4E4, The Empire is dying...yet life must continue.

And so it does for the common folk. Two years after the Last War of the Wolves, an almost unified Hammerfell engaged in talks of annexing Betony, and with the old connections of Anticlere was successful in doing so. A large surge in Highrock's economy soon followed. Daggerfall, at first pressured into the deal, soon exploded into a successful trading relationship through Anticlere and the Hammerfellian Kingdom opening trading rights on Hammerfellian wares and goods.

The isle of Betony was transformed into a large fort colony, dotted with three major foundries for producing the famous Sentinillean Cannons, two harbors, a master shipwright and trading posts throughout the entire island. The promise of high pay, new jobs, and adventure has brought men and women from all over the Iliac coast to move to Betony and try their hand at working the factories, producing weapons, and sailing across the bay in hopes of beating other traders.

None come larger in number then the children of the workers, unanimously called the rascals of Betony. The large increase in prosperity has lead to both the aristocracy and common folk to produce large families. That is where you come in. Whether you be the daughter of a trading baron or the Governor of Betony, a young orphan who makes his way through pickpocketing, perhaps the son of a smith, or a ship's powder monkey. You are a child who will find themselves thrust into a grand adventure across the Iliac and western Tamriel. You will find yourself aided by and chased by unique characters, explore the locales of the Timeline and be introduced to some of the unique experiences that only the Timeline can offer.

A Brief History:

The Summerset Isles had erupted into rebellion shortly after the Oblivion crisis, they were successful in winning independence, but had also convinced the chieftains of Valenwood to join them, the Empire after much deliberation, discussions, and paperwork had come to the Treaty of Anvil, reinstating the Aldmeri Dominion. Peace lasted briefly. Towards the end of the same year, the Hammerfellian King (in title) Thassad III had declared Hammerfell independent from the Cyrodiil Empire. The Imperial Legions invaded Hammerfell and brought all of it to its knees except for the City of Sentinel. In an attempt to stabilize the falling empire, Morrowind, Highrock, and Skyrim leadership were offered the Red Crown if they could subdue Thassad and take the city of Sentinel.

During the Siege, Thassad III was assassinated, his son, Prince Haroun inheriting the title of Elden Yokeda, leads his armies along with the help of the, Aldmeri Dominion, Barca tribe of Hammerfell and Ayuub tribe in victory against the Imperial Legion. The War of Last Wolves is said to begin during the Siege of Sentinel, when the Legion broke their Siege and were pursued by the Ra Gada.

Imperial Chancellor Ocato was assassinated during the war, Imperial leadership as well. Were it not for the military Genius of an Imperial Engineer, one Septimus Aquilla, the Ra Gada would not have been defeated at the Battle of Lainlyn forest, where the Redguards took close to 10,000 casualties. Shortly before the Aldmeri Dominion invades Elsweyr, soon abandoned by the Imperial Legion.

One year later, 4E 3 the Dominion seeks to gain ground in Highrock, but to no avail. They are stretched too thin. The Lord Manfred Flyte, Captal of Anticlere takes advantage of his land's rights to trade with Sentinel and uses shrewd maneuvering to avoid war with the Dominion and the Nordic confederation (which made claims in Highrock) and still remain independent.

4E 4 Naval expeditions from Hammerfell are sent to Yokuda. There purpose is unknown, but rumors fill the Betony wind. Precious metals and priceless treasures travel with this fleet on their return.

Headed straight for the Isle of Betony.

Word from the Author: Around three years ago I and a group of friends began a roleplay called the Siege of Sentinel, we loved it so much we spawned its own world and storyline of prequel and sequel roleplays tied into the same universe. This universe is known as the Immortalblood timeline, dedicated roleplayers hoping to continue the work that they have created. Although my good friend Immortalblood is not the author of this roleplay, it is tied into the same universe. I hope that people find the roleplay to be refreshing and new. And to simply have fun with the situations our characters find themselves in.

Now, for the boring but necessary stuff:

Rules

Ages of characters will be 8-12 but I will allow two characters to be a bit older so as to provide some guidance over the younger members. Nothing over 14.

Power is great when restrained, so as not to steal spotlight, but since you are children...there will be no famous soldiers or Daedra hunters amongst us. Be reasonable.

Do not disrespect another roleplayer and keep ooc chat concerning the roleplay to an ooc thread.

PM me your character sheets.

Mandatory fun. You have to have fun.

Character sheets are as follows:

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Race:
Occupation:
Appearance:
Items carried:
Notable skills or abilities:
Brief history:

And voila, thats it. Feel free to send a character sheet to me and I will respond as soon as I can.

Current character sheets:

Storyteller

Name: Jinjeera Talowey

Age: 9

Gender: Male

Race: Redguard

Occupation: Student/ pickpocket

Appearance: Jinjeera is a short lithe child with chocolate skin and erratic brown eyes. His hair is braided in neat rows thanks to his mother, but is usually covered within the mouth of the wolf hat and cloak he wears atop his head. With a quick grin and roguish look about him, the boy wears clothes suitable for the climate, brown cotton pants tied at the waist by rope, straw sandals, and a brown cotton vest with nothing but bear skin underneath.

Items Carried: At his waist is a hollowed minotaur horn his father had given him after a successful voyage out to sea, a fisherman's knife and a slingshot.

Notable Skills or abilities: Having worked with his father on a ship before, Jinjeera is skilled at climbing and quite agile. Even more so, this agility has helped him in picking more than one pocket.

Brief History: Jineera has always been a mischievous youth, always getting caught stealing bread from the baker, climbing a ship's rigging, or being the class clown. His mother, a hard working but lovely woman from the main foundry has struggled to keep Jinjeera out of trouble while his father has been gone. Jinjeera's behavior is said to stem from his father's absence, often out to sea, trading with Morrowind, Summerset or some far off land. Often bored, the young boy escapes within himself, imagining grand adventures and expeditions. Even so, he has always been a top student and so the school's teacher has not yet given up hope on him.

Self Proclaimed thief king of Betony, Jinjeera usually spends most afternoons with his Gang of Thieves...

