Name: Fanier

Race: Wood Elf/High Elf mix

Gender: Male

Age: 62 (appears 23-26)

Birthsign: The Lord

Physical description: 6 feet, 2 inches, due to high elf ancestry. 160 pounds, little body fat, average muscle mass. Brown hair, often tied in a short ponytail or let loose in a short, ruffled fashion. Hazel eyes, some stubble around chin and upper lip.

Short Bio: Son of a nobleman in summerset isle, left his family as he grew tired of the noble life. Traveled across Tamriel, and met a beautiful wood elf name Lathora in Cyrodiil. They traveled together, and were married in the Temple of the One. A year later, during a visit to Morrowind, Lathora came infected with Corprus, and eventually became a full fledged corprus beast. Fanier, devastated, took her amulet and left Morrowind. He became a privateer for well-paying customers, sometimes easy jobs like pest-extermination (rats), sometimes doing the dirty work for skooma dealers. Although he sometimes murdered, he never did so unless his employers told him what they did to deserve such a fate. Two years ago he was recruited into the Morag Tong. Fanier never told anyone of his wife.

Weapons: Elven shortsword, 8 silver throwing knives.

Armor/Clothing: White flannel shirt, plain brown pants. Wears a grey overcoat, in which he hides his weapons.

Misc. Items: Always wears his wears his wife's golden amulet, carries a pouch of 60 septims.

Other stuff you should know: Fanier is an expert in close quarters combat, utilizing both short blade and hand-to-hand techniques.

I'll post the IC tomorrow.

Darus had seen someone leave the crowd. There was something furtive about him, but Darus laid it aside at the moment. The smoke was billowing out of the shack. It had smelled good, but the rain had made it wet and heavy. The smoke was lingering at nose height causing him to inhale it frequently. Some of the crowd had left, seemingly disappointed by the fire. What did they expect, the town to set fire? he asked himself. Darus had suddenly become hungry. It was time to eat those breads while they were fresh. He slinked over to a building and leaned up against it. He made sure to get under a ledge so the rain wouldn't get him more wet. He tore the end off the loaf and bit into the bread. It had a crispy crust on the outside and the inside was doughy and slightly chewy. Just the way I like it. Darus thought. He began coughing as he inhaled more smoke. Darus popped open the cork on his flask of water and took a swig of it. If someone is in there, they are going have to come out. And when they do, I'm going to be there, watching. he thought, as he stared intently at the sanctuary and the secret entrance waiting for his victim.

Maguire was flciking through the ratty pages of the courier , half heartedly making himself look like he was occupied , when he saw a figure monitoring the sanctuary from the wall opposite him . A fellow Breton , of whom was chewing bread and drinking water . His gaze seemed fully fixated on the sanctuary . Dark brotherhood? Tong? Legionnare? Or nosey civilian?

It occured to Maguire that the situation was now rather complicated . He bit his lower lip and cursed in frustration , throwing the newspaper on the floor and stroking his raggedy chin stubble . He couldn't focus on two suspects , he would easily loose them in the flurry of the crowd and rain . He would need to do a quick check .

He heaved himself up off his leaning position , letting out an exhasperated gasp , and slunk his way over to the man , of now whom was drinking from his flask . He walked right up into the mans face , grinning at him with rancid teeth . He pointed at himself and said but one word .

"TONG"

If the man was anyone important , he would either acknowledge him or try to take him off to jail . If not...they would dismiss him as some desperate vagrant or something . He stepped back a little and waited for the mans reaction....

OOC: intros are difficult, sometimes you need to invent your own action.

IC:

Dervera was too distracted by Oglind to note the entrance of the Khajiit. Normally she would have swept him out her door with a broom the moment she saw him. But the light playful conversation was more then enough to keep the attention of the lonley publican elsehwere. The somewhat dim light accented the features on each other's face rather well like a realistic dream or a well done painting. "When you're done eating how about a drink in my room?" Dervera grinned at Oglind who maintained his composure. This wasn't the thing he was sent here for but he couldn't act too strangely either. Perhaps she was a dark brotherhood member? That may very well be the case that his cover had already been blown.

"I'd love a drink, but first how about getting my friend a good meal?" He spoke in a bit of a louder tone making sure that the only other person, Ra, could hear. Oglind tapped the stole beside of where he was sitting signalling the old worn out feline to come join him. Dervera didn't seem too pleased and yet again had a bit of a confused look on her face.

