OOC: Perhaps my emissary isn't an emissary after all Atomic your character doesn't know this, no he isn't going to die...

Everyone meet William

Daenia

"Very well then. We will discuss this tomorrow, at noon."

The Breton exited through the old wooden door, taking one last grimy look at the count. Guards escorted him to first guest room, which was on the second floor of the castle. The castle was quite creepy, but it wouldn't scare someone like William. The room was mostly stone, with a lone, tall window sticking out on the opposite side from the door entrance. The room was square, and had dull paintings, with reddish-brownish frames. The furniture was old wood, but the bed featured nice linens.

William now took off his long, thick sweater which he wore beneath his cloak. It now revealed what he truly was. Had he been sent to kill the count? No he had not, but he had come prepared. However, no one knew what William really was. He had fed recently, and it had not been exposed. The count had not been able to tell, and he would not be able too. William had the capability of acquiring information.

The Breton walked over to the door, locking it, rigging it in such a way to where it could not be opened or broken through unless by fire, or some strong log thrown by 7 men. He had even bound it with magic.

If the so called vampires from the city would come, then they would come. The count thought the vampires where Williams enemy. Perhaps they weren't his best friends, but they were certainly not his enemy. What everyone thought, happened to be the exact opposite. The count knew so little about the emissary, and so did the guards. If the vampires came through the window that night, they would not harm William. In fact, they may very well communicate with him. Perhaps William was of a vampire clan after all...

King Idhdea listened to the plan and was divided; part of him realized the plan was on the border of madness yet the other half saw the opportunity to deal with several birds with one stone. He glanced to where General Bovkinna was leaning forward in his seat clinging to every word he just wants to kill someone he chuckled to himself.

"With help from the dominion it's possible" the general explained as though he had been reading his lord's mind. How he did that Arnan had never figured out but over his long career his friend had always known what to say. Though he reads people all the time he restrained himself from laughing and disrupting the speaker, he usually just kills them instead of finishing their sentence .

By the time the emissary finished he could see both his scribe and general in awe of the plan. He remained calm and collected but even he was impressed by the daring of the plan, it was well timed, well planned and just might work.

He rose slowly as he collected his thoughts and thought about the decision that would liberate or destroy his country.
"Well I see you have a great deal of passion for your cause" he paused and took a deep breath, "I find myself in an interesting position, I may throw myself, my army and my people behind your idealistic goal or I may remain here and survive in the status quo" he took a moment to think.

"Yet I can't help but think that if our shared dream of liberty is to be reached now is the time to strike back against our tyrants" he took a small breath, "that is why you may count on the full support of Camlorn, its military, and of course its ruler".

He took a quill and a small container full of was from the desk of his scribe,
"Now I assume you want my signature in some form, that's how these meetings always seem to end".

Camlorn

"This meeting is not at an end. It does not end until we are free from the reign of Elysana."

Saxon looked back at the general, eying him with a serious look.

"Elysana will not dare attack us, and if she does, we will be ready. I feel though, through our spy information, that Dwynnen has sided with Elysana. We must eliminate that threat first and foremost."

Saxon looked back at the king.

"You must come with me down to Illessan, where we may gather the rulers of each city, and arrive at Daggerfall. We must all take this to the Lordship of Daggerfall. The dominion allies may possibly be there by then. You must come, so that we may meet together."

The emissary nodded to the officials in the room.

"Elysana is weak. It is only now that we can turn away. Let us go to Daggerfall."

Martel stood on the north road outside of Bhoriane, one hundred paces from the northern gate, where the bandits claimed they would charge the city. He stood with just shy of twenty men at his flank. The bandits were not standing down, and the city guard refused to help Martel and his men until the battle reached the walls. The Knights of the Horns agreed before they stepped outside the doors of their hall that no such gift would be given to the bandits. No men reach the walls of Bhoriane without standing against Martel and his knights.

As the bandits were seen charging over a hill on the horizon, nearly fifty strong, Martel pumped his shield high into the air. "We are strong, our abilities are infinite, we are the Knights of the Horns! Bhoriane will not fall today!" The chorus of the knights chimed in behind Martel, undoubtedly shaking the steadiness of the bandits that had just reached audio range of their decree. "Stand before us and fall!"

With that, all of the knights drew their shields before their faces and began slowly marching forward toward the bandits. Martel fell back into his slot in the formation and grinned. The double-wall tactic of the knights had proven effective against the unorganized hordes many times. It was easily adjustable once the battle commenced and was capable of holding off the number of bandits they faced with little effort.

The two forces clashed moments later, battle cries were heard, and arrows peppered the bandits. Five of the knights in the back of the double-wall had switched to their bows and fired off volleys of projectiles, landing home over and over again. Even more effective were the three heavy knights, Martel's finest, who charged through the first wall from the back and proceeded to behead nearly five bandits each with their claymores.

Yet, the knights did lose two men over the course of the battle. Ildric Lanuer and Cedric, a man with no last name, fell to the blunt hammers of the bandits. Another man was wounded, but not severely. Martel mourned the losses, but basked in the triumph of their victory. The ten men who were left over from the bandits, not including their leader, had fled. Horis, another warrior in the legion of Martel's knights, had obtained the bandit leader's axe and held it high in the air for the knights to see.

"Men, today we have triumphed. Now, let us take the useful materials from the bodies of the bandits and give our comrades a proper burial." The tail of the sentence was met with an audible decrease in Martel's enthusiasm. "The night grows near and we must return to the southern end of Bhoriane."

Idhdea had half anticipated travel but had not looked forward to it, away from his cozy home his joints would see to making him suffer.

"I understand" he said with less enthusiasm. He turned about to face his council, "we risk war, therefore General Bovkinna shall act in my place until I return or I relieve him of his duty". In reality Elbent was not a talented statesman but he would remain loyal to his lifelong friend no matter what, something the rest of the lords, all ruthless politicians would not.

Facing the emissary, "I can leave at a whim" he explained," we leave at your leisure"

ooc: craptastic I relize, but I can't type much more tonight...

Rhano, Bhoriane

With Valen still in Daggerfall, Jamaal was bound to be back in Wayrest. The Elysana-Rurik truce would now focus the war on the west. The lone Dark Brotherhood agent would make his way from Daggerfall to Wayrest, to meet up with his brother. For now, the brotherhood was inactive, but soon that would change.

What everyone wouldn't realize right away, is that the brotherhood has direct spies in Elysana's castle. They see every economic change, every law change, and every conflict. For now, they would lie silent, until they were hired. Almerion has just taken the sanctuary in Sharnhelm, and just seemed to isolate himself.

Rhano would sit in the lonely inn, until he decided to continue his journey. It was possible that something odd would turn up.

Camlorn

"Very well then."


The ruler and emissary were off, to stop at each city on their way to Daggerfall.



OOC: I have permission to control Nilloc's character for now. I would make it longer, but I have to go to bed.

OOC : Crazy plot-twist Wooly. I hope you know you will be brunt and decapitated if your secret gets out, I wont stand for any of this heresy!