Person from AnticlereName: Tancred Clement
Age: 10
Gender: Male
Race: Breton (Anticlerian)
Occupation: Student
Appearance: Tancred is shorter than average for a boy his age, with the trademark Breton pale skin, making it easy to mistake him for a sickly boy. He is, however, anything but, as his large, vibrant blue eyes can tell; he’s definitely a bit groomed though, as his dark brown, rather long hair usually bears signs of attempts to comb it. He’s dressed in a way that caters to the climate somewhat but is predominately Anticlerian, not Ra Gada in fashion and thus less suited for the heat – white shirt with loose, long sleeves (Tancred usually rolls them up to his elbows), light gray breeches, white boothose and mid-calf high brown boots. The boy can rarely be seen without a brimless scarlet cap, too, headwear nearly universal to young Anticlerians.
Items carried: A small wooden pendant with a crude carving of a mounted warrior on it.
Notable skills or abilities: Quite a sharp boy, Tancred is also capable of taking a strong beating, something he brought over from Anticlere and the quite rough games he used to engage in – mock battles with wooden swords. Having spent more than a year in Betony alongside many Ra Gada, he’s also pretty fluent in Yoku as well as his native Bretic.
Brief history: Tancred is from a middle class Anticlerian family, having grown up in the city itself. His father is a minor ordnance officer in the New Model Army, an assignment that has taken their family to where it is now – Betony, where his father is to help calibrate the cannons for Anticlere. Though Tancred is a bit shy when it comes to meeting new people, he seems to have fit in rather well in the isle, even if he eagerly waits for the distant day when he’ll return to his home city, since an officer’s career in the military is what his parents have in mind for him and for that he will need Anticlerian university education.

Ni!

Name: Raig

Age: 11

Race: Redguard

Occupation: Bread thief

Appearance: Long, unkempt tatty brown hair, with flies constantly hanging around him. Raig has a droopy face, with rings under his eyes – a result of many a bad night’s sleep. He wears a dirty red shirt, with a small rip in the hip, the shirt is creased and ragged around the edges. He wears a stolen pair of green breeches, which are also very dirty, and goes around barefoot. He smells of mud, manure and rotting fish.

Items Carried: Raig carries 7 lock picks, a rusted, blunt Iron knife that he found on the street and a muddy handkerchief.

Notable skills or abilities: For his age, Raig is quite good at lockpicking and can get into a few places – mainly bakeries. He can also go unnoticed, and is very quiet.

Brief History: Raig is an orphan. His father was lost at sea when Raig was just 8, and his mother died of the disease Collywobbles a year later. Raig is also quite stupid. And after his mother died, that was the perfect excuse the local school needed to kick the boy out. He has always been a troubled boy, however. Ever since the small family moved to Betony from Skaven, his father beat him, this was mainly for Raig’s idiocy. This damaged Raig’s self esteem, now he is cautious around advlts and older kids. In a way, Raig was relieved when his father’s schooner was found crashed into jagged rocks near Stros M’Kai. His mother was always loving of her child, and Raig was distraught when she caught Collywobbles, and since they couldn’t afford a healer, she died.
Raig wasn’t allowed to keep the home – as he was only 9 – and refused to go to the orphanage. He was taught by a school friend how to pick locks, and joined him on petty thieveries throughout the dock district of Betony. Raig now is rather good at picking locks for someone of his age, and uses his skills for food, breaking into bakeries and stealing bread.

Darkom95

Name: Donatello Dovere
Gender: Male
Race: Bosmer-Nord Halfbreed; Nord dominant traits from mother
Age: Twelve
Sign: The Lover


Class: Benevolence Student

Class Description: As a young boy training to become a Maran priest, Donatello spends most of his time within the chapel, though he does attend some classes at a local public school. His days are filled with classes and tutors, even his free time spent reading or praying, with relatively few friends and no real family to call his own. An orphan, his school tuition is paid for by the chantry, maintained only as long as he keeps up his schoolwork.

Class Skills: He is primarily a scholar, and his knowledge truly is impressive for his age, but his real talents lie in magic. He is a skilled mage, in both healing and mysticism, and has dabbled in alteration and illusion as well, though most of his spells are strictly within the church’s guidelines. He is also trained to heal without using magic, and is a keen student of anatomy. Donatello is also an excellent runner, with surprising stamina for his meager frame,


Appearance: Donatello has sharp, angular Bosmer features, with a small pointed nose and long (yet not pointed) ears, though his face is distinctly stronger than the average elf, even at his age. He has a pointed chin, thin lips, and sharp cheekbones, making his face look even thinner than it is. He has thin slanting blonde eyebrows over light gray eyes, with unruly dirty blonde hair frequently hiding the upper half of his face. He hides his merish features whenever he can, ashamed of the differences in his appearance.

His thin, bony body is just starting to resemble the man he will soon become, a thin layer of muscle slowly covering his small form, yet many still mistake him for an even younger child. He is short and scrawny for his age, a fact many of his classmates enjoy reminding him, and isn’t particularly athletic, though his stamina frequently impresses his trainers. He spends most of his time alone, reading, and his physique reflects his mostly sedentary lifestyle.


Eyes: Slate light gray, almost blue
Hair: Dirty Blonde, short unruly wavy hair
Skin: Light toned Nordic skin
Height: 5’ 2’’
Weight: 80 lbs.
Build: As a boy just starting to grow into his manhood, Donatello’s naturally skinny build has begun putting on the natural layer of muscle of any man. However, due to his heritage, he remains almost sickly thin, though in surprisingly good shape.


Personality: A decidedly shy, easily distracted child, Donatello has few friends amongst his classmates. He clings to the few friends he does have, and tries desperately to please them. He cringes at the thought of violence, or even confronting the many bullies at his school, and wants little more than to read his books and meditate. He is not outgoing at all, thoroughly introverted, and resists any form of change in his life or routine, though he is very easy going. He has little to no self confidence, and wonders constantly what his parents were like.

Donatello is aloof, frequently lost in his own thoughts, and also enjoys daydreaming in the gardens. He is very empathetic, especially towards the less fortunate and animals, and has a host of small pets that he hides from his teachers. But most of all, he is unsure of himself, who he is and what he will become, and wanders through his life, as if waiting for a purpose.


Goals: Serve the church, graduate school and become a scholar-priest, discover the truth about his past.
Fears: Criminals and other shady characters, most of his fellow classmates, heights, displeasing his bodyguard, teachers, or the Benevolences.
Hobbies: Studying, reading, practicing magic, walking through the church garden, staring at the sky, running through the fields of Betony, and spying on girls in the city.
Religion: Devoted to Mara, but worships all of the Nine Divines


Clothing: Donatello wears the blue and white robes of his chantry, with the knot of Mara loose around his neck in thin white rope. He has tight sandals laced around his feet, bracing his ankles and providing protection when he runs. When he does go running across the Betony countryside, he changes from his white robes into a pale blue tunic and soft white shorts, which he also frequently wears when going into the city.