"Uhh sure, what will your friend have. What is his name?" She asked tilted her head curiously.

"His name? Well his name is...why don't you come here and introduce yourself? Heh heh heh..." Oglind felt the laughter come off in the same nervous manner as before, though entirely for different reasons. The food in his stomach felt like a stone at the moment, he just hoped the Khajiit would go along or he'd have to go with plan B in order to keep Dervera's suspeciousness calmed. Then again others would make plan B their plan A when it came to that sort of thing.

The crowd lessened giving Velandris an open view of the house. He would stay in this spot untill another or more of his Dark brothers or sisters arrived. He looked down the street to see a breton eating bread and drinking from a flask. He looked familiar. He stopped leaning on the wall to go over and acknowledge if he was a fellow brother, but was stoped when a rather disgusting, breton approached the man. Velandris' hearing focused as he leaned against the wall and turned his ear to the same direction. It was always curiousity that gave him his answers. With luck it also gave him his prey as he hunted. But a word gave him a brief shock and a spark of light fury. The tong here? Does this man have a death wish? Velandris reached his right hand into his robes grabbing his dagger and unsheathing it slightly. But he was reminded of the guard right across of him when his eyes ventured the direction and he brought his hand back to its side. He then sighed with annoyance. "Probably just some skooma highed fool." he whispered to himself. But he kept his watch on the man just in case.

Fanier entered the bar, and quickly scanned the area. In the back corner, there was a group of drunk elven girls, easy to tap for information. Over by the bar, there was an old man drinking a bourbon, and he seemed a little out of it. And then there was the two wasted nords, walking up to him.

"Hey, maaaaaaaannn....." The nord slurred at Fanier. "Whhhaaatt ya dooooin' here in this heeere bar?"

Fanier gave the man a pitiful look. "Go home, get some rest. You've had enough to drink." he advised the drunken nord. The last thing I need is this guy getting in my way.

"Thaaat a threeaat? I gotta mind to... to knock you out right now." The man raised his fists the best he could, wobbling about, on the brink of falling over.

"Hold on a second there," Fanier told him in the friendliest voice possible. The nord lowered his fists. "We're all friends here." The nord nearly collapsed, falling on Fanier's shoulder.
"I'm a not feeelin' too good."
"Alright, alright," he calmly said. "Let's get you to the bathroom to throw up a bit." He motioned for the other nord to come too. "Where's your restroom, ma'am?" he called to the barkeep, who pointed to a hallway to her right.

Fanier helped his new "friends" to the bathroom, and positioned them near the chamber pots. "There you go, let it all out." At that moment he simultaneously grabbed each of their heads and slammed them into the chamber pots. Fanier walked away with his "friends" unconscious on the floor. Problem solved.

Fanier stepped out from the restroom, took a seat at the bar, and ordered a scotch.

Name: Figwit
Age: 21 (Man years)
Race: Bosmer
Gender: Male

Description: Figwit almost manages to see eye-to-eye with a cow. Almost. A shock of fiery hair parts on the left side of his head, swooping forward and to the right. Dark eyes, not blue or indigo or green or amber, cunningly assess everything in sight with a manic certainty. Jutting cheekbones, sharp nose and long, pointy ears proclaim his race. Figwit has a slight body with square shoulders, thin legs and sinewy arms. Figwit speaks in a senseless, high-pitched voice that fluctuates just like his unpredictable character. At turns he can be amiable and friendly wild and threatening. Figwit sometimes speaks in rhymes or recites poems and songs aloud, simply out of habit. He practices juggling and playing instruments to earn money and attention.

Apparel: Figwit wears a flamboyant pair of culottes that are crimson with mauve vertical stripes. He wears tall socks which come up to his knees and have a hard sole on the bottom, effectively making a very tall pair of slippers. They are horizontally-striped red and gold, and come to a long point like stereotypical jester's shoes. He wears a half-torn, patchwork singlet of faded sheepskin and a pair of brown, woven-flax suspenders reach over the singlet and back to hold up his culottes.