IC:

With the emissary having left his company, Olack could now rest. Although the thought of having to continue such talks tommorow by no means appealed to him, he would relish the spare time he now had. Indeed, he was not a very politically-minded man. On the contrary, he simply believed that spiritual and moral righteousness would rid the world of all conflict entirely, making these pithy little meetings mundane. He sighed sympathetically and finished his wine, relishing in the smooth thick taste. The brutish Captain Falkirth re-entered the office.

"Our guest has been properly housed, my Lord" he bowed. "Good, good" Olack replied. "Hopefully he well give word of our generousity to his superiors, raising our otherwise tarnished reputation....Falkirth, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course my Lord, anything"
"What do you make of all this political turmoil?"
"Dont give it much thought my Lord. Still, if it gives us the support we need..."
"Indeed, thats what I was musing over. I fear casting allegiances will earn us our fair share of enemies too"
"Aye my Lord, thats to be expected. And we do not know if Illessan has indeed allied with other kingdoms"

Olack stroked his chin in thought. "Indeed you are right. Perhaps we will play it safe for now, I have my studies to do. You may leave Falkirth, but before you go...ensure that you have the cloves of garlic hung over the archway of all the doors please".

The Captain nodded and left the quarters, and once more the aged Lord was left alone with his books. Perhaps he would sign this "treaty", although he had no idea of what he could offer the united kingdoms. Perhaps he would have to send agents of his own to other provinces...

OOC: wooly, here's your reply.

Daggerfall

Like many great men, Iago was thrust into a spotlit theatre from relative obscurity. However, his romantic figure appealed little to those he led, and his own unpredictability produced an unlikely figurehead for a public rebellion. The throne was much too big for him, men said, and his spartan attire contrasted with the tall, exotic throne upon which he sat in the great hall of Daggerfall Keep. Indeed, Iago was often given to meeting visitors from a black marble seat on the dais beneath the throne, or even in quiet antechambers off the hall itself. Undoubtedly though, his quiet thoughtful face was friendly in its own way despite the ironic juxtaposition, and the men before him were plainly friends with open hands.

The high windows let in a good deal of light, and the solid beams illuminated the drifting dust. Shadows darted, revealing themselves and quickly fading as courtiers moved between the window-lights and the hearths which were pleasantly warming the castle. It was a new environment, one which he was unaccustomed to, but not opposed to. It lacked certain luxuries which Imperial facilities had, such as running water and the like - but it was publicly known that he spent much time at his own manse which had those certain fittings. With a face like a thoughtful meerkat recently caught between a lion and another lion, he betrayed little emotion but post-panic relaxation while he looked down on the emissary.

"Hail, man of the Ilessan Hills. I am Iago, King of Daggerfall. By what name do you go, and what business have you in the realm?"

OOC: I'm going to character control you guys if you don't mind. Anyone else wishing to join the academy portion of the RP let me know and we'll work something out.

Tomyris Academy

Inside the Front Gate, Fountain

http://www.freewebs.com/sir_marius7/Commission__Largo_by_Wen_M.jpg. He had been a Dragoon for four years and an instructor for two of those years. Although he still went out on contracts, now a days he split his time with Dragoon field exams as well. As he eyed the students he was happy to see a diverse group with varying abilities that could compliment each other. He was familiar with the group.

Carth although untamed in his spell casting ability, showed an advanced level of telekinesis to compliment his sword work. Rea, although 'unarmed' in the traditional sense was capable at destructive spell casting be it by her own reserves or by her enchanted rings. Andrethi was like wise a capable Sorcerer but was also quick moving and stealthy capable. Shahab was easily a hammer and with his bare hands take enemies by surprise with the ferocity of his ability. Phillipe would keep any ranged enemies out matched and down before they could do any harm to the group. Bolag surprisingly to the enemies will prove a useful defensive mage but also a capable warrior in his own right. Tora was one of the fastest in the group and his unique Khajiit style would simply outclass many of the less fortunate. Kythias although the youngest, showed great potential in being one of the most skilled spell swords Damian had ever seen.

Damian himself was a sword user, blindingly agile, he made use of Wind magic and was also a Serpent Summoner. He specialized in covert contracts such as battlefield assassinations. Considering the field exam, he was the perfect instructor to lead this group. The students stood in front of him with their backs at the fountain. Damian stood quietly for a few seconds before he began.

"Welcome students to the Dragoon exam. First off I will introduce myself, I am Damian and I will quickly brief you on the broad aspect of our contract and then we will be on our way to the docks. As you may have heard earlier this year, Wayrest's incursion of Skyrim failed prompting the newly formed Aldmeri Dominion to back Daggerfall and a few other powers in High Rock to throw off the Queen's rule. One of these powers is the ancient Elven House Direnni who have switched from being vassals of Elysana to being vassals of the Dominion. They rule the Balferia islands in the Illiac Bay and all refused Elysana's rule save for the westward most island. One of the dissidents within Clan Direnni took advantage of this and decided to support Elysana, and kept the island for himself." As Damian spoke he slowly walked from left to right with his hands clasped behind his back looking at the standing students.

(Pretty big gamble but if it pays off the dissident would become the de-facto leader of Clan Direnni if Elysana maintains her power, and knowing her she just may.) Rea thought to herself. She was always interested in these sort of games and participating in them was even better.

"The Balferia islands have always been regarded as a safe meeting place between the Illiac bay powers. The reason behind this is that the islands are protected by arcane towers, spell casting towers much like the ones protecting the Academy. House Direnni has contracted us to destroy this tower in order to allow their fleet to land and take back control of their island." Damian turned around looking through the bars of the gate and seeing that their carriage was there. "With me." He quickly ordered and stepped toward the gate, the students followed behind minding their manners and keeping quiet. Stepping out of the front gate, there stood a long carriage drawn by eight horses, two side to side. The entrance into the carriage was in the rear, the servant pulled down the door revealing stairs for the students to use. Damian signaled with his hands at the students to enter and as they did two long seats flanked the right and left side of the student's vision allowing them to pick where they'd be seated. Afterward Damian stepped in and made his way to the front end of the carriage where he stood with his back to another door that led to where the coach driver would be on the outside.

"It is a rare gem that we are ever given two contracts that coincide and you are all lucky enough to have that happen in your Dragoon exam. It seems that the dissident Direnni member has hired a rouge Telvanni Mage Lord to manage the defense of his island. Archmagister Telvanni Aryon has contracted us to eliminate the rouge mage who I've been told is a capable Necromancer. While the Telvanni will die, the Direnni, whom I should inform you is my uncle, is to be captured alive." Damian remained quiet for a moment before recapping.

"So your primary goal is to destroy the Spell tower. The secondary goal is to capture Yarnar Direnni. And lastly if possible, to eliminate the Telvanni mage Lord hired by my uncle to defend his island. We'll be at the docks in ten minutes. You can ask my questions once we are on the boat." With that Damian turned around opening the door to the front end of the carriage and stepping out sitting at the front leaving the students alone.



OOC: So so post. Kind of get you guys the main idea of what we'll be doing. You can post reactions to what Damian was saying and i'd suggest some character interaction while we get to the docks. Remember there's a bunch of them and few of us so we have to work together.