Weapons: Priests, even those in training, carry no weapons.

Miscellaneous: Donatello can usually be found with one book or another in hand; more if he is going to school. Aside from that he has a small collection of odds and ends: a handful of birdseed in a pouch at his waist, any flowers he recently picked from the church’s garden hidden in his robe, a small pouch of salves and poultices that he uses for healing, and he usually forgets his feather pen behind his ear.


Magic: Donatello has been taught much by the Benevolences, and, along with his natural gift for magic, has already become an adept sorcerer. He specializes in the arts of healing and mysticism, but is also learned in illusion and alteration.


History: Donatello never knew his parents; he was brought before the chantry by his bodyguard Hamon at a young age, and has been raised by the Benevolences ever since. He has led a sheltered life, his only real friends the priests that guide him and the bodyguard who is like a father to him. His earliest memories are of his terrible stay in Solitude, where he was held captive after being captured by Nordic skirmishers raiding his native home near Jehenna. After a few long months in the city, Donatello was saved by invading Breton soldiers, a little malnourished but other than that fine. Hamon, however, was not so lucky, losing his hands to the Nords after trying to save the young boy from being whipped. (3E 331; he was six at the time)

Shortly after, Hamon takes the boy away from Jehenna, hoping to keep him out of harm’s way, and journeys to Betony, then a quiet city on the edge of High Rock. There he takes him to the local Chantry of Mara, hoping the priests might give him the education he deserves, and soothe his traumatized psyche. Donatello has remained there ever since, learning from the priests and spending many happy days with Hamon, but his dark memories haunt him. He has nightmares of Solitude, and the cruel men there, but sometimes his dreams involve the mother he never knew, a Nordic woman being slain by Bretons.

Glass Warhammer


Name: Charlette Bienne
Age: 11
Race: Breton
Occupation: Student/Courier
Appearance: Short even for a Breton of her age with pale green eyes, messy ginger hair and a permanent look of bewilderment that had nothing to do with facial features but had everything to do with her being permanently bewildered and barely intelligent enough to outsmart an orc or possibly even a rock.
Items Carried: An amulet given to her by her sailor father who bought it in some faraway land during a voyage. It has a small Fortify Intelligence enchantment that when used almost makes her as intelligent as the other children in her class. He hoped that the enchantment would help her do better in school even if it was technically cheating. Maybe it would have worked, if it hadn't been for Charlette's attention span being shorter than a Wood Elf with no legs meaning that she was probably capable of doing the work now but never paid it much attention. Occasionally, usually after using the amulet, she wonders how her dad managed to afford it. She has a job carrying things like packages to people's houses and as a result tends to have a few coins that she'd earned that day in her pockets. She keeps the rest of her earnings at home because her mother said not to run around town with anything that might attract thieves. She kept the amulet hidden inside her shirt for the same reason.
Notable skills/talents: Charlette makes up for her low intelligence with enough running speed to even outrun a fair number of advlts. This was the main reason she was given the courier job. That, and as dumb as she was, she could still understand instructions. She also managed to learn a Chameleon spell from her father who learned it himself on another voyage. She doesn't have enough magicka to cast it often but she finds it useful when she has to get through the bad areas of town. Combined with her natural sneaking abilities, that spell means that she is yet to be caught by thieves on a delivery. As brainless as she is, it is possible to teach her things with some patience and once a fact has managed to enter her tiny brain, it will never leave, so she won't need teaching the same thing twice, at least.
Brief History: Charlette and her family live in the poorer end of town and lose most of their money paying for Charlette's education, a decision that her mum is regretting and is thinking of pulling Charlette out of school since it doesn't seem to be doing much good. Charlette wouldn't mind either, she enjoys her job far more than her schooling, where she spends most of her time looking out of the window, wishing she was out there in the sun instead of the dark classroom being told things she didn't care about, assuming she even understood most of them. She could read and write and that was all she felt she needed. She wouldn't mind going with her dad to see the far away places he always told stories about whenever he returned home from a voyage. She'd quite like to learn more spells too, but hardly anyone did magic on Betony. That confused her, since she was sure Bretons were supposed to be great mages, yet here was a whole island of Bretons with no magic at all.

Tes96

Name: Vedaa Addammassar, adopted daughter of Ashlandic Dunmer, Ahti & Zebnannamu-Ilu Addammassar.

Age: 8

Gender: Female

Race: Dark Elf

Class: Sorceress

Birthsign: The Serpent

Appearance: Born and raised in the wilderness of Summerset Isle, Vedaa is a little short for her age. Being an Ashlander native to Summerset Isle, she has an accent that still lingers in her high-pitched, child-like, girly voice. Long sleeve shirt, shoes and pants are all she is wearing; including a necklace made from string and bones.

Equipment: Clothes made from fox and muskrat fur, amongst other hides of other native creatures of Summerset. She wears a necklace given to her by the whole tribe, as a symbol of their property and protection. It basically has teeth laced on it from creatures they've killed during their times.

Abilities: Incredible at the arcane arts for her age, but very misguided. A lot of spells were self taught and learned by other amateurs and critters. She is able to cast a Tongues spell to communicate with everyone else outside her tribe. Without magic, she can't communicate since she doesn't know common, mundane languages, like Tamrielic/Cyrodillic, Dunmeris or Altmeris.

Background: She procreated out of the interplay of the Aedra and Daedra. She was transferred to the wilderness of Summerset Isle, about 30 miles from Rosefield. Being born and raised by an indigenous Ashlandic Dunmer tribe (who were ostracized from the Vvardenfell clans), she has spent her entire existence living in the wild, surviving off of what the tribesmen would bring for food and drink. Their wise-woman, Vedaanamhii Addammassar (after whom Vedaa was named), sensed their was something divine about Vedaa. They believed she was Saint Veloth incarnated, which she wasn't. She spent a lot of time playing with the fey folken of the land, i.e. sprites, faeries, hobgoblins, gnomes, brownies... It was discovered even before she turned one, that she had a natural gift for magic. At 10 months old, she could heal injured insects and small animals. Around 2 she was able to cast levitation and telekinesis spells efficiently. When she began talking, it wasn't long before she was able to teach herself ways to communicate with other creatures and fey folken by using magic. Since she only lives with her tribe 30 miles west of Shimmerene, the only natural language she knows without using magic is her own native dialect that her tribe speaks. She knows not one word in Cyrodiilic or any other mundane language. She can however, speak Faerie fluently, though not all sects of it, as faerie worlds and languages go beyond that of the Mundus, into pocket realms yet to be discovered by mer.

