It was the third hour that he had been waiting in the inn, and he had only drunk two pints. This was partly due to his lack of money, and also partly due to the fact that he did not want to get drunk. He had been wanting to get one of those contracts for a while now, but there was something that was making him hesitate. Maybe because of the reasons why he was doing this, he wasn't so sure of them himself. He was getting older, slower, weaker, but he didn't want to live without experiencing what was inside that city now. It was the sort of youthful exuberance which he hadn't displayed for a long time, and after downing the rest of his drink, he stood from his stool.

He had seen enough people get a contract to know that it was a quick process, they usually came in groups, hell, he'd seen some actually denied for being alone. Best that he say he was with someone, even if it was just to leave them once inside the city. He approached, stepping to the side of the Nord who was already there.

"Hey." He said quietly, barely rising above the rain outside. "I'd like a contract too." His hand came down to his sword and he gave it a pat. "I'm an ex-soldier, and I'm with a group."

"Well friend...I should, um ... return to my table then . I look forward to rending some beast flesh with you!" Came a deep man's voice, but Hides-His-Heart did not even look up at the man. Instead, he snapped his fingers, the action causing small sparks, and signaled the serving wench. She approached, and only then did he turn his head. "This one needs water for his poisons. One glass." He ordered, and then waved the servant off. She looked scared stiff by the idea this grimy, wild Argonian was making poisons.

Stupid soft-skins! Rending some beast flesh with you. What idiocy! Stupid warrior proclamations; the spearmen of the Root could teach them how to charge into battle proper. If anyone could hear the shaman's thoughts, it would be obvious that he was quite racist. And with the reputation of the other races within the marsh, he had every reason to be.

When the man was gone and the woman had returned, Hel'Resquein took the glass and poured naught but a few drips into the pestle. And yet, those few drips met the ground mixture with puffs of smoke, colored a sickly yellow, that rose in small plumes upwards. He continued to grind the mixture, his actions now proceeded by tiny billows of smoke and steam. After a few minutes of grinding he stopped, and grabbed a potion bottle from his pouch. Pouring the concoction in, he gently stirred it in front of his face, watching it, before giving it a sniff. Nodding acceptance, he set the bottle on the table, corked it, and then withdrew more bottles.

Five bottles in total he withdrew from his pouches, and each he inspected the same. A swishing, a sniff, and a nod of satisfaction. These five along with his sixth potion would be what he brought into the town. Two Healing. Magicka. Two poisons. Paralysis. Explosion. Disease Cure. Should suffice. Raising his hand again, a small spark crackled from his scaly fingers. A now shaky serving woman approached. "Hides-His-Heart would like fresh venison. Do not cook it. Also an ear of corn. And the female can take back this water. This one would like the dishwater in a glass." He held out the cup of clean, clear water to the woman, and she eyed it, then eyed the man-lizard, looking paler than before.

"You want... rare meat... and a glass of dishwater?" She asked him desperately, as if hoping he might somehow change his mind and give a sensible order.

"If rare means uncooked, then yes." Hel'Resquein snapped back viciously, causing the serving woman to jump slightly. She hastily took the cup from the shaman, scurrying off to fulfill his order. Stupid warm-blood female. He mulled, shaking his head and returning to taking inventory of his ingredient stock.

Frederic ran through the rain and wind cursing under his breath. He was soaking wet and cold, as he had lost his favorite cloak in the Talos Plaza. He forgot to pick it up off his bench when he rushed outside the city, and when the rain began he went back to get it. When he arrived it was gone, along with the last of his septims. He had been so focused on his idea that he was unable to remember something as simple as picking up his cloak.

"Some investigator you are." he muttered as he ran to the door of the Wawnet Inn, "I would have left my clothes if I wasn't wearing them."

He burst open the door with a grunt and immediately shut the door behind him. The people were staring at the dripping wet newcomer, probabely thinking that he was idiotic for leaving his house without a cloak. In this case they were right, and Fred felt embarassed as he walked by the staring people and headed for the bar. "Got anything for free here?" he asked sheepishly, "I am unfortunately a little short on septims right now."