The Isle of Balfiera

The castle at Rowing was a modest keep, and Sir Arcady Webbe was a man who was plainly bigger than his castle. No wonder the Castellan put this knight in charge of the lands nearest to the Direnni personal estates. Damn, I should be grateful that he's giving me any audience at all. Any other lord on the mainland would show no interest in my at all... Just another landless sellsword. Gods above! In order to present himself to the highly praised cavalier, Dragomir appeared at the preplanned time in his finest gear: slim white jodhpurs, short brown riding boots, a dark blue shirt over which he wore his byrnie and a long dark blue cloak of fine wool which dragged just behind his heels. The cloak was clasped at his shoulder by a dragon's head in pewter fashioned with Dragomir's name in mind. It sounds a lot like that Western word, doesn't it?

Lord Webbe was a dashing young man, possessed of youthful good looks. He was tall, broad, dark haired and dark eyed with a curly moustache and a fiendish goatee. His clothing was of fine silk and velvet: his slashed doublet was of a deep purple revealing black satin beneath and his own leggings were of the finest-woven black wool. An ebony longsword in a purple leather sheath was tied fast to his belt. "What brings you here, mainlander?" He laughed a little at that. It was rude of a man to laugh at his own [joke], but Dragomir forgave him before replying.

"My lord, I come with news. I have been charged by an associate of one captain Llethas Assamaranan to come and swear fealty to the Webbe Family. I know not whether this is the right castle to take up that cause, but I believe sir, that you may be able to - in your gracious generosity - fulfill my goal." It was memorized by rote. A good two hours to remember it and fix the wording. Ah, well. Its all worth it, and Dora doesn't tire of the listening.

The knight leaned down from his high stone chair. "Llethas Assamaranan. That man is a Dark Elf, out of Blacklight, and he is one of my chief captains. I see, you are the one we have been waiting for!"

There was a pause. What do I say?

Phillipe - Tomyris Academy

The stairs leading into the carriage clanged to the ground, and not a second later had the young Breton gallantly walked up them and taken a seat further within, closest to the wall seperating them from the driver. Adrenaline pumped rigorously through his veins, his mind purely fixated on the inevitable banishment of evil that was to come.

He had polished and oiled his weaponry before, to ensure there would be no issues with utilising them on the field. Indeed, the crossbow mechanisms worked smoothly...and his bow had been treated for any possible weaknesses. On him he had a generous supply of arrows, some with broadheads; other with silver heads...aswell as two special "rope arrows". All of his supplies were packed neatly onto his belt, his two weapons strapped across his back. Yes, he was ready alright.

He took off his hat and rubbed his hands together, eagerly awaiting his cohorts to join him so he could discuss the objective that lay before them.

OOC: meh post, but lets get the ball rollin'

OOC: Timeskip.

Daenia

William was half vampire. He as not as strong as one, but he was not affected by any of the draw backs, besides being weak to silver. The lord would not know this. Later that night, a vampire had entered his room, speaking in a dark voice...

"William...William, wake up...

William glared back, eying the vampire.

"Gabriel, I will call you if it is needed. We have our needed information. Be on your way."

The vampire nodded, exiting through the window.

Black Waste

"You can't be serious m'lord" the man droned on following at the heels of a rather frazzled wizard. " It is our sacred duty to-" the well dressed follower was cut off by a half raised and lithe hand.
"I am quite serious Alexi" Osrath smiled.
"You cannot traverse the swamps, let alone the country side unprotected." the man piped, his black goatee and noble manner made his anger that much more tense.
"There is a collection of powers at my disposal I shall be fine." they proceeded down through the tower, the hallways and corridors arrayed with torches and fine oak doors, even the spiral staircases were furnished with blue carpet. Alexi followed him silently, obeying his master's wishes. Alexi was the leader of the Scarlets, the house of Spellswords. Osrath's home was that you would expect of a powerful mage, it was well furnished, colorful and in some cases even magical. Osrath and his spellswords enjoyed the atmosphere his masters had strived to create, the pinnacle of his study, livelyhood and purpose. It was rare for Osrath to oversee the peons and lowly people of his realm, not out of apathy but simply the call for the study of the abnormal, factitous, and outlandish.

He was informed his people understood he was a lonely scholar, and in his time he had not met a woman he could enjoy or harbor affection for (it simply never came) It was unlikely Osrath would undergo fatherhood, even while he was still able. He was ready, in practice to have an apprentice, he did not however find one of promise.

There stables at the base of the tower, just across the chasm that dropped to unknown depths. Osraths horse, Fionn, was one of three horses in the stable. The horses would rarely be used by the Scarlet, they did not leave Black Waste often. The white horse was healthy and already shod and fully tacked, the farrier saw little work in the stables and as a result rarely worked in the uppertown.

Osrath mounted, his travel cloak, a dirty grey that hid his rather plain tan robe covered his body. He would leave Black Waste without the people knowing and be on his way to meet Elysana in Wayrest. Upon emerging from the plateau's base the smell of decay from the swamp hit him, dismissed as nothing more than a scrunch of the nose he brought Fionn to a trot and made his way for the swamp.

OOC: Sorry, Wooly. But Im going to have to disregard your post as apparently a 3 days time skip is indeed way to extreme. You gotta give the Rp'ers time to make their own decisions, not blindly shove treaty's in their faces :shrug:

IC:

Olacks office ~ City of Daenia

The day had been spent rather fruitlessly as the Lord had continued his daily routine of browsing through his grand library, desperate to find an ancedote to his problems. But as the day progressed and the pile of read books piled higher and higher upon his desk...the grim truth once again became apparent. There was no aid to be found in his literature, no way to combat the ever increasing flow of undead in his lands. And so, with a sigh admitting defeat once more, he returned the pile of books to their black marble shelf.

It was here that the booklet caught his eye. For as he slid the last grand novel into its place on the shelf, a smaller red book had fallen out of its place and onto the floor. For a minute, Olack was merely mildly irritated...kneeling down to pick up the fallen writings and put them back in the bookcase, but as he brought the small and mouldy book closer towards him; his face lit up with eager delight.

The Fall of the Usurper: Banishment of the Undead of Dwynnen

This was a sign from above, of that there was no doubt. Any other book might of fallen to the floor...but this one fell for a reason. To show Olack the way towards the true light. To punish the legions of darkness and have his city be cleansed of all evil. Yes, this was the book that would change his city for the better.

The priestly Lord rushed back to his great desk, sitting down in his grand chair and immediately started reading through the booklets torn and weathered pages. Dwynnen was the answer. Once a land plagued by undead itself, it was ruled over by liches, vampires, zombies, and skeletons. But a man blessed by the gods would be the undoing of such a cruel tyranny. Orthrok was given an army and took the battle to the undead legion, pushing them out and becoming the first Baron of Dwynnen itself.

It was too similiar to be mere coincidence. Yes, Dwynnen was the key to Daenia's salvation. If the land had previously been plagued by undead itself, and had succeeded in battling them off.....then there may be a chance of Daenia being saved aswell. Time was of the essence, an agent needed to be sent to the city to enlist its aid.