Arms: Figwit employs magick as his main weapon, using an intuitive form of folk thaumaturgy and destructive magicks. These spells vary in strength, power and potency, and are controlled by vivid hand gestures on his part. Figwit always carries an array of juggling balls to give credence to his day-job as a juggling busker - wool, silk, glass, stone, bone and others. Some can be used as weapons, but most as for show. In the occasional situation of close combat, knifework with a keen silver dagger has proved efficient in the past, especially for a Bosmer so skilled with his hands.

Background: Figwit was born in southern Valenwood, with exposure to the tribal cultures in the south as well as the regal Altmer culture which was prevalent in the southern cities. Traveling caravans were common place, looking for guides, guards, translators and people generally knowledgeable on Bosmeri custom. Figwit, in his early days, was fascinated by the arrogant yet beautiful styles of the Altmer and, based purely on a juggling and musical skill learned for the purpose, left home and traveled as far as Morrowind with a caravan. By Morrowind, Figwit had advanced in years, as well as talent, and began to settle down, looking for a real place.

Niche in this roleplay: Figwit is a Bosmeri assassin who has joined the Morag Tong on the basis that worshipping Mephala is far more palatable than an untouchable being of greater darkness... as emphasized by the more devout, more cultish Dark Brotherhood, for whom ruthless murder is nothing but an act for the Gods. Figwit is unpredictable. His place in the Tong is unclear. He finds himself in Cyrodiil, sent to look for a particular Tong member, Serosi.

IC:

"Hell my brother" Ticedo said flinching slightly as his knee buckled and he shifted his weight onto the cane. "Have you learned anything, seen anything" he questioned curiously, his mouth in a wide grin. He thought the man looked familiar although he could not place it but that only helped confirm his belief the man was a brother. Anyways if there where any of the arsonists left in the vicinity he wanted to be close to someone to help protect him. He chuckled and stood up straight tapping his cane on the ground to the beat of a tune he was humming.

Name: Telindius Farsight

Race: Dunmer

Gender: Male

Age: 128

Birthsign: The Thief

Physical description: Telindius is a tall Dunmer at six feet tall, with a look of a warrior about him. His body is muscular for one of his race but he moves with a fluid grace. His body is covered in a range of scars of various shapes and sizes, reminders of nearly a century as a mercenary and assassin. His eyes are a piercing red colour which, if you should meet his gaze, would appear to look right into your soul. His long black hair is tied back in a ponytail. Winding tattoo's cover his arms, torso, legs and face in dark red patterns.

Short Bio: Telindius was born and raised in Morrowind on the isle of Vvardenfell. He left home at an early age to become a wandering mercenary and since then has never looked back. He has fought in many wars and skirmishes throughout his life and so has managed to gain a fine collection of scars as well as masterful skill with his weapons of choice. After fighting one battle too many for his employer at the time, Telindius was marked for death by the Morag Tong. However, after defeating several assassins sent against him, he was instead asked to join them instead of being killed. The wise opportunist that he is, Telindius accepted. Since then he has spent two decades silently and efficiently killing people in the empire for the Tong and improving his skills along the way.

Weapons: Two ebony wakizashi’s enchanted with speed, kept on a simple leather belt around his hips. Each wakizashi is sheathed in a scabbard of ebony etched in silver with runes. A recurved ebony short bow is slung over his back. Six ebony daggers are kept on him at all time, one in each of his boots, one tied to the inside of each wrist, and two sheathed on his belt behind his wakizashi’s and hidden by his cloak. Among his many weapons is his skill with magic. He has an extensive knowledge of illusion, as well as some knowledge in alteration and destruction. Whilst he never uses magic as a primary weapon, he does use it to augment his fighting and stealth skills.

Armor/Clothing: Fine and tight fitting ebony mail covers his torso, with pauldron plates attached to the shoulders. Under his chain mail is a tough leather shirt, padded to help stop blows to the torso, and to keep his armour from rubbing. Ebony bracers etched with silver are tied to each wrist, each concealing one of his knives. Tough black leather trousers cover his legs, with ebony greaves attached to his thighs and knee high black leather boots protect his lower legs. He wears a dark black cloak of Morrowind spidersilk with a hood, which hides his body, face and weapons from view.

Misc. Items: He wears several pouches on his belt, in which are kept seven throwing stars, some black resin goggles, enough iron rations to last a week, and fifty gold pieces. Also hung on his belt is a full waterskin. Tied across his back is a quiver, containing twenty ebony arrows tipped in silver.