"I can give you one glass of water, but that's it." the bartender grumbled, obviously not liking the fact that Fred wasn't a paying customer. As the bartender called for a glass of water, Fred took this as his chance to take a look into the crowd. For the most part the people here seemed unextrordinary, but he was determined to find some help. After a minute of scouting he noticed an argonian who seemed to be creating small clouds of steam that rose from his work. The argonian then took out some bottles, inspected them, and began to speak to the waitress, the word 'dishwater' floating into Fred's ears.

"An alchemist probabely." he thought as he looked at the argonian for a few more seconds. He had dealt with a few investigations that involved alchemists, and most of those cases were murders by poison. Alchemists, from his experience anyway, were calculating people who were sometimes obsessed with their dangerous craft. An alchemist would be perfect for his little adventure, but he didn't want to just walk up to the argonian and ask if he wanted to go hunt some monsters. He began scanning the Inn again, hoping to find others that could be useful. He noticed quite a few people crowded around what looked like a desk. A man was sitting there and handing out pieces of parchment to the ones that spoke to him. Fred decided that it deserved looking into.

He walked towards the desk and noticed the piece of parchment above the fire place. He walked up and stood beside the other onlookers and read it's contents. "A contract to explore the city?" he muttered curiously, and he turned back to look at the man at the desk handing out what must be contracts. Frederic walked over to the desk and heard a man call himself an "ex-soldier". There was a breton nearby that looked like he had seen a ghost, which reminded him of the looks on the faces of the ones that were driven mad by the city's powers. Instead of speaking to the one handing out contracts, he walked over to and took a seat near the breton who drank nervously.

"Hello good sir." he said calmly, not wanting to excite the possible mad-man, "My name is Frederic Wolfgang, and I was wondering if you have been in the Imperial city recently. You remind me of some others that came out of the city, and I was wondering; what did you see in there?"

Olwen looked up at the Imperial who was addressing him. He smiled kindly, refusing to take offence at the title of "good sir" where his proper title of address would be "Sir Knight". Of course, in his present condition, huddled in the corner and drinking wine better left to the pigs, he could see how he didn't exactly cut the image of Knight in Shining Armor. His thoughts wandered back then to his little encounter with the.....thing that he had come to face in the Elven Gardens. The featureless face, the bronzed skin, the freakish hands and feet, it all came rushing back. But now, as he sat in the relative safety of the Wawnet Inn, surrounded by folks who, like him, wished to enter that blasted hell that was once the shining Imperial City, he could look at the whole ordeal objectively.

"You wan't to know what I saw?" Olwen asked. It was a rhetorical question. He raised his voice then, "perhaps everyone would like a little tale how the foolish knight was set upon by a beast from nightmare!" Olwen was able to feel the blood rush quickly as he sprung to his feet. "Yes, a creature known to no beast, nor man, nor mer. A creature born from the mutating power of magick itself, just like every other thing that was caught in the initial destruction a few decades ago."

"I know not what this thing may be called, and I can not say whether it is sentient or intelligent. But I can tell you of it's hellish visage and what it does to you if it turns it's gaze upon your mind." Flopping back down into his seat, Olwen grinned, "is this what the Imperial wishes to hear?"

*

Porteus glared at Olwen, unable to hide his dislike. He's scaring away customers! He thought maybe he should interject to say that so far, no evidence of serious mutations had been uncovered by Imperial Authority, and to jump to conclusions would be wrong. He would be lying however. The magick that had flooded out of the Arcane University years back had changed everything it touched. That or killed it.

Seeing the rising crowd, however, Porteus couldn't help the fluttery feeling in his chest as he amended the contract, putting it down in place of number of holders the sign of infinity, symbolizing that as many people could be on the contract as the paper could fit names.

Arcturas glanced over his shoulder as a soaking wet Imperial entered the Inn, dripping all over the floor, as he closed the door behind him. Arcruras looked around the room, watching an Argonian mixing something in a mortar, as it emitted various colored smokes from it, as he ground it down. Arcuras continued watching with mild interest as the Argonian began pouring the liquids into small bottles, corking each of them.