But surely this would not bode well with the emissary of Daggerfall that slept below. Enlisting the aid of Dwynnen would be enlisting the aid of Queen Elysana...surely earning the Lords province some enemies. Olack mused over the thought, but in the end went with his heart. Salvation of his province was all that mattered, and if Dwynnen could serve him better then Daggerfall...then so be it. The Lord rung his mighty bronze bell, and Falkirth had entered the chamber within the minute.

"You rang, M'Lord?"

"Indeed I did Falkirth, and I believe I have the key to saving this damned cesspit of brooding undead. Have Rene Grallforth be sent to this office. I need him to act on my behalf to travel to the capitol of Dwynnen, and would like to brief him before he does so. Why, I would go myself...but I fear such an act would not put me in proper standing with our emissary from Daggerfall. Grallforth will have to do, and I will continue to entertain my guest".

With a nod, Falkirth left the room again. Olack smiled with content, patting the faded leather red cover of the book that may well of just saved his city before placing it carefully in the desktop drawer.

Daggerfall

The crooked puppet figure of the king perched cathartine over the table. Muted voices discussed trivial matters at length, and Iago grew bored and waited as the minutes passed by. How to tax a certain noble, how to limit the powers of another, how to promote a third (within reason), how to silence discontented peasants who suffer from bandits which cannot immediately be dealt with. And lo! it was not that Iago did not have the means to deal with such matters, oh no. A man of reason and commitment was Iago; in various positions and places he held dealt with these issues and a hundred others across the continent. It was just that there were more pressing matters at hand, and a magnate of the most dissented region in the world needed to prioritize.

Iago rose; walked to the stone basin; drew a tall goblet of ice-water; said at length: "I have been king here for less than a month, my lords. I grow tired of the petty bickering so native to Bretons. It almost makes me ashamed of myself to count my kith amongst these jokers."

Nobody said anything, but the aquiline advisors (also drawn from the Emperor's Service, which was oddly fitting) seemed to twitch and grins appeared where stern, needle-thin lips were set just moments before. The King's advisors were drawn from across the world, but they were united by a solely Cyrodiilic discipline.

"So, what should we do to end this squabbling?"

Again, not a word. But it was a rhetorical question anyway.

"Before you leave this room tonight, gentlemen, we will have established official borders for the Kingdom of Daggerfall, down to the last farm and hovel. Find a hill, become a king: what an idiotic saying. These Bretons think only of kingship, so selfish. Bah! What does it matter?" A strange light kindled in his eyes.

One of the councillors tautened, Gods! he thought, here comes one of his fits.

"This "Barons' War" as I've heard the little men call it, is soon to rage for a reason. The coming carnage exists because of Elysana in Wayrest. Oh, yes. The Queen [censored], who stirs only to beggars (yea! those who come to her pleading) and answers to none. We can't fight a war, my lords, if we don't know where to position ourselves. In its heyday, this city was but the southernmost part of the greatest kingdom the West has ever known. To establish it anew, we must cast the die and draw new borders."

Iago seated himself once more.

"With that in mind," he began with a deep breath which made the flames recede, "We should draw the first lines above Tulune and Shalgora - ostensibly parts of the core..."

Daggerfall

Many people came to Daggerfall during these troubled days; with war looming in the distance quite a few probably wished to seek the safety of the city's mighty walls. Messengers, too, scurried back and forth, vassals or friends of the King. The final preparation before the war for almost the whole of High Rock, a conflict that could've sealed the fate of the Bretons - would they remain fractured, or would a new age come? Would old triumph against new, Daggerfall against Wayrest? Many old and wise heads probably tried to find the answer to that question; it plagued most of those travelling the road to Daggerfall. One man for sure, however, found little interest in thinking of the war ahead.

This man stood out amongst the other travellers like a sore thumb. He was not an adventurer - the http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/19763.jpg were much too fine for such a lowly occupation. He was not a warrior, either, for a rapier and a plate cuirass, both undoubtedly of Anticlerian design, were his only instruments of war, though his horse indeed seemed a fine one. This man, one Raphael of the Anticlerian house Perevier - a relative of the archbishop of Mara in Anticlere - was, in fact, a messenger, one that you couldn't mistake for anyone but an Anticlerian. Fairly young, no older than thirty years; some may've said he lacked the necessary experience, however Manfred trusted Raphael's abbilities. The man had visited the court of Sentinel not once on his own, and accompanied many other messengers before the War of the Wolves.

Raphael, an Anticlerian through-and-through, wasn't overly worried about the comming war. His homeland was, though in the middle of it all, completely neutral; Manfred had decided to focus on such matters as a more thorough settling of Mens instead of another war between Daggerfall and Wayrest, though this may've seemed as highly important to some. Raphael, however, thought he knew the truth - to every man the war they fought seemed the most important. Historians would find the place of this war in history; perhaps it would not prove to be so important after all, or it just may.

So once more Daggerfall and Wayrest throw themselves at each other; should we place great significance on this? They've been warring since Wayrest rose above the status of a backwater village. Both had their share of defeats and victories, and I would not be surprised if the one who lost this conflict would start a new one in my lifetime. Instead of warring they should look to their homelands. So-called 'lords' clawing at each other on every turn, serfs working the land as cattle and the products of their work wasted on feasts and their overlords' castles that only serve to drive the land apart further. Pathetic. Our neighbours all lingered for a mere moment, and they lost a valuable ally in the War of the Wolves... Lord Manfred says that the Menevians were there as well, but I do not hear much from their lands. They do not seem to realize the importance of Sentinel as a trading port and the mouth of Hammerfell.

That is why the provincials from Mens joined us, and not Daggerfall. They at least understand the value of a superior culture... But of course, I am not to call Daggerfall inferior in this court. Savages would do so; an Anticlerian would not. So keep your thoughts hidden and guard your back as you always have done, my friend, for that, and not some vaunted chivalry, leads to greatness. Fixing a less snub face expression Raphael rode up to the gates. He had to admit - the walls of Daggerfall were quite imposing, as suitable for a city once truly great... Was it still great, however? His time in the court would show...


Carth

Well bloody hell. I could've like, you know, walked. Looking at the large carriage Carth rose an eyebrow. Would be more comfortable too I bet. Mens wasn't exactly renowned for excellent roads; if the ones in mainland High Rock were deteriorating under careless local authorities, then the ones on this island were never particularly great. The natives, a strange bunch with no clearly identifiable race, had little need for roads before all the people from Daggerfall came; they could cover the rougher portions of the island no problem. And though it was generally quite flat, there were quite a few rocks dotting Mens, particularly the roads where they were lumped after many empty fields were cleared up for farming.

Nevertheless, Carth had little choice in the matter - they were told to take a carriage and so they would. Better than riding a horse anyway. Rolling his eyes, he stepped in. Philippe, another Breton - if Carth could consider himself a Breton - was already inside, though some of the others seemd a bit more hesitant; at least one person in the carriage didn't blame them. If they wouldn't break their bones they'd have to make their way through the 'city', little more than a glorified distorted fort that seemed stuffed with people, perhaps because it was pretty small, because if placed in anywhere not tiny the populace of Mens probably couldn't do a decent job of populating the smallest of the mainland realms.