Betony, Southern Docks

"Get that vagrant!" shouted a Wayrestian sailor, a pouch of septims absent at his side. No more than twenty feet ahead, a small youth zoomed through the pier.

The smell of saltwater and fish filled the air. The sun, unnaturally cruel in its sting, could not be escaped from. It already began to take its toll on the poor sailor who was unused to the tropical climate.

Jinjeera, the wolf capped mischief maker, leaped over a crate, dodged a ships crane, and swam through the crowd of people ahead of him.

"Jin! Stop being a nuisance!" shouted an old woman who carried a basket of fish, the boys silhouette was already disappearing in the haze ahead of her. A minute later a tired Breton sailor stumbled through her and knocked down her basket.

"That boy is up to no good....*sigh*"

The young boy, chocolate skinned, lithe, and with an animal like energy in his eyes gave a wide grin as he looked back.

*THUMP*

Jinjeera opened his eyes to find a rather large Redguard standing above him, shirtless and broad like a horse. The man was monstrous in his physique.

"Causing trouble again Jinjeera? Should you not be in class?" The man exhaled from his tobacco pipe, and stroked his beard thoughtfully before reaching down and grabbing the boy by his arm and lifting him to his feet.

"...I...uh..." he looked down to the pouch of coins at his feet. Three septims lay at his feet, enough to feed a man for an entire day. The rest of the pouch was still gripped firmly in his hand.

The large man reached down, grasped the coins and the pouch, sighing. "Jinjeera, the person who these coins belonged to, earned it with honest labor. Just as your father earns coin for you and your mother to eat so has th-"

"Hey thats the river rat who stole muh winnings!" shouted the drunk sailor who walked angrily towards the small boy. Jinjeera, ever the warrior, cowered behind the much larger Ra Gada who simply held out the bag for the man. "I believe this is yours."

The man was prepared to say something that could have possibly got him into more trouble than the situation's worth. "Yes...well...you make sure this doesn't happen again." before quickly turning and running off back to finish his game of dice.

The large man, one Ozvaldo, looked to Jinjeera with a stern expression. "Your mother will not find out about this. Only out of my respect for her feelings. However you will be helping out at the shipwright all week..."

Jinjeera's eyes went distant with the thought of his afternoons being spent carrying wood for the carpenters and builders.

"Mr. Ozvaldo...you can't take up all my afternoons! How will I study?!? I have a gang to ru-"

"Silence boy, lets get you to class."

----------------------------------------------------------
Betony was a trading post, filled with the bustle of the Iliac. Fisherman's huts, trading posts, shops, and large foundries producing gunpowder weaponry and war technology were the remarkable features of the island. Ships of Wayrestian, Aldmeri, Nordic, and Dunmeri designs made way through the harbor. Most notable were Anticlerian and Sentinillean ships dotting the harbors. The Kingdom of Hammerfell protected the isle fiercely, and the navy was constantly patrolling the bay and had permanent residence at the harbor.

The Foundries were all within the main wooden fort of the island. A massive structure raised during the war of Betony which was home to the Governor's villa, the three foundries, and most of the upper class citizen's living areas. Along the country side of the island, huts and a small village, where the island school was located could be found.

The isle of Betony, a small but significantly busy and important area was soon becoming a new jewel of the Iliac.

Betony, fields outside the village

Tancred closed his eyes wearily, exhaling loudly. Though the gentle swaying of tall grass had a calming beauty to it, the burning glare of the sun soon overcame the Anticlerian boy; it didn't help that there was barely any wind today, making the heat all the more unbearable. Even though days in the city could get very warm at times, it didn't compare at all with Betony - the island was plagued by heat of nearly Hammerfellian proportions. It didn't take long for Tancred to wear out and lie down in the grass.

Despite the heat, though, he was really happy with himself. Skipping class was the best decission he'd made in a long time and it seemed that Tancred would have the whole beautiful day to himself; it made him all the more glad when he thought that most kids his age were at school, most likely hard at work... I must be a genius like this. This is brilliant! Even though he had to turn over in the grass to shield his eyes from the sun, as not even shutting them seemed to be doing the trick, and his mother would likely give him Oblivion for dirtying his shirt, right now there seemed to be no way this could get bad.

"Tancred!"

The all-too-familiar voice of his mother made the Anticlerian's eyes fly open, dread suddenly replacing happiness. Tancred could see her approaching through the tall grass, he didn't even need to sit up; neither did Jeanne Clement need her offspring to sit up to see him.

"I knew I'd find you somewhere here the moment I heard you weren't at school! Wait until your father hears of this!"

"Uh... Erm... Hello, mom-"

"Don't 'hello mom' me, young man!" She grabbed Tancred by his ear, forcing him to stand up. "And don't think you can get out of this one, your father will hear of this and then you're not leaving the house for a month!"

"But mom-" The young Anticlerian started, fidgeting with his scarlet cap that he had taken off before lying down and was now holding in his hands. Before Tancred could begin comming up with some sort of a feasible excuse for why he was here instead of at school, though, his mother gave his ear a sharp twist. "Ow, that hurts!"

"That's because it's supposed to hurt! Do you think I should congratulate you on trying to get out of school?! Do you have any idea how much it cost us to get a house so close to it just so you could easily get to and from it?! Your father works his soul out and the least you could do is show some appreciation by not skipping classes! How are you going to get into university if you can't get past school?! You'll be a dock worker and you'll have yourself to thank for!"

"I won't, mom, I'll be a soldier and- OW!" Jeanne was, apparently, at all uninterested in whatever Tancred had to say, twisting his ear again. The pain was enough to squeeze some tears out of the boy.

"I'm not going to hear any of this, you can save it for school when you have to explain where you were when you were supposed to be in class! Don't think you'll get away with this, oh no; I'll make sure you get extra classes and don't have a second of free time until the day you get into the university! Come on, we're getting you where you belong!"

Tancred's parents could get really strict when needed, something that would probably turn out to be for the boy's good; right now, however, as his mother was dragging him back to school (still refusing to let go of his ears and making his face redden with embarassment), he couldn't see how this was any good at all and in fact was far from thankful to his parents. No matter how angry he was at his mother or ashamed that he'd been caught, however, the fear of the moment his father heard about this far surpassed both those emotions. As the pair made their way back to the village, Tancred seriously wished he'd fall through the ground and disappear.