The Argonian finally finished his work, and as he called the barmaid over, Arcturas let his eyes wander around the room, still searching for his opportunity. He notice with some interest as a small group of people began gathering around a man and a table in the corner, as well as near the fireplace. Arcturas examined the people at the table, and some looked like adventurers to him, so he finished his drink with a large gulp, and set the glass down on the counter, as he pushed himself up from his chair.

He walked slowly over to the fireplace first, muttering an apology as he bumped the barmaid. He saw what the group was looking at, and he read the parchment above the fireplace, a smile growing on his face. He had a way into the city now, and he was sure he could find a group of people to go with. He looked over to the table, and guessed this was the agent the paper was written by, so he made his way over to the group, nudging his way politely through the other patrons.

Seeing as the man was free, Arcturas fixed his belt a little, then walked up to the man, stopping in front of the desk. "I see your offering contracts for entering the city." he said in his friendly, boyish voice, an excited smile on his face, his eyes glinting. "What are the requirements for obtaining access to the city?" he asked, not sure if he needed a party or not.

Porteus's heart surged with joy as more and more adventurers asked to be signed onto contract and given a permit to enter the city. Deciding to assert himself as the local Imperial Authority, Porteus amended the contract once more then stood up from his seat to address all those within the Wawnet.

"If it is in your interesting to be signed onto contract and given a permit, then please do line up. I will need your name, profession, and any titles that you may hold. You will be given your permits to enter the city once I have your information."

Porteus looked then at the young Imperial that stood in front of him. "What say we get your name onto this contract first then, my lad."

Arcturas listened as the man made his announcement, then sat back down, addressing Arcturas directly. The young man smiled, and nodded eagerly, showing a bit of his inexperience and immaturity before he remembered his father stalk with him about respect, and he lost his smile, replacing it with a serious look. But he couldn't hide the glint in his eyes as the man asked for his information.

"My name is Arcturas Vandorallen, of Cheydinhal." he said, looking the man in the eye, trying to remain business-like and mature. He wasn't sure about his profession, however, and his face faltered a little, his gaze lowering, as he felt his face go a little red. "I guess I am a swordsman." he said quietly, his face heating up, though it wasn't from the fire. He thought about titles, and he thought of his victory in the Tournament of the River, in Cheydinhal. He was proud of it, but he didn't want to gloat about to the man, but he wanted some respect from the people around him.

"I am the current champion of the Tournament of the River, out of Cheydinhal." he muttered, looking down at the table, rubbing his knuckles along it sheepishly, as his face continued to redden. He wondered what he looked like to the other, more seasoned men behind him, as well as the agent in front of him, and for a moment, he regretted coming up to the man.

As the storm outside continued to rage on, thick curtains of water endlessly crashing into the ground below, Felicity made her way towards the small town of Weye, the darkened sillhouette of the Imperial City just visible on the horizon. Though she had been there several times herself in the past, there was no denying that the Imperial City she had once knew was all but a memory know. The once gem of the Empire was now little more than a shadow of its former glory, with gods only knew what lurking inside. But, she could deal with that later; all she wanted then was to get out of the storm. She sprinted towards the small Wawnet Inn, situated near the edge of the Talos Bridge, and made her way inside.

Immediately, she found herself surprised at just how busy the small inn was. The normally tranquil little tavern was now bustling with people, a great many of them gathering around a man seated at a nearby desk. Maybe he has something to do with what's going on in the city, she mused silently, before making her way to the bar. She looked to the large man standing behind the counter as she took a seat, warily eyeing up the other people in the tavern.

"Grab me a brandy, will ya?" she asked, casually placing a handful of Septims on the counter. "And make sure it's the good stuff." As the bartender grabbed her drink, she took note of the tavern's current occupants. Outside of the people swarming around the desk, she noticed a few other patrons seated about the inn, seemingly enthralled in their own work. She even noticed an Argonian huddled over what looked like a handful of bottles, but what he was actually doing with them was anybody's guess. Damn lizards...who knows what they're up to half the time? she thought quietly with a sceptical look on her face.

"Here's your drink, miss," the bartender muttered, handing Felicity her bottle. She gave a curt nod of thanks, before leaning her back against the counter and taking a full swig of the brandy, cringing slightly as the fiery liquid roiled down into her stomach. Wonder if anybody here actually knows what the hell happened in there?