So if the ride doesn't shatter our bones we'll have to take out a Direnni. Smooth. At least it's not some worthless idiot test I guess... And a chance to get out and do something bigger at long last. AND we might get paid! Although he could've been accused of not grabbing the reins and going out on his own Carth was partially right - for non-Dragoons life could get boring, particularly for one with Carth's personality. Making the trip to Mens was pretty useless if you didn't intend to get a ship to Anticlere, where everything was; and that wasn't something he usually had the time for. Exactly what did he do to be so occupied wasn't really clear, however, because though more often than not the other students would spot Carth doing nothing he always claimed to be doing... things.

I wonder how much will they pay us for this, if any. Or is this some crappy 'the work pays for your studies' deal..? Because screw that, for once I want to feel some coins in my pouch... I'll need coins to buy said pouch, too.

"And so begins the epic voyage to getkilledbytoweria. Anyone else think that might be a bit of an issue..?"

Daenia
The cobblestone back alley was poorly lit in this grim, dark city. Indeed, many of the lamps in the city were never lit; there were some districts people would rather not bring their torches into, to light the path for city walkers. These streets remained dark by night and shadowed by day, a home for the dark and destitute that the lord of Daenia tried to vanquish.

It was a war that Olack was losing, slowly but steadily. Ever night that a vampire went unslain was another night they added to their ranks. This had been a problem for years, vampires and skeletons in the sewers. But only in the last decade had it reached such a plaguing proportion. And the reason was still unknown to those who ruled, and those common folk.

Vanhilus smiled to himself as he walked down the market street, which was lit by the sun and shadowed little by the houses around it, past one of these dark, foreboding alleys. Like all the people of Daenia Vanhilus stopped and looked down the alley, smile gone, hesitant to cross in front of it even yards away lest a demon pounce. But unlike the housewives and washerwomen and merchants, Vanhilus knew nothing would come out. The aging man, nearing his late 60s now, carried on down the market street, only stopping again when he came upon one of the multitudes of all important stalls in Daenia.

"I've got a sweet deal fer ya sir. Ten gold for ten gloves!" The merchant announced, holding out the garlic. "I'm guessing yer batch went bad 'bout now, mister Hartrich." The middle aged Imperial man knew Vanhilus by name, but that was not unusual. He was his favorite customer.

"Sadly yes. It seems that the presence of these beasts only makes the preservation of garlic shorter." Vanhilus sighed, passing the ten gold to the merchant and slinging the garlic over his shoulder. For an aging sixties man, Vanhilus Hartrich was not unfit, though that was not unusual for men like himself, who adventured heavily in their past. Such activity, unless it lead to injury, kept you from needing a cane for several years more than a simple city commoner. "Bet it makes your business flourish though."

"Ah, sadly not sir." The merchant replied, his smile turning grim as Vanhilus leaned on the stall table. "Ya see... been having a problem with my groves lately. Something's wrong with it. Thinking that some more undead than blood-svckers have been trying to remove the garlic fields. Or poisoning them. But I'm just not growing what I used to." Vanhilus' face expertly mirrored the merchant's worry. This was not good news, especially if it was wide spread. For the people, anyways.

"Hey, you been one of them types, think ya can help?"

"I'm sorry, friend." Vanhilus shook his head and stepped away from the stall table. "I'm getting old. I've only got a few seasons left before I need a cane to hold me up. My days in that activity are over."

"Tis a shame, mister Hartrich, 'tis a shame." The Colovian Merchant sighed, shaking his head. "Oh, for the days of Daenia's glory..."

"How I long for them as well." Vanhilus added to the merchants, but his tone was lower. For the merchant did not know, and would not agree, either, that Daenia's glorious days were only just beginning. Vanhilus began his walk anew down the marketplace street, heading for his own small home, a meager two-roomed building, that sat along with the vast majority of Daenia's 'untainted' population.

Where the streets were sunniest, where the nights were brightest, and where no vampires or their consorts would ever be thought to inhabit.

Wayrest countryside
Jassan sighed, leaning back on his chestnut horse's saddle and basking in the sun as he led the Band towards their destination. He was supposed to be the vanguard, but he hardly looked like he was doing the job.

Which was why Ree'Ja was prowling just a few paces ahead of the chestnut, more alert than the Bosmer in appearance. But Jassan was actually paying attention; sort of.

"I've heard the situation with vampires has gotten worse in Daenia over the last few years. We could head there." Hukral remarked calmly as his stallion trotted along.

"Hukral, I thought we went through this last time." Marsha snapped from behind the large Nord, riding her own horse with her naginata tied to her back. "I'm in no mood for becoming dinner to an anorexic dead man." Her tone was harsh and unyielding.

"She does have a point. Necromancers are tough, sure, but vampires are undead. Far more arcane power flows through those veins than blood can sustain." Wikrun added. "We might be in over our heads. And last time I heard about Daenia's situation, it was only getting more prolific. I don't think we could handle a legion, Hukral."

"But we could assist them, so we wouldn't be alone." The Nord responded.

"Hey, big-boy, remember the last time we raided a vampire den?" Jas interrupted, looking at Hukral upside down.

"Four years ago, yes." Hukral turned his blue eyes to look back at Jas' sapphire. "Wikrun was with us."

"Yeah, he was, and there were five of the bastards. One of them nearly bit my face off, I might remind you, and that with WITH Wikrun's help. We'd fair better against five now with Marsha and claws-a-lot, and nomad, but face it Huck, we'd be gourmet buffet to those leeches." Jassan exclaimed, not moving from his position on his horse.

"Then you have any other suggestions of where we find our next contract?" Hukral shot back, his voice a little harder than he might have intended. Silenced followed for a few moments.

"I suggest we get to Wayrest, find an inn, and do what we always have. Wait for someone to come to us." Wikrun supplied.

OOC: Short but got to go.

Daggerfall,

"I am Phillip of Northmoor, representing the Illessan state. We have chosen to declare independence from Elysana, as now, every city from Camlorn to Glenpoint has. The other rulers will be here in some time, but I wish for you to support us in this. You have long looked for independence. Elysana is weakened. Now is the time to retain ourselves. I will explain more, but I would like you to ask the questions, if you do not mind. More information will come when the other rulers arrive. Right now, they are negotiating in Daenia, I believe."

Phillip looked at the King with a soft look, eying him with respect.

"Now, will you take up independence against a weak Wayrest? Will you stand up for the justice and well being of your people?"

Daenia

The rain outside hissed through the air, the dark sky throwing itself through the window. Hardly any light was in the city, as strange noises and screams could be heard far and wide. With William still awake, the figure soon came back. The figure moved through the air, and then gradually slowed down.

"William, the watchers have seen the Count, through his window. He is plotting to side with Dwynnen."

William looked down, thinking about what he would do for the situation. Daenia had no chance with Elysana. The count was in the middle of his enemy. One sitting in the middle of the battlefield does not live. William eyed the black robed figure back, looking at him with seriousness, eying him with intensity.

"Gaston, make the vampires aware. No politician of the count will leave this city alive..."