Eltheric Ocean, Off the Coast of Herne

Lieutenant Rashad lowered his spyglass, the island chain of Herne was up ahead. Waves splashed against his ship, the Azure Star. The ship was in impeccable condition. The deck had been holystoned to a white sheen, scoured with sandstone, washed, and repeated. The brass polished until free of smears, shined, and polished once again. The guns of its broadside oiled and cleaned, barnacle free due to a constant scrubbing of the hull, and freshly painted for its arrival in Sentinel. The seven sister ships alongside it were in equally impressive condition. The Royal Navy of Hammerfell took their appearance rather seriously, and word reached them that the Elden Yokeda himself called for an audience with the Captains and Admiral.

The Lieutenant smiled to himself, home was near. He was a middle aged man, with a trim beard, faded hair, and proud look about him. His cloth uniform bore the black and purple of Sentinel's Navy, his boots were polished to a mirror sheen, as well as the brass of handguard of his cutlass. The sails unfurled, he observed his men as his orders were carried out with a quiet professionalism and proficiency. The cargo carried by the Azure Star was vastly more important than that of the others. A section of twenty marines guarded the cargo hold at all times. While other ships carried small artifacts of import, as well as a King's ransom in jewels and rare materials not found in Tamriel. Spices long forgotten and and worth tons in gold were all plentiful.

But the artifact carried by Rashad's ship was of a national importance, historically and practically. Its evil permeated its physical presence however, he could feel its aura of malice even above deck.

"Mr. Donovan, conduct your hourly roving guard...make sure to double check the artifact."

A feeling of unease overcame him, he had an ominous feeling about this assignment. The journey to Yokuda was historic and dangerous...yet he felt the worst was yet to come.

Betony, village

The village school was a fairly modest building, a remnant from the isle's past. Built from large rustic stone blocks, it didn't exactly look that welcoming, being more reminiscent of a chapel; in fact, it used to be that quite some time ago, even before Daggerfall took control of the island after the war with Sentinel, though not for a while now since another house of prayer was built in the main settlement. The main building was pretty poorly lit, with small windows and candles being the only source of illumination. More modern walls built from crude bricks could be found inside the school, dividing it into several rooms - a couple of classes, with the teachers occupying what used to be the priests' quarters.

As Tancred's mother dragged him towards the school by his ear, the boy's heart began beating faster. He couldn't bear being dragged into the class like this; there didn't seem to be any pleasant alternatives in this situation, but that was by far the worst and the most humiliating. But if he could help it, the young Anticlerian wouldn't have to go through something like that, instead opting for a slightly better solution, at least if his plan worked.

"Mom?" He said silently. His mother didn't turn her head, but Tancred could tell she'd heard him. "Mom, can we not go to the headmaster? I swear, I won't ever skip school again, can I just go straight to class?"

Jeanne Clement slowed her step, what seemed like a slight smile crossing her face for a brief moment. "Oh?"

"Yes, mom, I mean it, really!"

"Tancred, that..." Her anger seemed to let up a bit, and for a moment Tancred feared she'd do exactly what he asked her to. However, unexpectedly, she gave his ear another sharp turn. "...is one of the worst ways to get away from something I've heard over the years. You must've inherited that from your father."

Tancred's heart skipped a beat as he thought all was lost now, but, strangely enough, his mother smiled a bit, if only for a very short while.

"I'll take you straight to the headmaster, then, but not as a favour to you, young man, oh no! You still have a lot of explaining to do and I'll only do this because I know mister Haqid will not let you off easily. And neither will Armand, and he'll hear of this first thing when he gets back from the forges."

Though he still felt quite bad, especially because his mother seemed intent on getting this through to Armand Clement - his father - but Tancred could at least take heart from the fact he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of the whole class. He didn't have time to think about this tiny success, or what he'd have to go through when dad got home (which could be whenever, since the job Armand had didn't lend itself well to forming anything resembling a regular schedule - he'd get home one day even before Tancred came back from school, and then he wouldn't be back until well past midnight another). After their short chat, the boy and his mother quickly made their way to the school and, once there, the headmaster's room was only several paces away.

Giving the heavy wooden doors a knock, Jeanne waited for a 'come in' to reach them from the other side before opening the door and shoving Tancred inside. With a gulp, the boy looked up from his feet and at the headmaster, who was sitting behind a table that complemented the door quite nicely, made of the same fairly poor quality wood and being rather heavy and imposing in its construction. The Ra Gada sitting behind it finished scribbling something on some or another document before looking up as well.

Haqid, the headmaster of the island's school, was not a native of Betony. He had settled down there several years ago, apparently having tired of Hammerfell; there were all sorts of (pretty ridiculous) rumours regarding why he did that, ranging from unsuccessful love to a bounty on his head, but Haqid never stepped in to clarify anything, even though he knew quite well what the villagers gossiped about when they ran out of news. The only thing certain about him was that Haqid was a fairly kind aged man who was rather devoted to his job and prefered to keep to himself.

"So, Tancred Clement, is it not?"

"Yes, mister headmaster, sir." Tancred looked down again, prefering to focus on his boots rather than the headmaster's steely gaze. Though usually kind, Haqid wasn't very fond of students who broke the rules of his school.

"I trust you know full well why you're here. Do sit down." Haqid gestured towards a chair. It, like most of the school's inventory, looked old and imposing, but Tancred took a seat anyway, having grown pretty accustomed by now to all the things that looked like they belonged more in a church than a village school. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

OOC: EDIT: Just noticed I completely failed at giving the headmaster a name.

Betony, Village School
Donatello Dovere

Donatello sat against the worn wooden wall with a sigh, laying his stack of textbooks beside him with a gentle hand. The boy rubbed his eyes with the heels of his pale, clean palms, trying to hold back the tears that welled up there. After a few moments he straightened, running his hands through his unruly blonde hair, staring at the plain ceiling with red rimmed eyes. 'Why me?'

"Because you're an idiot, that's why," he muttered to himself, "I don't know why you let Father Daric convince you to stay here. No one likes you, you're just the scrawny chantry kid. And you can't do anything about it..." he trailed off, his eyes growing hot, another round of tears threatening to burst through.

Don fingered the fine white knot at his neck, reminding himself of Mara's love, even for bullies like Jair. Father Daric kept telling him to forgive the other boys, that they'd leave him alone eventually, but so far they showed no signs of getting bored taunting him. And he still had four more years of school left...