"Is this what the Imperial wishes to hear?" the so-called-knight exclaimed after he jumped up from his seat, the blood rushing to his face.

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear sir knight." Frederic said as he stood up slowly, "I want to organize a group of people and bring them to hunt this monster. Once that is done I will have someone take an extensive look at it. We may find out a little bit about our situation in the city. I could always use a good knight such as yourself to help me acomplish this goal. Excuse me while I get one of these contracts."

Fred walked over to the desk and pushed the man who called himself the champion of "Tournament of the River" aside. He didn't want to be so rude, but he became very excited and lost the will to wait. He was bristling at the idea of a monster that drove it's enemies mad, and became esstatic at the thought of hunting it. He ignored the yelling of the bartender to come get his water and the complaints of the people behind him, he had to speak to this man now. He leaned in close to the contract-dealer, as he didn't want to attract any more attention then he already had.

"I am Frederic Wolfgang of the Legionnaire Investigators." he said in a hoarse whisper, "I was wondering if I could get one of those contracts right now, as I have a busy night ahead of me. If you do not believe in my position or my organization you can ask your superior officer and they should know about me."

The legion investigators were not meant to be well known in the public, as it would mean interference in missions. Only officers of the legion knew about the organization, and they would usually leave them to work alone. If they needed manpower then than the officers would either come themselves of send only their most trusted men. Any legionnaire that tried to reveal any information to the public would be immediately un-honourably discharged and placed in prison. Even if he was the last one, he would try his best to keep it a secret for as long as he could.

"Alright, Mr. Arcturas Vandorallan of Cheydinhal," Porteus was speaking to himself, "Swordsman and Tourney Champion..." He scribbled down some burecratic words before turning his shrewd face back up to Arcturas. "Alright, Vandorallen, you are now almost sanctioned by Imperial Authority to carry out business within the Imperial City. I will wait for any others who wish to be contracted before I give my stamp of authorization."

Porteus beemed inwardly, another sop bound to his will. And soon others would be doing the same! He knew what he was doing was somewhat wrong, but if he could take advantage of the situation and pad his own pockets, then why not do it?

"Next!" He called out. Another Imperial stepped up, calling himself an Investigator.

"Hmph, well." Turning his attention back to the contract he scribbled down, "Frederic Wolfgang, profession of Investigator, no title." After scribbling down some more words he looked up at the Investigator. "As soon as the contract is full, Sir, I will authorize it and you will be given your permit."

"Next!"

"Next!" cried out the man seated at the desk. With her bottle nearly half empty, Felicity shot a curious glance towards the stranger, taking note of the pieces of parchment he seemed to be scribbling on with each new person in line. Intrigued, she cocked her head towards the barkeep, though her eyes never left the man at the desk.

"Is there something I should know about this guy?" she asked innocently enough, trying to divine for what reason so many people would be gathered around him at once. "Half the damn bar's lined up over there, so unless he's giving out free booze..."

"Not in here, he ain't," the bartender shot back wryly. "Nah, he made some announcement right before you got 'ere. Said somethin' about anybody who wants in the Imperial City needs a permit, or some rot." The barkeep huffed to himself. "Can you believe it? People stupid enough to want into that death trap?"

Felicity shot the bartender a half grin, before setting her drink down on the counter behind her. "Well, I guess that's my cue, then," she replied simply, before getting off her seat, and making her way towards the desk. Without a second thought she bypassed the majority of people already in line, not in the least interested in mulling around like some guar for half an hour. Besides, since she'd gotten there, it seemed that's what a number of people were already doing.

When she finally found herself opposite the man giving out the permits, she gave him a slight nod of greeting. "Name's Felicity Fortuna," she introduced casually, though there was a slight hint of anticipation in her voice. "I hear you're the one letting people into the city?" She gave the man a brash, fiery smile.

"I want in."

Oh the joys of power!

Porteus made sure he had Frederick's information then turned to the lady in front of him. "Of course, citizen. I need your profession and any titles you may hold so that I may add you to the contract."