There were only two other people besides himself in the inn. The inn-keeper and a familiar face, Oglind; though he was pleased to see Oglind he would have much rather found Serosi. Upon the word 'friend' Ra's head snapped over to the two, he turned his head so hard in fact that he swayed to the side slightly. With his eyes squinted, trying to focus on the stool that Oglind patted, he made his way over to him and the woman. Rather than gracefully sitting on the stool, he stumbled his last few steps, and happened to land in it instead.

The very strong smell of alcohol eminated from the Khajiit, and behind that something that smelled a little sweet, if not bitter as well; moonsugar. Despite this very serious situation, Ra's face was very content, almost as if he were having a splendid dream while still being awake.

"You do not know who I am, hmm?" Ra'virr looked first at the inn-keeper then at Oglind, swaying slightly. He puffed up his chest a little and exclaimed, "The great Ro'Zhir, is what you may call me. And I love of a good shepards pie." The latter was said with a toothy grin. Right now it was impossible to tell who to trust in this town outside of the Morag Tong members, which was the reason for a fake name.

OOC: The fact that it's almost midnight here doesn't help much either ^^

Cheydinhal

Through the cobbled streets a noble looking horse and rider rode through up to the crowd flanked by two other guards on either side. The crowd stared in awe as many recognized the man to be one of Count Indarys' top advisors. He held up a signed letter and began speaking in a rather magificent voice. "By order of the Count, the guards are to return to their barracks, the populace to their homes. Refusal to do such will earn violators three years in prison!" The agitated horse expressed the emotion in the advisor as it circled around. The rider himself kept his determined eyes upon the crowed.

Parthia smiled to herself. This had meant that someone had already bribed or black mailed the count. The Brotherhood had quite an influence amongst some of the nobility either out of fear or out of use. She wouldn't be surprised if half of Tamriel wasn't being kept in place by the fear and use that the Dark Brotherhood were known for. Royalty, politicians and even spouses sometimes maintained their position only through the use of this fear. And so the crowd began to leave, some in groups some alone. Parthia herself made it to one of the benches on which she sat quietly minding her own business. Her small unimposing figure coupled with the blandess of her attire made her completely possible to miss. And now she would wait for her chance to enter the Sanctuary. How many had been killed? Perhaps if there were any attackers they would wait inside? The Sanctuary itself had too much stone...

Meanwhile...

"Yes of course the great Ro'Zhir. Please ma'am bring him some shepherds pie." He couldn't help but feel that he had the most stupid smile on his face. He really wasn't cut out to blend in in this manner. Perhaps relying on his one ability has made him retard in the more conventional sense. As the Dunmer woman left, Oglind's face turned in stark contrast to a more serious manner. His voice dropped to a whisper as if the walls themselves may be full fledged members of the accursed dark brotherhood.

"I came as soon as I was told what had happened. What do you think the chances of him leaving during the night are?"

OOC: I'm almost 1 AM here so i'm in strict competition of lack of creativity with you and winning quite well i'd say.

The sudden notice and withdrawal of the townsfolk caused stressed for Maguire . He had just gone up to a man and quite possibly of blown his cover , and now as he turned to see the man on the horse reading , he saw that the old man he had been watching earlier was talking to someone as well!

"Ive gone and buggered this up" The thought rang in his head like a massive bell being struck , causing him to massage his forehead in stress . "Dont blow your cover maguire....keep it together"

He needed a new plan , and standing here waiting for this man to make a move wasn't going to help anyone . He turned back to him and spat on the ground before turning around and walking into the crowd .

He would wait for everyone to leave , and he would find the old man , and he would interogate him . He was dead certain he knew something , and he was determined to find it out .

He slunk behind the man , his cloak pulled firmly over his body , his hood pulled tightly over his head . He stood...waiting . Waiting for the man to make his move .

Telindius' eyes snapped open as he awoke. He remained still for a moment as he scanned his surroundings. Once sure that he was alone he got up, making his way slowly to the edge of the roof he had slept on. Noticing the plume of smoke from a street nearby, he quickly reached out with his mind and drew magic from within his body, wrapping it around himself so that he appeared indistinct and blurry, then continuing until he almost totally faded from sight altogether. He set out running and jumping across the rooftops, making sure to crouch as he did so, so that any people that were magically inclined would not pierce his illusion if they happened to look up. Soon he reached the street with the smoking house and stopped, crouching on the edge of a roof as he observed the people in the street.