The boy was brought out of his self pity by the sound of quick, angry footsteps, quickly accompanied by a child's pained whimpering. Donatello turned towards the noise, just in time to see Tancred being dragged past by the ear. The woman on the other end of that merciless hand must be Tancred's mother, who had apparently just found him out skipping class again. Even though the 'goody little chantry boy' would never do such a thing, he didn't really hold it against the boy; he wouldn't mind skipping on a day like this either. Maybe after class he could go running, so long as the Benevolences didn't need him for some errands again.

"Hey there, little orphan boy, whatcha doin' over here all by yourself?" Don could recognize Jair's voice from all the way across the schoolyard, especially with his two cronies, Hickim and Norbert, chuckling behind him. The big Raga boy stepped right in front of Donatello, Hick and Norb framing him on either side, cutting off any possible escape. How did he let them get so close without noticing them? Tancred must have distracted him; usually he managed to run off before the three older boys cornered him.

"Well, you gonna answer me?" Jair asked, leaning over Donatello, his rancid tobacco breath washing over him, making his eyes water. 'Just ignore him,' Don thought to himself, trying to turn away from those dark, cold eyes.

"Aw look, little chantry boy's gonna cry!" Hick, Jair's constant companion and barely older than Don, shouted, laughing. Don hid his slate gray eyes behind his wide white sleeve, turning away from the trio, trying to stand up and get away.

Norb, Jair's other friend- a Breton- pushed him back onto the bench, a smirk filling his chubby face. Don fell back, hard, his head hitting the worn wooden wall, bright stars filling his eyes as pain blossomed out from his skull. He couldn't help it, he started sobbing loudly, holding the back of his head, rocking back and forth on the wooden bench.

Distantly, through his own cries, he heard Norb laughing. "Shut up you idiot!" Jair yelled. Norb must have stopped, but Don still heard his big, stupid, snorting laughs, slipping past the pain in his head, filling him with white hot anger. It only hurt worse that there was nothing he could do about it.

"Hey, I think he might really be hurt..." Hick's voice; Don had never heard him concerned before. Not for him, at least. None of them had ever cared about him.

"Let's get out of here," Jair said. He almost sounded afraid. Probably more about getting in trouble than whether or not Don was really hurt; same old Jair at least. Don saw two blurry shapes through his tears, running down the hall, the third still hunched over him. "C'mon Hick, let's go!" The third shape took off after the first two, leaving Donatello alone, curled up on the bench, tears staining his thin face.

'Why me?'

Southwestern Docks, Isle of Betony

Raig threw the Apple core into the Iliac Bay. The green object bobbed in the water, with the otherbits of rubbish and food that had collected on the edge of the harbour. Raig exhaled contently as he lay back onto the warm wooden boards of the Betony docks. Despite being dirt poor, parentless and living in a crudely built Lean-To, Raig was happy with his lot. He had a small group of friends, a regular income - theiving - and no-one to boss him around.

It was still rather early in the day, and the residents in the houses on the other side of the street were just starting to get up. The Southwestern Docks were the 'upper class' docks, the houses of the rich shipowners, company directors and providores lived. It was tacked on to the rich part of town as well, so even the [censored]house was clean and tidy. It was also where the passenger ships came in, large ships, carrying wealthy passengers who were tired from their long journeys. This meant that they were a bit careless of where they held their purses, making them easy targets for smalltime thieves like Raig.

A ball off somesort woke Raig from his nap. "Ship arriving today" Said the dark skinned boy, his name was Michalle, and he was probably Raig's closest friend. They befriended each other when Raig first arrived in Betony and still went to school. They were both new to the island, and fathers were both in the sea trade, except that Michalle's dad was employed by the harbormaster, and therefore knew what ships were coming and going.
"Ain't that an ev'ryday thing" replied Raig.
"Its not yer everyday ship. Cruise liner from Leyawiin, fulla' Nobles" Michalle explained, this made Raig's ears [censored] up. He heaved himself up.
"Nobles are rich"
"Cunning observation, Raig." Michalle retorted. He paused for a second, thinking. "Valets. We pretend to be Valets. Cart the rich peoples stuff around, and then take it back to me room, stash it there." That was the great thing about Michalle's father, he was completely oblivious to his sons activities. In fact, he thought Michalle was at school all day, whereas the boy was off cuttting purses with his friends.
"Won't they find us out 'do? Me clothes ain't that ones of a rich sea captains whippin' boy. And me appearance." Raig questioned
"I'm not like you, Orphan boy. I have spare clothes. And we can comb them knots out of yer' hair."

---

Raig felt odd. These were the first clean clothes he'd worn in years, and his hair was tied back in a rogue knot. He felt stiff and snooty. Michalle pointed to an Imperial couple in fine robes and waving fans in front of their faces, they were also lugging two heavy looking suitcases "Those two".

The two Redguard boys scuttled over to the Imperials. Michalle did the talking. "Excuse me, milord, milady." He bowed. Raig followed suit. "You look flustered, we are valets, and we would be happy to relieve you of your load. If you wouldn't mind?" Michalle motioned towards the suitcases.
"Hmmm..." The man said tiredly "Oh... *yawn, yes. My wife and I would be very grateful. We are heading for the... ah... the.... The Gleaming Emerald Inn. We know the way, so, uh, we'll meet you there" The Imperial man dropped the suitcases onto the ground, and he and his wife began dawdling toward the Inn.
Stupid trusting Nobles Thought Raig, But Michalle seemed more distressed, "My house is in plain sight of the Gleaming Emerald, Raig."
"Can't we take 'em to me shack fer the time bein'?" The boys both laughed, the suitcases wouldn't last 5 minutes in the Lean-To, let alone on the way there. "But, seriously... What do we do? We can't wait, dem rich folk will get weary."
"Hmmm... Howsabout we just take 'em behind a warehouse? No-one there but Skooma-svckers." Michalle suggested.
"Yeah... why not." Raig agreed.