William looked back, as the figure nodded, and made his way back to the window. The count had no idea of Illessan's hold on his city. If he sided with Dwynnen, who was with Elysana, he would be destroyed. It seemed the people of Daenia would care more to join Daggerfall. If the count did not cooperate, they would do their best to remove him from power.

The night was now clear, as the moon was shuddered in between clouds. The city was dark, being misty as always. The King of Camlorn, along with Saxon, was on his way. If William could allow Illessan and her allies to control the witch-hunters and the vampires, their would be one more unique elite breed in their force. William was sure Koegria and Bhoriane would side with Daggerfall. Once the edict was accepted by Daggerfall, Dwynnen, and possibly Daenia, would be cut off. The count would make the most important decision of his life the following day, and perhaps he would make the right one.

Wightmoor Castle, Barony of Dwynnen
Olwyn of Dwynnen

The young Baron of Dwynnen was pacing the solar of the ancestral fortress of his family. Having just returned to Dwynnen from an interesting meeting with the Queen of Wayrest, he felt somewhat out of his depth. The great realms of the region, Anticlere, Camlorn,Daggerfall, Wayrest, all of these were quite used to intrigue and treachery. Unlike those powers, who took center stage in the play of politics and trade, Dwynnen remained in the back, a small backwater realm that more or less kept to itself. Only a few times had the barony stepped forth. Under the first baron, the legendary Othrok, Dwynnen (and Wightmoor) had been wrested from the grip of a lich. Then, he had lead all of High Rock against the Camoran Usurper. However, later barons had removed themselves from politics, only coming forth again during the Warp in the West, and during the Oblivion Crisis.

But now, times were different. Elysana had made that fact quite clear. If rumours were true, a "peace" would soon be achieved with the invading Nords, but part of Olwyn didn't hold much hope for that peace to last. Nords are known for their unruly tempers. However, it was Bretony that concerned Olwyn more. Daggerfall, with the backing of the Aldmeri Dominion, may start to flex its muscles, both on the field and the trade routes. Anticlere also bore watching. While he trusted Mannfred Flyte to refrain from taking lands not his, or alligning his lorddom with Wayrest's enemies, Olwyn couldn't shake the feeling that one day he may just see Anticlere expand, if not in land than in wealth and power.

A sudden knock on the door brought Olwyn out of his musings, and when he called out "enter" a servant, his steward, and Geoff entered into the solar.

"Olwyn," Geoff had a wide grin on his face, "As soon as we got back from Wayrest you shut yourself up in here! We should be celebrating our good fortune for getting the queen to accept us into the fold."

Olbol looked slightly horrified that Geoff would dare to be so informal with their lord, but forbore to comment on it, opting instead to ask his lord if it was true that he had sent most of the Saethwyr to prowling the forests and roads.

"Yes, it's a fact." Olwyn turned away from them, moving to a table to fumble with a piece of parchment. "I cannot trust my fellow lords of Bretony, Olbol. They dare to profane their oathes and tarnish their honours by rebelling against her Majesty. Likely as not, they see me as a target because I still remain by her side," he gave a short laugh, one without much humour, "I am willing to let bygones be bygones if they choose to continue with their madness; want no quarrel with them. So," he turned back to his face, "I dispatched the Saethwyr to keep watch on the roads and borders. No one is entering my barony without being stopped and checked." The two men regarded him with slightly shocked looks on their faces, and Olwyn couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, I'm getting a little paranoid."

They sat and talked for a time, until the sun was lowering down onto the horizon. When Geoff and Olbol got up to leave their lord, Olwyn caught Geoff's arm. "I want you to leave in the morning for Bhoriane. If reports are true, the lord has so far not commited himself to any side. I want you to see to it that it is likely in his best interests to stay neutral in whatever conflict that might threaten to engulf Bretony."

"I can see to that, Olwyn. But what if he refuses?"

Olwyn knew that Geoff was slightly unhinged, having earned the surname le Tanner after he was found skinning a group of bodies after a skirmish a few years ago. Regardless, Olwyn trusted the older man with his life, but he felt he had to make something clear. "I would prefer if you refrained from harming the lord of Bhoriane. Granted, it would essentially throw that realm into chaos without a lord to head it, but we of Dwynnen cannot be the downfall of men of good birth. It is dishonourable."

Nodding his understanding, Geoff bowed and left the solar, and Olwyn to his thoughts.

Bhoriane
Lo'Bhoriane, Count Valjean

Idius sat in his usual seat upon the throne. He listened to the voices of his people, the young and old, the weak and strong. Yet, the only real piece of news that concerned him were the sidings as of late. He was worried that a conflict between Daggerfall and Wayrest might jeopardize his city. The people within it were far to important to him to simply be tossed aside, but Bhoriane did not have the armed forces to take on a conflict with the other regions of High Rock. The navy was impressive for a city, but still, sitting upon such a centerfold in the conflict would allow all of High Rock to prey upon his people.

And yet, Isdius could not see another option. Neutrality seemed to be the most promising ideal. Daggerfall would be angry at the loss of a forward post, but Wayrest might even thank him for such a stable foothold. What struck Isdius as even more gruesome than the fighting, however, was the thought of violating his city's pact with the nation and standing against Her Majesty. That was an appalling concept in his mind nowadays, as he could not see her as being a tyrant in any form. Liberty be damned, all the men of High Rock must've lost their logic somewhere outside of their city walls.

Just as Isdius considered dosing off, Martel entered in a motion of pure fury. He stormed down the hall, his footsteps audible before he rounded the corner, and shoved passed three guardsmen who were foolish enough to try and stop him. "My lord!" The knight shouted. "In all of my days, I have never seen thee so weak! You will not even stand with my men to protect your own people! Where has your head gone, sire!"

Isdius sat up in his chair and stared directly into the knight's eyes. "Martel, do you forget your place?" The count spat angrily as four guards stepped in at his side. "How dare you come to my hall and speak filth. If you wish to have an audience with me, speak behind doors! I ought to have you and your men disbanded for this!"

Though Isdius could see Martel's honor shining in his vengeful eyes, he was not afraid of the man. The steel gilded armor and extravagant cape the warrior adorned himself with were nothing but symbols, and if it came to blow the two were equals with their blades. The guards were numerous and strong in the inner court of the castle, so Martel would not strike at Isdius. Without the ignorance of honor, of loyalty, Martel would not harm an innocent man outright.

"Martel, let us not stand divided within our own walls." Isdius said as he rose, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. "Let us strengthen the bonds of brotherhood from here on, for there is much fighting ahead and of us I fear. I will need you and your men and you all will need me. It is for Bhoriane we stand at a crossroads, Martel, not for the past and not for ourselves."

Martel, the leader of the famed Knights of the Horns, could do nothing but nod to his lord's wise words. They soothed and erased his anger in an instant, for if his lord truly believed in those principles, then he must've had a reason for not sending men. He raised a hand and clasped Isdius' shoulder as well. The two men stared into each other's eyes for a moment, symbolizing their brotherhood in mental oath and in faction, and then stepped apart. Martel bowed and turned, stepping off to the side as another speaker came in to confront Isdius about some trivial issue. Martel's place was by his lord's side until nightfall, from there he would decide what needed to be done.