*

Olwen regarded the entire scene before him with a sardonic gaze. The sheer perversness of Porteus taking obvious pleasure in sending people to their deaths shocked him. But then, of course, Porteus was an Imperial; born to take advantage of people and things.

Not like my people, Olwen thought before turning it back onto the Imperial City. He wanted back in, and it seemed like this joke of a contract was the best way in, and he would be supported by a score of adventurers, maybe even enough to deal with some of the more dangerous creatures that now prowled the deserted streets. His thoughts then moved back to the creature he had seen, that had the power to invade minds. He shuddered at the thought at facing one of those things alone again.

Getting wearily to his feet, Olwen got behind the young woman who was currently signing onto the contract.

Adras sat at the far end of the tavern for the greater part of the day. He chose to make his venture into the city after the rain calmed. Judging by the storm that now raged outside, he made a wise decision. Earlier in the day he spent his time questioning locals to see if they had news of the missing Redoran. They did not, but they all agreed, it was most likely he ventured into the city, and probably died there. The Dunmer's features hardened as he imagined the possibility. The missing Redoran was a House Brother, and a skilled warrior. If he died at the hands of whatever sorts of monsters that Breton had described, then he would have to tread carefully in there.

Now he sat here, waiting for morning, nursing a meal of meats and fruits, and a tankard of sour water. He was often overlooked by the many strange characters passing through this evening, which ended up with a surprising course taken by the clerk. A contract. Perhaps he was lucky that no one saw his scowl that grew upon his face the moment he had heard of it. Any enemy of the Hlaalu knew well to never sign a contract without full knowledge of what it entails. Obviously these people had never been to Morrowind.

It enraged Adras that he would suddenly have to have a permit to enter the city, but breaking laws was not something he came here to do. He stood up, his chair scraping across the wooden floor. He walked towards the clerk, rudely passing by or pushing aside anyone infront of him and spoke, "Let me read this contract of yours." He glared, and made no sign that he would give his name to the man.

"Felicity, Mercenary, no titles." Porteus went over everything, scribbling here and there to make sure she would be included in the contract and obtain a permit.

Porteus looked up at the rather rude dunmer and calmly said, "back of the line, sir."

*

Olwen politely nodded at Felictiy, "I must admit that I stand out like a sore thumb around you folk, but such is the way of the High Born. Ah, but where are my manners," Olwen gave a slight nod of his head, "I am Sir Olwen Thynne, and yes, I do plan on going in....again."

When Olwen was jostled by the dunmer, he couldn't help but feeling offended. But it made some sense, the dunmer weren't known for their respect of authority. But it wasn't just for himself that he felt indignant, it was also the dark elf would dare to step in front of lady as she was conducting business. "Dark Elf," Olwen drawled out, using the western term for the dunmer people, "I have little liking for contracts myself, but that does not give you an excuse to rudely cut in front of this lady as she does business."

Knowing the infernal tempers of the dunmer, Olwen wisely loosened his sword in it's scabbard but otherwise made no move to draw his weapon. He was in essence a man of peace, but churlishness was something that always managed to rankle his socks regardless of who was doing it.

*

Seeing the foolish breton loosening his sword, Porteus quickly acted to divert a brawl. "Good dunmer, if you will kindly go to the back of the line you will be given your chance to go over the contract as you see fit. But it is protocol that each person be served in turn."

"Of course, citizen. I need your profession and any titles you may hold so that I may add you to the contract."

"I'm a mercenary," Felicity explained coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. "A freelancer, if that makes any difference. As far as any titles go, though..." She let out a low huff of amusemant. "Can't say I have any of those." Nor did she care to, frankly. When she thought of individuals who gave any note to titles, it conjured up the image of pompous, self-important noble types, ones with overpriced swords who couldn't hold their own in a real swordfight. Was that the type she was going to have to contend with on this little excursion?

As if responding to her silent questioning, a finely dressed Breton man promptly lined up just behind her. As she waited for the Imperial to finish getting her listed on the contract - a fairly pointless exercise, she felt - she turned to the Breton, and quickly eyed him up. "Wow...with that getup, you look like you should be getting your portrait done, not heading into a battleground," she commented jokingly, a more or less friendly smile breaking out across her features. "Name's Felicity. You planning on signing up for this little adventure, too?"