The smell of smoke was strong on the wind as he sniffed the air. The fire that had burnt the building had been strong and he was surprised that the entire street hadn't gone up in flames. Still, it was not a time to wonder about what may have happened, it was a time to observe, some thing he did well. Even as he settled down to watch, he saw a bosmer come out from an alley near the house. He was about to drop down to the street to question the Bosmer when he saw a man with a paper approach another who was sat down and drinking from a flask. As soon as the word 'Tong' was uttered, Tel's eyes bore into the back of the brute who had said the word, cursing his brazen use of the guilds name. This idiot might quickly get himself hung if a guard heard him, and even as the brute said the word, the nearby Bosmer moved a hand inside his robe, perhaps to pull a weapon, but seemed to think better of it and removed his hand again. Tel merely watched, curious as to what might happen, as he kept his eyes on all three people that commanded his attention, waiting for something to happen.

Acheron made his way to an inn, the Newlands Lodge as it was called. The noble on the horse had told everyone to leave and return to their homes, the guards to the barracks. It seems we've done it again. Indarys is terrified for his life and he knows who to listen to. Smart man. Acheron thought, noticing a familiar looking Bosmer standing not too far away.

"You! Sithis is the..." Acheron said, moving slowly towards the Bosmer and tensing his muscles up. He knew the elf was no threat but he had to take precautions. He was wearing a brown cloak, obviously hiding his weapons underneath and his body build was like any normal Wood Elf.

Ra continued to sway as Oglind spoke to the inn-keeper. As soon as she left though the swaying slowly began to decrease. "I came as soon as I heard too. Left a contract in Vos just to get here." The Khajiit spoke quietly as well. The odds of somone listening in were low, but they weren't non-existent; so it was better to be safe than sorry.

Ra gave a quick glance at the door that the inn-keeper walked through before continuing, "I'd say the chances are high. Though I would bet my right arm that he is still in Cheydinhaal right now. Probably in a tavern or inn, at least, that is where I would b-." An echoing voice outside the lodge made Ra stop talking. Both of his ears twitched towards the door, trying to better pick up what someone was shouting outside. Something about the guards going back to the barracks and everyone to go back to their homes. Ra's tail twitched a little at the tip as the wheels in his mind began turning.

This was going to make things easier the Tong members to find Serosi; but it was going to help the Brotherhood as well and doubt that they were searching for Serosi this very moment as well. "It would probably be best if we continued our search for him." Ra was hesitent to even use Serosi's name, despite the fact that he and Oglind were alone. "What other places might he be?"

Drynos Dramorae stumbled out of the Bridge Inn and shouted a good bye to the regulars inside. His smile turned to a grimace as his true self was shown.

"All that smiley, laughy banter does my head in sometimes!" he thought to himself as he lingered towards the Abandoned House. He took one last swig of his Surulie's Finest Wine he had purchased from the Newlands Lodge and stuffed it back into his dungeree pocket.. He past the Fighters Guild and snarled as the billowing banners that fluttered in the night.

He got to the Abandoned House to find a multitude of residents out of their beds watching the house as it spluttered smoke.

"What the hell happened here?" he looked for an answer...

"Anywhere really." Oglind closed his eyes for a moment thinking. "The shops would be closed but the Inns would be open quite late. There is also the Chapel of Arkay and a handful of hotels through out the city as well as just outside the walls. I suppose a good question would be, what do you know of him?" His last words were hushed more so.

"Here you go." Dervera smiled as she placed the pie and fork infront of Ra. Oglind's face also changed to the more polite version as he leaned forward toward her.

"Would you mind letting us catch up a bit? We need to discuss something a bit private, it's about his kid" Each lie in the life of the assassin is like coming up for air. For without them how could one survive? Everything was a lie, the quiet step, the hidden dagger, its poison, what we say, what we do. The only truth was death, and some even say that itself is a lie also. Dervera bowed slightly and left the two alone.


Dark Brotherhood: Meet in the undercroft of the Arkay Chapel and meet your brothers and sisters.