Dywnnen, Wightmoor castle

Samuel Ross frowned as he looked out the stained glass window of his room within the stone walls of Wightmoor castle. He was currently unsuited, his ebony and steel ensemble hanging on a proper armor stand in the corner of the room; just another thing to get used to, like the rich stained glass he now looked through.

"This place is tainted, then?" Sam asked, turning to look at the bedside table of hard finish pine. He had seen better wood furnishings, but even that was rich for him.

"Yep... seepin' with necro magic... These very walls." Came the reply in a rather soprano toned, annoying voice. It emitted from an elven skull laying atop the table, complete except for the lower jaw and a few teeth. It was a Dunmeri skull, and covered in ancient runes that were the wet dream of scholars. Those runes flashed dark orange as the words spoke, in time with the symbols in a seemingly random patterning. "There used to be liches here..."

"That's disturbing. Very disturbing." Samuel Ross turned back to the window, looking out and folding his arms over the cotton undershirt he now wore. Becoming a knight had its perks, but something about these cotton tunics irritated him greatly. Wear it 'till you break it in. He figured. It'd look like his less lovely tunics soon enough, but for now the emerald and dark navy dyes were vibrant and alive, looking too good to be on the back of a man who killed bandits and undead for a living, getting his next meal from the scraps of his last job for months.

Sam had the long sleeves rolled back to just below his elbows for comfort, leaving his haired arms showing but not caring if it was proper or not. He was wearing the damned finery, they should be happy for that much. The Baron of Dwynnen seemed happy enough with that, though. For now.

"You know what that means, right Furninan?" Sam asked the skull, as he unfolded his arms and picked up an ebony handled sheathed sword from the table nearby. Slowly pulling out the blade, he examined the beautiful crystal as it reflected the light from the window.

"The enemy of our enemy is our enemy too." The skull replied with a sigh-ish noise.

"One whiff of your existence here, and we are going to be either chased by the puritans or coerced by the filth." Sam murmured, moving the blade through the light. It looked so delicate, so beautiful, that it should never belong in battle. But along the way to Wrightmoor Samuel had tested it on some opportunities... it surpassed his silver blade in many ways. He would indeed vary between the two in battle. The Crystal held a wonderful edge but would be useless in direct blocks, but the silver lost an edge easier and was more sturdy for blocks and most parries. He'd learn to use both.

Ebon Knight... I did it father. I did it.

Now I hope I can survive long enough to make you proud.

OOC: Thanks for fixing that time skip problem Wooly. It just makes it a tad less frantic for everyone. And if a deadly game of cat and mouse through Daenia is what your so called "Emissary" wants, then thats what hes going to get :hehe:

Daenia ~ Exiting the Castle

Rene Grallforth looked up at the spitting sky with dismay. Rainclouds over Daenia were so frequent that it wouldn't be out of place to consider it "normal" weather at all. Why the weather was so erratic here eluded him, but in the end...he blamed it as a side-effect to the witch activity in the area. "When in doubt, blame the witches" had always been a favourite saying within the Lords circle of councellors, many of whom were mere religious fanatics who had little political intelligence anyway. Yes, Daenia was a city behind the times. Decrepit and aging, it was only a matter of time before it faded into oblivion.

With a grumble he made his way out of the castle archway and into the showering rain. Sun was still poking through the overcast clouds...but this only made the emissary more depressed. He hated it when the weather couldn't make up its mind. Still, he had a mission to do. Relations were to be opened with Dwynnen, and time was of the essence. It was only going to get darker, and with dark came those shambling undead that the city was so famous for.

He had on him his travel hat and black cloak, as-well as letters of announcement signed by Olack himself. As usual, a silver sword lay immaculately polished and strapped within its holy water-filled sheathe; and he had marked his map with the path he would take. A black carriage waited at the city gates, and from there he would head directly east towards Urvais.

This was not following the main road at all, and the area was mostly dying woodland or faded moors. Still, the Lord himself had ordered the path be cut through...as it was indeed faster then travelling the Ykalon/Phrygias road to reach the main city Dwynnen. Of course, it was werewolf country...but with any luck the carriage would reach Urvaius before anything nasty had the chance to leap out at him. And if it did? Well; thats what the silver sword was for.

Haste was vital, so the Breton agent dipped the brim of his hat and jogged at brisk pace towards the city gate...

OOC: A quick question...what is the time exactly? Im seeing conflicting posts about night and day and really haven't a clue

Bolag, Tomyris Academy

The shy Orc straightened up and looked at the instructor who walked up to the group, which had finally assembled. He recognized the mer (he took a guess at the man's race) by face but did not know his name. He did know that he was a Dragoon however, and Bolag wondered why he would be an instructor when he seemed so young and able to be doing contract after contract. His thought train came to an abrupt derailment as the mer began speaking, and Bolag listened intently.

Damian. Remember that you dunce. he told himself.

The instructor began a rather long speech about the exam, but Bolag soon found himself listening to political things about the area and he had to remind himself that he was in an exam and not some boring committee. Soon however, Bolag became clear as to why the information had been told.

When Damian finally finished explaining, the Orc had to swallow heavily at the task set before them. He had little knowledge of these "towers", but if they were as powerful as they sounded he didn't think a band of untrained students should be trying to destroy the thing.

He followed the rest of the group slowly to the carriage, being one of the last to enter and he took a seat at the back of the carriage, drawing his scimitar so it didn't interfere with the bench he sat on. He explained a little more as the students filed in, and Bolag couldn't help the look of trepidation that crept onto his large toothed face at the mention of a Telvanni mage, though he quickly suppressed it and looked down at his scimitar while listening.

Magic towers. Telvanni wizards. Bloody hell. This is suicide, especially for a test! he thought anxiously, looking around to see if any others shared his concerns.

Damian told them to sit tight and left the back of the carriage, leaving the students to their thoughts. Bolag looked around at all the faces, but couldn't get a read off any of them in the dim light. He turned his head as a voice broke the silence, and Bolag once again was at a loss for a name, though he knew the face. The man was clearly not of one race, though to Bolag, it didn't matter. He was apparently the biggest scum of them all at the school.

"And so begins the epic voyage to getkilledbytoweria. Anyone else think that might be a bit of an issue..?"

Bolag could hear the sarcasm in the Bretons (or Imperial?) voice, and though he didn't say anything he couldn't help but silently agree with his statement. He remained silent however, and returned to gazing lamely at his shining balde, trying to maintain an air of relaxation and coolness about him, though failing miserably at it as he took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare himself for the exam.


Edwinn, Outside of Kathgran Vale

Edwinn chewed his undercooked venison slowly, and thought of the frantic last two weeks. He had talked with Vytatus, though it had been short and very to the point before being dismissed and taking camp with the rest of his troops outside of the city. Now, after a quick chat (in a sense, as Vytatus did no speaking at all) with the Nordic man, he had learned that an unofficial truce had been declared between Elysana and the Confederation.