It was just then that a rather unpleasant Dunmer, far less elaborately dressed than the Breton behind her, pushed his way to the front of the line, and began making demands to see the contract that everybody was supposed to be listed on.

"Hey [censored]," Felicity grumbled to the Elf, tapping on his shoulder as her eyes narrowed slightly. "You mind waiting for half a minute? I'm standing here."

Arcturas nodded with a smile as the man explained the contract slightly, Arcturas listening carefully to him so he didn't miss anything important. He nodded again, but was rather surprised when an Imperial man came rushing up, knocking Arcturas out of the way, striking up a quick, excited conversation with the agent.

Arcturas frowned at the man, his hand resting on his shortsword as the man paid no attention to him. In most situations, he would've said something, at least to bring attention to the excited man that he had been rude. But he didn't want to do anything to loose him his contract, and the man clearly wanted into the city, meaning Arcturas would probably have to deal with him later. He merely stood off to the side, leaning against the wall, watching as more and more people joined the line of people wanting contracts.

One was a fairly good looking Imperial woman, who wore a fair bit of black leather, and had brown hair that she had tied in a ponytail. He watched as she made small talk with a Breton, who was finely dressed and c very neat and clean looking, though he seemed a little troubled. He caught their names as "Felicity" and the Breton as "Sir Olwen Thynne", which sounded very knightly to the Imperial. He watched, with a frown, as a Dunmer pushed his way to the font of the line, interrupting the woman's conversation with the agent, demanding something about the contract, in a very rude voice.

Of course it started a predictable reaction, as the woman insulted the Dunmer, rightfully so, and as the Breton did so as well, and Arcturas noticed as he loosened his blade slightly, obviously expecting a violent reaction from the mer. Arcturas groaned, and placed his hand on the hilt of his shortsword, just in case he was needed to diffuse any situation. Not that he really thought anything would happen, especially when the Imperial agent kept calm, telling the rude Dunmer to wait his turn.

Adras turned, ready to reprimand the woman behind him, but his gaze was further pulled by the Breton behind her.

"Back of the line, sir." The voice, belonging to the clerk, was easily ignored as the Redoran kept his eyes locked on the armed human.

"Human," the Dunmer spoke back, his voice firm despite the situation, "If you knew anything about the power of contracts you would not be so casually standing here, nor I doubt you'd let this woman make such a foolish move." Whilst he spoke, he laid his right hand on the hilt of his own blade, who's scabbard was neatly nestled onto the small of his back, in retaliation on the Breton's preparation of his sword. He did not yet draw it.

Behind him, the clerk spoke again, "Good dunmer, if you will kindly go to the back of the line you will be given your chance to go over the contract as you see fit. But it is protocol that each person be served in turn."

Keeping his eyes locked on the knight, Adras spoke even more loudly, "Served in turn?" He asked of the man behind him, "Trying to get more fools to sign away their pockets to you before the wise man can stop them?" He directed his voice away from the clerk and towards the whole of the tavern, particularly those who have already signed themselves up, "Have any of you the slightest idea what is written on that scrap of paper? You may very well be signing your lives away into lawful slavery!" He let his final words hang in the air for a moment, before raising his chin up. The move further exposed his neck, a personal sign of his that showed a lack of fear of someone, in this case, the knight. He let go of the shortsword, then turned without another word to the knight, and walked away from the line, backs towards his partially eaten meal.

OOC: Holy [Shencorsed], I'm falling behind. At the rate this is moving, I'm open to any suggestions as to how to get my guy killed?

IC:

Standing there was, frankly, to boring for Lurk. He wanted into the city, and he wanted it now. Why must I wait to be let into the damn city? I guess their afraid of looters. Hell, what do they think we're going to do when they let us in, try and keep the damn peace? Civilly remove wreckage? Kill monsters of yore for killings sake? A heroic notion, sure, for heroic people. Not my ilk. Not after walking that road to it's unfulfillable end. Patience at a breaking point, Lurk stepped forward to the man at the desk.

"I'd like in with the first people moving out, could you just write me up a permit? The name's Lurk, profession is Adventurer."