Parthia slowly stood up from her bench and began heading just west to the Chapel of Arkay, of a man made god through his faith. He always found Arkay to be one of the more interesting of the gods. She wasn't sure what she believed but it was at the very least a good story. The undercroft was used to store the bodies of the dead for a number of years. Only the nobility remained there at length. It had been designated as an emergency meeting place if anything should happen.

As she pushed open the big heavy door she gave a quick glance around to cover her back. It was very possible the Morag Tong had even this information and they were waiting to execute whoever would arrive here. Inside with the exception of a two monks praying there was no one else. They paid her no attention and even if they wanted to she could easily slip away stealthly. Parthia seemed to glide on air she moved so quietly as she neared the steps to the undercroft. She left her full weight on her back leg as the toes on her opposite reached for the next step, then when firmly in place she shifted her weight. She continued the pattern until she had passed the clergy dormitory and came upon the door of of the undercroft.

Parthia took a big nervous breath wondering if death was just on the other side and pushed open the next door as well. Inside the undercroft was lit by torches. Against the walls were carved out spots for the stone coffins of lesser nobles while smaller hallways branched out for the higher nobility. Parthia then did what she knew to do best and made herself hidden awaiting either friend or foe.

Acheron then quickly remembered that if anything were to happen to the sanctuary, the Chapel of Arkay Undercroft was to be the meeting place. He looked at the Bosmer and said, "Nevermind, Elf!" He strode off eastward, towards the chapel.

He crossed the bridge and glided through the graveyard, being sure not to step on any graves; it was a strange superstition of his. He sauntered up the steps and pushed the great doors open. The priests eyed him suspiciously, but he put his hands together and bowed to them, setting the priests at ease.

Acheron moved down the steps very quietly, due to the pads on the bottom of his feet. He creaked the door to the Undercroft open and shut it as soon as his entire body entered the room. Acheron the Only walked to a column in the center of the room, where the light was the brightest and where a small grate laid under his feet. He closed his eyes and began to wait, thinking of who attacked the sanctuary and why they did it.

"Nothing, my brother." said the wood elf "I suppose we should head to Undercroft of the Chapel of Arkay." Minegoth slowly walked out to the road as a messenger rode by. Minegoth used his Beast's Tounge ability and took control of the horse. It bucked abruptly and threw it's rider. The man hit the ground with a groan. Under Minegoth's command, the horse walked over to the man and bucked once more, landing on his skull. There was a satisfying crunch as it collapsed into his brain. The horse then walked over to Minegoth and grunted. Minegoth hopped up onto it's saddle. "Do you have some form of transportation, my brother, or would you like myself to transport you there?" The buzz of a kill was still fresh in his mind, and he reveled in it, loving the feeling of taking the life of another. He had never even suspected that his horse would turn on him, and be his undoing. Minegoth's high after a kill was one of the reasons he enjoyed being a member of the Dark Brotherhood...

Parthia remained hidden in her spot, her bow ready with an arrow in place. All she had to do was draw and shoot.

"What is the color of night?" Her femenine but dark voice echoed through the hall. She did her best to sound as scary as she could but Parthia would always sound in a more attractive tone then scary. If the answer was wrong, a simple pluck would end the man's life she hoped. There was too much stone here as well to express her abilities. But the only exit was blocked by him. A terryfing thought came across her mind as she considered the possibility that this was the one who destroyed the Sanctuary. Perhaps it was a cleansing? Was she the only one left? But why...?

IC: Velandris couldn't stand waiting any longer. This is foolish we wouldn't group out here its too risky. He stood away from the wall and began to the chapel. They needed to be descrete with a meeting if it came to it. So the chapel undercroft made the most sence to join up there. He slapped his forhead with annoyance. What was I Think, I know the brotherhood better! He crossed the bridge and took a turn leading him to the chappel Doors. He entered calmly and when he entered he walked to the smal wall where the stairs lead under. He looked for anyone before climbed over and fell to the bottom and opening the undercroft door. He qsilently closed the door and turned his head to find another man Waiting.

He walked forward cautiously and purely announced Himself. "What is the color of night?" He came to the closest pilar to the doors and sat down against it giving his legs rest after the long day.