The boys followed the Imperials for about halfway, and then took off down an alleyway. It was hard running carrying the heavy luggage, clonking around and hitting the boys legs, just about making them trip. After about three minutes of running, the boys were in the industrial part of town, around all the workshops and warehouses. They skidded to a halt, dirtying the white clothes. Thankfully, the cases weren't locked, and were opened with a simple latch. Inside, however, at first sight, it all looked like clothing, nothing any 11 year old boys were interested in, no silverware or anything. Except, a small sack. Raig pulled it out, and boy it was heavy for its size.
"What do ya' thinks inside?" Raig inquired.
"I don't care, just open the blasted thing!" Michalle replied.
Raig pulled the drawstring, opening the sack. The boys stared in awe. It was so bright, it almost hurt there eyes. Gold. Jewellery. Jewels. Rings. Amulets. Necklaces. Emeralds. Topaz. Sapphire. And, Gold!
The boys almost yelped in delight! Stupid, stupid, stupid Imperials! The boys laughed as they filled their pockets to the brim with gold and jewels, and decorated their hands and necks with the jewellery.
"How much do ya think its worth?!" Michalle asked.
"Thousands, probably! Enough to buy me own house, and, and me own slaves! And happiness!" The boys were smiling ear to ear, thinking they were the luckiest boys in the world.

However, there happiness was crushed when they heard a woman bellow "Thieves!" It was the Imperial woman from the cruiser, she must of figured out that they'd been duped, and was looking around the city. The boys ran for it, Raig going one way, Michalle going the other.
Raig dashed through alleyways, and hid in dark Alcoves, guards were now involved, and he could hear them in their armour, trotting around, looking for the boys. Raig was sweating profusely, and was getting short on breath. He would have to give up soon. There, the Rabid Rat Tavern, his lean-to was just around the corner. Raig sprinted as hard as he could, and jumped into the opening. Raig pulled the cover-curtain shut, and started digging a hole. Once it was about a foot deep, Raig put all the rings and gems and gold in the hole, scrambled to fill it up, and pulled his bedroll over it.
Raig pulled down his hair, and put on his other clothes, which hid conveniently taken back to his 'shack'.

As he snuck around corners, he'd made it to the town square, just in time to see Michalle thrashed by a guard. After the thrashing, the guard took Michalle away, Raig followed the guard to the school, the guard explained Michalle's tardiness to the teacher, who placed him by a window.
Raig saw this because he was outside, crouched down underneath the window. Michalle sat down with a huff.
"Psst... Michalle." Raig hissed, Michalle moved his eyes downward. "You okay?"
"Of course I'm not okay! i was just caned in front of half the city! And now I'm going to get caned again, because I can't write! Now go away!" Spat Michalle, who was holding back tears.
Raig skulked off, looking at the doors of the school. In a way, he wished he still went there, as he was embarrassed by his lack of knowledge. He pulled a Granny Smith Apple of the tree growing out the front of the school, and sat down on the fence, muching on his Apple, and sobbing quietly. Today has been a disaster

OOC: What an odd word to censor.

(OOC: Sorry, completely forgot about this. Anyway;)

Courier's Office, Isle of Betony

"Right then, the big package goes to the Rathri family, they live near the docks, it's the big place with all the mushrooms growing in the garden. I'll never understand what it is with those Dunmer and mushrooms but anyway, ask for Valvesu, think that one's female. Did you get all that? Tell me what I just said" said Postmaster Jadier Desele.

"Yeah, Valvesu Rathri at the mushroom house wants the big box" said Charlette eagerly, wishing the Postmaster would stop treating her like she was an idiot and just give her the packages. While even she knew she wasn't the brightest Breton on the island she was still capable of delivering boxes around the place and didn't feel she deserved to be treated like she was too dumb to understand basic instructions.

"Good. Now, this package needs to go to to the pub, The Gleaming Emerald. You've delivered there before so you know where it is. Now repeat what I just told you" said the Postmaster, apparently ignoring but more likely not noticing Charlette's visible wince at being told to repeat what he said after every single thing he told her. Charlette thought he couldn't notice anything that could offend him and just wrote it out of his reality. That might be something worth experimenting with once she got back, she thought.

"Big round thing to the Gleaming Emerald" said Charlette, wondering why the pub wanted a shield. "And the little package?"

"That's not a delivery, that's something I might give to you if you do this job well. Now, the Dunmers need to pay twenty drakes and the pub landlord pays twelve. What did I just say?"

"Big package twenty gold, little one twelve" said Charlette, who knew the rules governing the packages prices by heart and didn't need telling "Can I go now?"

"Go on then, see you later" said the Postmaster, hanging the smaller, round package on Charlette's back while she carried the bigger one in her arms. "Don't be too late" he said to her back as she ran out of the building, glad to be getting out into the sun again.

Blinking in the sunlight Charlette made her way towards the 'mushroom house' so she could be rid of the bigger package as soon as possible, even though the pub was nearer to the office. She wanted to run but even she knew it was a bad idea to run with such a big package after the time she'd tripped over and smashed both the contents of the package (which she'd had to pay for out of her own pay) and her face, which needed specialist attention from a mage who had to be brought in by boat from the mainland since Betony didn't seem to have mages. That had always puzzled Charlette, even more than everything else tended to. Bretons were the most magical race that wasn't elven, so why did a whole island of Bretons shy away from magic? She suspected that she knew more magic than most of the people on this island and she only knew one spell. She wanted to use it but she needed her hands free, that was another reason to get rid of the bigger package. She liked the local Dunmer community, they always had time for her and weren't anything like the xenophobic and miserable stereotype. Her Dunmer friends assured her that it was mostly Vvardenfellian Dunmer who were like that and Dunmer from almost anywhere else were normally nice people.

While she'd been thinking about magic and Dunmers she hadn't realised she was being followed by three men who were probably thieves in this part of town, although she couldn't see what race of men they were. She quickened her pace and hoped they wouldn't realise they'd been spotted since that tended to make them more likely to attack. I need to pay more attention, thought Charlette who hadn't realised she'd wandered into the back alleys by mistake. At least the Rathri house wasn't too far away, Mrs Rathri would be able to protect her from these thieves, she thought. She chanced a look behind her and noticed that the three men were starting to pull weapons from various hiding places and now that they were closer she could see that they were a Nord, a Breton and an Imperial. She now ran as fast as she could towards the alley exit but only made it halfway before she tripped and landed on the package she was carrying. Before she curled up into a ball and prepared to be mugged she noticed that the package didn't smash.

"GET AWAY FROM HER, S'WIT!" and a flash of red light over her head followed by some screaming and groaning suggested to her that she might have been saved by one of the Dunmer women that lived in the area. As she stood up she met the eyes of Tanusea Girinith from the house next door to the Rathri family looting the bodies. That didn't surprise her, it was practically legal to take things from defeated enemies around here as is. She thanked Tanusea and walked the rest of the way to the Rathri's house feeling safer but still shaken to deliver the package that turned out to be a new pair of heavy boots. No wonder they hadn't smashed. Charlette spent a little time with Mrs Rathri until she felt better then headed towards the pub to deliver her second package.