Being rude wasn't exactly his favorite activity to indulge in, but he had liquor in his gut and money on his mind. Pleasantries were the last thing he was going to fret about. Besides, he rationalized, it's not like this shamed-noble deserves my respect.

"And thus the tension was diffused and crisis averted," said Olwen lightly with a smile on his face. He knew that the dunmer was right though, even shared his opinion about Imperial contracts. But he was a follower of the Law, and if the Law wished for him to obtain a permit to enter into the Imperial City legally, then so be it, however little he may like it.

Checking his sword and putting it fully back into it's sheath, Olwen made ready to deal with Porteus who, so many times, had called him fool, oaf, idiot, and worse. But first he would wait for the lady Felicity to finish her business with the shrewd little Imperial who so visibly enjoyed the act of signing people onto the contract.

*

"Well, anyway," Porteus said nervously, "I do believe I have everything needed on the contract for you, Ms. Felicity. So I do believe I must call the next person in line." Seeing that it was Sir Olwen that was next, Porteus quickly said, "unless of course there is something more you wish to discuss?"

OOC: If you want your character dead you can just walk him into the Imperial City or just not post anymore.

OOC: Bah, don't worry about it, Olny. Most RPs move along really quickly in the beginning, with everyone trying to introduce their characters, get them moving along, etc. Once things progress a little, though, they usually calm down.

IC: Felicity watched the Dunmer with a look of anger and contempt as he made his way away from the line, and back to his table. "Lousy skooma eating son of a [censored]," she growled, loudly enough so the Dunmer could hear, if he cared to. Part of her longed to reach for her crossbow, to peg the bastard in the back, right then and there. Mind you, she didn't want to kill him; maybe just shoot him in the leg, or the shoulder. Give him a little something to think about. However, when Porteus, the bureaucrat, spoke up once again, she tore her attention away from the Dunmer, and back to the task at hand.

"I do believe I have everything needed on the contract for you, Ms. Felicity. So I do believe I must call the next person in line. Unless of course there is something more you wish to discuss?"

Felicity turned to the Imperial, and took a calming breath...or at least, what was meant to be calming. "No, I think I'm good," she replied, slightly exasperated, before turning to Olwen, a slight grin forming on her lips. "And you...thanks for defending my honour back there," she said with a tone of good humour, playfully punching the Breton in the arm. "Not that I can't take care of one lone Dunmer. Still, I guess you noble types aren't all bad, after all." With another nod, she casually made her way back to her seat at the counter, and began working once again on her drink.

Warrick had barely sat down and started drinking his brew when a flurry of interested erupted from other patron's in the inn , all of them waiting impatiently to get in line and sign their paper's . "Blimey....have any of these poor sod's got the faintest idea as to what lurks behind them hallowed front gates?" He thought with a clear expression of distaste , somewhat shocked that such a large amount of people would so willingly sign their lives away .

He got up once more , the chair uttering yet another pained creak . He flew his head back and guzzled the remainder of his beer before slamming the empty husk of a bottle back down on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand , making sure to wipe away the white froth that had som embarrasingly become stuck in his beard .

He decided that leaving his halberd leaning against the wall would be a safe move, and also make sure no one stole his table, so he joyfully and goofingly blew it a little kiss before whispering a sweet "I'll be back baby..don't you worry" and plodding into the hurried crowd .

Most of the meeker wannabe-adventures parted out of Warrick's way like mere soft blades of grass as the stoic-looking man made his way through towards the front of the line . He found that he was sill a good three or four places from the front , and took it upon himself to quickly brush of his tunic and wipe his beard as to look presentable....although he never really thought much of appearances .

Olwen's signing onto the contract was rather quick. Porteus was sorely tempted to exclude the knight but he took the safe route and quickly filled out Olwen's information. He then took down the information of the adventurer Lurk, who had also given his information right before Sir Olwen.

The contract was complete, now all it needed was Porteus's signature and the stamp of approval. The contract was short and concise, obviously meant to be more a formality than anything else.

THE CONTRACT OF KILL-SQUAD 7

The bearers of this contract and the permits that it entails are hereby, under decree from Imperial Authority, are given the right of access to the ruins of the Imperial City, given the authorization to enter buildings, and the right to ownership of any items they find within the walls of the ruins. They are also given the right to police the ruins within the confine of Imperial Law. The names of the holders are as followed....