OOC: You guys beat me I fal asleep at about 12 xD

Ra was about to speak when his ears twitched toward the door the inn-keeper had gone through a moment ago. He bowed his head as she sat the plate in front of him and kept it bowed until she left; how he hated these situations. Though his head never turned, his ears continued to follow her until he was certain she was out of ear-shot, once she was they twitched back to Oglind.

He shook his head, grabbing the fork and taking a bite of the shepards pie in front of him as he did so. "I don't know much about him beyond his name, face, and rumors. Nothing that would give me even a guess where he would be hiding..." At this there was a moments pause to let him chew and think. What a bad situation this was. Ra was a little disappointed that someone from the Tong would act like this. Regardless of Serosi's behavior he was still a member of the Tong and as such was as good as a son to Ra.

"I don't think he would be in the temple, though it wouldn't hurt for someone to go check just incase... What other inns are there?" Ra asked glancing again at the door of the inn, as if expecting the Brotherhood to suddenly jump through it. After a moment of staring at the door he took another large bite out of the shepards pie.

OOC: heres my character sheet, and where are we at?
Race: Dark Elf

Age: 29

Birthsign: Apprentice

Physical description: tall, dark-skinned, red eyes, dark long natural hair, average muscular,

Short Bio: born in Morrowind and raised in Saddith Mara, Douglas was adopted into House Telvanni and reached only the second rank, he later quit the House and worked in Ebonheart when he had enough money to travel there, he worked as a dock worker and the Duke's guard and was very skilled in combining his sword with his magic.

Weapons: Steel Spear, Steel short sword

Armor/Clothing: Duke's Guard cuirass, Steel armor, Dark blue pants, white shirt, brown shoes

Misc. Items: map of the province, key to Ebonheart castle, pouch of gold, bag of wine.

OOC: following ic post coming soon.

Cheydinhal

Newlands Lodge

"To be honest I don't know the city too well. What i've said were the more popular sights. Do you know if any other Foresters have been sent to Cheydinhal or is it just us? I've met Serosi before, and I don't know what exactly to do just between us two." Oglind's last sentence seemed rather dark. He lifted up a mug of water to his mouth and drank consdering the possibilities. He thought over the letter that he had recieved, to return Serosi alive unless he resisted. Unless he resisted then what?

He placed the mug back down and spoke again. "My ability will be fairly useless against Serosi. Not with those eyes. Perhaps it would be better that after finding him we simply follow and see the Dark Brotherhood burn up like moths drawn to a candle. If we find the Dark Brotherhood, they'll find Serosi sooner or later. They have greater numbers so it will be easier for them." Oglind turned to Ra with a grin expressing the rather entertaining idea. The hatred between Morag Tong and Dark Brotherhood we rooted in the latter's conception. It seemed like a rather attractive deal all together. Who would be there to stop them?

Fanier took another sip of scotch before looking behind him. The group of elf girls were looking at him, giggling. The brunette one motioned for him to come over. Here we go, he thought he stood up, picked up his scotch, and walked to the back corner where the girls, quite drunk, were waiting.

"Heeeaay," the blonde one slurred. I'm Shawna. This is Katie," she pointed to the brunette. "and Misirlou," again she pointed toward the blonde. Fanier sat down between Katie and Misirlou.

"So," Katie asked. "What brings ya here to Cheydinhal?"
"I'm, uh," Fanier thought of how vaguely he could answer the question. "I'm looking for someone."
"Well," Misirlou flung her arm around Fanier. "Maybe we could help you with that. What's he look like?

Fanier thought for a bit. "He's a Dark Elf, a little shorter than me." Fanier hesitated in giving them his name. They won't remember anything in the morning, anyway. He lowered his voice. "Goes by the name of Serosi."

"Ooh, oooh!" Shawna exclaimed. "I saw him, he was here about an hour ago. I didn't here his name, but he was a dark elf, and he was about that tall."
"Do you know where he went?"
"Oh, no, I don't. He left without saying. I'm sorry."

He's probably still in Cheydinhal, he wouldn't dare try to leave with the orders for everyone to stay indoors. "Barkeep!" Fanier called. "Bring these ladies another round, on me." He turned his attention toward the girls. "I however, must be going."

"Oh, come on, you can't stay?" Katie asked, and the others joined in pleading with him to stay.
"I'm sorry, really. If I'm ever back in town I'll look you up." With that, his stood up, paid the bartender, and left.