a wise man, and obviously had been very much in love with someone. "The thought of her has kept be going this far, I see no reason why it would lose any use to me now." Ty responded as he followed behind Lycus, preparing to join the others in the cavern. "At least now I can tell people I got my share of adventure in before I settle down. Good stories for the little ones too, eventually."

As Lycus went down the ladder, Ty followed after him, emboldened by their conversation. Regardless of his skill level, sticking with Lycus would probably work out better for Tyranus. However, he would be worried about burdening the superior warrior with his less-capable presence.

Fort Homestead Tunnel, Cyrodiil - 10^th of Second Seed, 4E 174


Faendal ignored the conversation behind him, making his way through the cramped tunnel with a purposeful stride. His freshly acquired sword was held out before him, reflecting the strange phosphorescence of the mushrooms. The damp air grew colder as he hurried forward, the cave's musty stench giving way to the salty breeze of the Rumare. Up ahead he could just barely make out the tunnel's exit, soft moonlight breaking through the darkness of the cave. 'Almost there. After this it's a straight shot to Weye. The hardest part should be over.'

The grizzled Breton glanced over his shoulder, making sure his company was still behind him. Most were following just a few steps behind, their hands tight around their weapons. "We're almost through," Faendal croaked, careful not to alert any guards at the exit, "Be ready. Take out the guards, then run to the west. Follow close."

The Bosmer did not wait for the others to reply. He knew they were ready. For the first time since they'd set off on this insane plan, he actually felt confident. What he had thought were beaten down prisoners had actually turned into a formidable fighting force. Despite all the challenges yet to come, Faendal was beginning to believe that they really could do it. His freedom, and his revenge, were both within reach. All that was left was to take them.

The old soldier stopped, signaling the others with a raised hand. They were only a few yards from the exit. Voices, elven voices, were talking quietly just outside.

"Why did they even send us down here? No one is going to attack a cave in the middle of the night."

"You know what the commander said: we can't take any chances. If anything goes wrong now, the whole invasion will be compromised. The Thalmor have spent too much time planning this attack to let something slip now."

Faendal raised his gnarled hand again, his heart already racing. His other hand tightened around his short sword. 'Not yet...'

"Bah, those Imperial dogs won't know what hit them. The city will be ours before next nightfall. This time tomorrow, I'll be lying on a nobleman's bed. Maybe if I'm lucky his wife will still be there!"

'Now!' Faendal's hand chopped forward, signaling the attack. The lithe elf rushed forward, into the clear air of the night, his sword already flashing.


End of Part One: Escape


OOC: Alright, well, it wasn't really a timeskip, but it at least got us out of that tunnel. I'll post the sign up thread soon with the actual timeskip, including a summary of our escape. Until the next RP starts, however, feel free to have a little fun killing the Altmer outside the cave. I know I said it's the end, but if you really want to post something you can. So, finish up whatever you need to in this thread, because the next is going to start before this time next week.

Waylas

Waylas ignored the insulting comment from the Khajiit and followed the Bosmer as they began to make their way outside the cave. "We're almost through. Be ready. Take out the guards, then run to the west. Follow close.", the Bosmer said as they began to approach the faint glint of moonlight that illuminated the exit.

The Bosmer then raised his hand to signal them to stop as they were only a few feet from the exit. Waylas suddenly heard the voices of elves coming from outside the cave and quickly crouched down to avoid being seen.

"Why did they even send us down here? No one is going to attack a cave in the middle of the night."

"You know what the commander said: we can't take any chances. If anything goes wrong now, the whole invasion will be compromised. The Thalmor have spent too much time planning this attack to let something slip now."

Waylas then looked back to the rest of the group as they hid from the guards outside. "Y'all stay here", Waylas whispered. "I'm going to try and take one of these bastards from behind." Waylas then began to slowly move into position behind one of the Thalmor guards, hugging the cave wall as he approached them. As he exited the cave, he took position behind a large bush that sat next to one of the guards. He quietly hid behind the bush and waited for the Bosmer to give signal to strike.

The Bosmer then raised his hand once again getting ready to signal the attack.

"Bah, those Imperial dogs won't know what hit them. The city will be ours before next nightfall. This time tomorrow, I'll be lying on a nobleman's bed. Maybe if I'm lucky his wife will still be there!"

Suddenly the Bosmers hand fell signaling them to attack and he rushed in to attack. Waylas then jumped out from behind the bushes and grabbed the Thalmor scum from behind. He then took his sword and slit the elves throat. The elf then stumbled for a bit as he wrapped his hands around his throat while blood squirted out from his slit. He then turned around and Waylas saw nothing but surprise in the Thalmors face. The guard gurgled as if he was attempting to say something but only blood squirted out of his neck as he fell to the ground.