Naturally, when Edwinn let the word out in the camp, there was an uproar from the men, especially from those in Froulrands group who had passed through mist and enemy land to get to their General. Many were upset at the month of good fishing they had missed back home and the many late nights with their wives they did not get to share. Edwinn could not blame them, and he had tried his best to calm them but their anger was vented before they would begin to listen as many men ate more than their rations allowed and some even broke into a nearby tavern to steal every last drop of ale the place contained. Edwinn had to pay for that out of Northpoint's own coffers, though he had the men's names for when they returned home.

Edwinn had remained in his tent while he let his men have their tantrums like little children, and though of his options. When the men had been calmed (and some rather boozed up), he stepped out of his tent and put them all to shame, calling them children for throwing a tantrum like that and telling them that their wives would not want to bed a man who acts like a kid when he doesn't get his way. He told them that they had brought shame to Northpoint and their own families and that if they wanted to leave than they could and Northpoint would be all the better for it.

He regretted going so far, as by the next morning, a fair chunk of men packed up and were ready to go home, though they all seemed unsure about actually doing it. Edwinn had let his thoughts simmer and announced that any man who wished to return home in light of the truce and end of the war could do so.

He bade that any who wished to, would remain with Edwinn at Kathgran Vale just to maintain a presence. In the end, a fifth of his men had stayed, and though he expected more, he let all those who wanted to go home, to do so and sent them back to the ships.

"Why did I do that Froulrand?"

The large Nord who sat nearby looked up at his General. "Do what friend?"

"Let them go?" He responded. "The Lord will have my head on his gilded platter for this and my more private parts will be fed to his dog."

Froulrand chuckled. "They'd spit 'em out."

Edwinn flashed a toothy (his teeth being slightly sharper and longer than usual) at his old friend and gave him a fine example of a rather rude hand gesture. The two laughed again, and the silence returned as the small fire in the tent crackled while Edwinn ate and Froulrand studied the small map of the area intently.

"You did not answer my question." Edwinn said abruptly, looking at Froulrand with his crimson eyes. Eyes that had become increasingly sensitive to the sunlight....

Froulrand looked into his ailing friends eyes, knowing well the infliction upon him but feeling not an ounce of fear. "They wanted to go home. Let the bastards go. Better that than a riot and having them dessert to Elysana or not return to Northpoint. The city needs 'em more than we do here anyways." he said with a shrug.

Edwinn nodded slowly, comforted that his closest friend agreed but still not one hundred percent sure about himself. He feared of what would happen when Francis awoke to thousands of soldiers at his front step, announcing their return home and demanding compensation for their troubles of leaving home.

The remaining troops were basically all of the Knights of the Deep with all the mercenary bands and some of the cavalry. Virtually all of the Northpoint infantry had left.

So be it. the General thought.


Lord Francis de Guiralle, Tavern Three Miles Outside of Wayrest's West Gates

The overweight Lord paced back and forth across the dirty tavern, his mind racing and his hands twitching irritably behind his back. Word from a slightly reliable source had just confirmed the truce between Elysana and his newfound allies, the Confederation. He was nervous. With the war at the east no longer moving, the backing power to his seceding of the Kingdom of High Rock was no longer present. He was now just a rogue Lord who had foolishly detached himself from the ruling power of the land.

The Nords had been the waves on which he had planned to ride to new power in the north. Using their invasion, he had planned to aid them in defeating Elysana, and then, when the smoke cleared he would rule more than just Northpoint's pitiful land. He would establish the north part of High Rock under his rule, bringing the rival Sharnhelm to her knee's and all with the backing of the Nords who he would help against Elysana.

His plans were coming to fruition and he could almost taste the sweet fruit of it all, as he prepared a little speech for Elysana. Then, as he entered Wayrests territory, whispers of an end to the war in the east reached his ears and the well laid plan came crashing down around him.

He knew he had to act quick, and of the half dozen Knights with him, four had been sent out to try and find Edwinn. The General had to be warned not to expose Northpoint's traitorous ways to the Queen, lest with Wayrest's attention no longer on the east as much that Northpoint would feel her wrath, and perhaps even imbue Sharnhelm with new powers to keep an eye on Francis' rogue Lorddom. He could not make an appearance before Elysana. It would be to risky and suspicious and might invoke an investigation as to why he was this far south in a time like this.

He had to go west. It was crazy, but he knew he had to determine what other kingdoms out there were doing. Whispers of Daggerfalls newfound friendship with the Aldmeri Dominion had reached his ears and these he knew were reliable. He knew many of the western Baronies and little Lorddoms would join with Daggerfall, if by no other reason than to remain in one piece. He had to gain reassurance that Elysana would not go full out on Northpoint if she learned of it's defection from her Queendom, since the west would be a more pressing situation.

"Yes." he muttered, drawing a look from the Edgar and his son. "We go west." he told them, looking from one face to another quickly as though he wanted advice.

Edgar merely bowed his head. "As you wish m'Lord."

Paurand looked at his father with cold eyes and Francis returned the glare tenfold, standing to his full height even though it was not that much to begin with. The move had its effect and his son shrank back, if only a little and Francis gave him a do-not-say-a-word-if-you-know-whats-best-for-you look before sitting on the dirty bed. It was not as comfy as his bed in Northpoint, but he had been in the military and he had slept on worse before so it wasn't dreadful for him.

"We leave tomorrow morning. Try and get some sleep you two, and tell Fabus to get to his room as well. No good having him hung over or with some pretty little tavern girl in the morning." he said with a wink.

Edgar laughed heartily and exited the room to go retrieve the other Knight, leaving father and son alone. The two stared at each other, the large walrus-like Lord contrasting sharply against his skinny and handsome son. Paurand's stare broke first and he stood and exited the room, muttering a good night to his father before going to the bar to order a few drinks. Francis smiled to himself, loathing and loving his conniving son all at the same time.

"Like father, like son." he whispered to the darkness, before falling into a deep sleep.

OOC: Atomic hold your posting with your count for a couple days. FC4, bring your thing you PMed me about. Sorry for OOC. Nilloc, please control/get saxon to Illessan, but wait for about 2 in RP days, because it takes time.

Sorry for OOC

Carriage

Kythias had undone his baldric and held the Siphon between his knees, the intitates were all crammed together in the same carriage. Kythias was trying to calm himself, he would be in carriage and then boat, two devices he loathed. Already the swoons of motion sickness assaulted him. "And so begins the epic voyage to getkilledbytoweria. Anyone else think that might be a bit of an issue..?" Carth threw into the growing silence. Kythias was comfortable with Carth, and it helped with his condition.

He smiled, "Carth, I doubt anyone of us thought it wouldn't. If we can get on the island it will get done, i'm sure of it. I doubt the headmaster would send us on such an arduous journey and not to mention a grueling challenge if he didn't think we were capable my friend." Kythias lifted his tone " It's a matter of attitude people, enjoy your time of peace before the storm".

Azra's Crossing

The town Osrath found himself in was rather bleak, the logging town, a trade stop just after the Gauvadon stronghold at Wind Keep. Azra's Crossing was wedged between two hills, the main road disecting the community. Log Walls, much different from commonly found palisade surronded the town in a large square, the main gates had been open when Osrath had arrived at Dusk, the signet ring let him pass easily, the gates shut only moments after his entrance. Osrath sook out an inn, a rather inconspicuous inn...