FREDERICK WOLFGANG, Imperial, Male, Investigator
FELICITY FORTUNA, Imperial, Mercenary
ARCTURAS VANDORALLEN, Imperial, Swordsman, TITLE: TOURNEY CHAMPION
LURK, Dunmer, Adventurer
Sir OLWEN THYNNE, Breton, Noble, TITLE: KNIGHT

These individuals are hereby empowered with the above rights and duties given to them in this contract.

PORTEUS PERCIUS

Porteus quickly signed his name at the bottom and then set the contract aside. pushing the chair back, he reached down and retrieved a small box from which he pulled out five pewter amulets and set them on top of the contract. "Will those who had signed on for this particular contract please come forward and claim it and the permits to enter into the Imperial City!" Porteus then scooted his chair back in and waited for three things, for the people on the contract to claim it, for the two argonians and another companion to come and sign onto to theirs, and for other people to obtain their contracts and permits.

OOC: Don't worry, for all those who didn't get onto this contract you get a chance as soon as you post that you wish to get in on one. This contract was completed to advance the story.

The Imperial agent had already begun signing the contract , and Warrick's impatience set in . He had had bad previous experience with him missing out on alot of things due to him not prioritising very well , and had become a impatient and eager man as a result . He wedged his way through the remaining men before standing straight towards the man and doing a slight head-bow to show the needed respect .

"I'm eager to join" he said in a tone that was somewhat pleasant and stood in contrast to the previous actions that he took to get to the front of the line . "I'll sign , and have me one of them there amulet's if you would be so kind . Names Warrick Blorrin's , and Im a freelance adventurer" he said with pride, his chest puffing up with grandeur .

"And me titles "Pork Chop" he added jokingly after .

oops guess i forgot to actually mention that Aric wanted one xD. i guess what he said was more of a statement that he was interested but not wanting the permit. time to change that.

Aric watched as more and more seemed eager to sign up, and from the looks of many, it was a group the Nomadic Nord did not wish to be a part of for long. Nobles, wealthy men, mercenaries, and adventurers.. many seem unaware of the dangers within.. they look like the bunch that will sooner run from these beasts than kill The Nord thought to himself, knowing all too well of the creatures inside, but more importantly knew that the one who took his sister was still alive.. yet from what he had seen the only ones allowed inside the ruined city were men of the law. This thought made his eyes narrow. If they required a name from him he would not use it.

For all he knew the guards were corrupt and awaiting the Hunter to reveal himself.

Picking up his bow, and slinging it over he large shoulder, he walked up to where the others who had not taken a contract were, and looked down at the man who stamped the first group of contracts, hiding the talisman from view, by moving one of his bear pelts over it and part of his chest.

"If this is the only way to enter the ruins, then i have no choice." Aric spoke in his best Cyrodillic accent, one not yet perfected as the roughness of using the words gave it more of a gruff voice, and obviously pointing out the fact he was not a citizen of Cyrodill.

"I am a.. hunter of creatures so to speak, the name you shall refer to me on the permit you write out will be Wolf" Aric continued deciding to use a part of his name instead of it completely. It was the only option he had that would not force him to fight both man and beast within the walls of the ruined city.

OOC: Bloody hell. Now I realise why I don't usually join roleplays so early, they just move so fast

IC: Brotch didn't like being ignored, but with his voice and physical appearance, sometimes it happened. He was pushed aside into the line, and despite already asking to be put on the contract, was forced to wait behind others as they got their names on before him. Although he couldn't deny that it aggravated him, at least this way he was assured to be addressed by the man. He saw the same Nord who had tried to get a contract before asking for one now, and after waiting (OOC: I might not be here to make another post later, not sure) for him to be addressed, also walked forward.

"I am Brotch Vunnis." He told him, trying his best to make sure his voice would be easily heard. "Imperial, Ex-Soldier, no titles held."

Trying not to look impatient (an ability he had mastered while being a soldier), he awaited for his name to be put down on a contract. He wanted to make sure this time.