The School

"Jinjeera...thank you for joining our class today. This is not the first time you have been tardy and I am afraid it shows in your work. Unfortunately you have an exam." the words seething with venom came from the malicious instructor who Jinjeera believed nothing more than tests and history. In actuality he was just an honest instructor hoping to make the most out of his students. The Rascals of Betony were a difficult bunch however. His 'fro of hair and large mustache sported on his tanned skin had given a rather mundane and harmless appearance to the man. It were his eyes that gave away his wisdom. He was an older Breton, deep blue eyes filled with knowledge, his impression was of a man who had witnessed much yet and wished to simply pave the path for the future.

Ozvaldo, the massive sailor who had brought Jinjeera to school looked to the boy and then nodded to the Professor. "Mister Llevu." The professor returned the nod.

Jinjeera gulped. He looked to the class around him, they must have been given a short reprieve for a good deal of the children were not in class.

"Please Jinjeera, sit. Take Quil and parchment, mark your name along with the date."

"Mr. Llevu...I'm not feeling a test today...I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit si-"

The Professor's eyes snapped into his intense stare, one that had put all children in his class in check at one point.

Students began to file in the class, smiling Breton girls dressed in their rather beautiful clothing, Anticlerite boys tanned from the sun and with somewhat combed hair, Ra Gada sons and daughters with pride to them...those were the children of soldiers or the Governor.

Jair, one of the more annoying and bully kids in class entered absent books, just like Jinjeera, but lacking the boys intelligence...he saw no hope for his exam.

The loud and rather large boy plopped into the desk behind him. Quill gripped in frustration as he felt the bullies hot breath hitting his back. Instantly he poked Jinjeera's back.

"I need ink."

Tall Papa...please save me from going crazy today

Betony, village school

Tancred left the headmaster's room quite sullen. Not only had he been caught skipping class, apparently they were having an exam which he would've missed. The fact he tried to get out of school one way or another didn't help his case any and now it seemed he was in real trouble - Haqid assured him that if this behaviour continued, the young Anticlerian would be expelled despite his good grades. Tancred knew all too well that if something like that happened, his parents would probably disown or at least skin him; they cared a whole lot about the boy's future and to get into the University he couldn't afford to drop out of school.

Squeezing his cap angrily, Tancred proceeded down the corridor. No more fun I guess. Do they want me to be like Don? He's boring; priests are boring. I want to be a soldier, not some goody-goody. Fight and adventure and travel... Being a kid stinks. Grown ups get all the fun. He desperately wanted to kick something, but decided against venting his anger on the wall - the only thing that'd achieve would be breaking his toe. Knowing his luck today, he'd probably still have to take the exam even if he did.

Remembering the exam made him quicken his pace. He was already late and the headmaster assured him he'd be getting no extra time, on the grounds that it was Tancred's own fault he was late so it was time for him to face the consequences of his actions. And he hadn't even studied... What would it be about? History seemed most likely. The War of Betony, Direnni Empire, those kind of things. He rather liked history, but always struggled to remember names and dates. Trying hard to recall who was the king of Sentinel during the war, Tancred took a turn that would lead him into class. What he came upon, however, made him completely forget the war and the exam itself.

Donatello, the rather boring boy from the Benevolence of Mara, was curled up on the bench, apparently having again been beaten up by Jair and his bunch. It seemed to have gone different this time, though - he was holding the back of his head and crying, the pain apparently bad enough to keep him down. Damn damn damn... For a moment, Tancred froze, unsure as to whether he should run away, try to help or get one of the teachers. He wished he knew some Restoration magick, alas he hadn't yet been tutored in its use; he only had a vague idea about when he would learn about it, but from what he understood, it'd only be at the University that he received any instruction in its use. So right now, he felt pretty useless and scared. He might've not liked Don that much - no one really did - but he didn't want anything bad to happen to him. What if he wouldn't be alright?

"Don, I'll get someone! Hold still!" Not too sure whether Donatello could hear him or not, Tancred nevertheless decided he'd better be safe than sorry, before darting off in the direction of the class where he was supposed to be having his exam, the first place that popped into his head. It only took a couple of moments to make it to the door; scared as he was, Tancred didn't stop to knock as he would usually have when late.

"Ah, Tancred, decided to join us, have yo-" Professor Llervu began angrily, however the Anticlerian cut him off:

"Mr Llervu, sir, quick! It's Don, he's down the hall, I don't know what happened but he looks really really bad! I think he might be bleeding or something!" Though Tancred hadn't actually seen any blood himself, his vivid imagination had taken the liberty of adding this detail to the already rather bad scene.

Cave off the Coast of Daggerfall, The Iliac Bay

It was a perfect area to hide a few smaller ships or one rather large frigate. The bay ran into the cave and was deep enough to provide cover from patrolling navy.

Within the cave was an obsidian frigate, a Dragon ram at its stern. The men aboard were of an otherworldly sort.


"My men are on Betony as we speak, preparations have been made. Carrier pigeon says the ships will arrive within the next two hours." The man wore the eccentric dress of Wayrest. A musketeer's hat with a crimson peacock feather stemmed from it, a black cloak, scarlet cravat, and silken pants tailored to his fit. Black gloved hands held onto twin rapiers, one sporting a jeweled skull ring. He was a Breton with a trimmed mustache. One of the more famous pirates in Highrock. The men he spoke to however made the man very uncomfortable.

The cave carried a small echo, but the men had no fear of being caught in discussion. No one would know of what they spoke.

Three plumb shaped Breton men who came from rather privileged backgrounds looked at the pirate with a cruel smile.


"It is good to know you have things in good order Mr. Black. Since we agreed upon quite the substantial sum in Imperial gold, I am sure your services will be more than sufficient for the task at hand. However it is my employers desire that you personally oversee the operation yourself."

A winced eye was the initial reply.

"Of course."

Betony, Village School

"Mr Llervu, sir, quick! It's Don, he's down the hall, I don't know what happened but he looks really really bad! I think he might be bleeding or something!"

Professor Llervu looked at the boy with a mixture of shock and annoyance. Shock at what Tancred had said, and a lingering anger for his late arrival. Don, however, was always a model student, if a bit odd. "What?! What happened?" the teacher exclaimed, dropping his pen and taking a few quick steps towards the door.

"I don't know," the boy said, his blue eyes wide with fear, "I just found him crying on the bench, holding his head. It looks pretty bad." The whole of the class had their attention on the pale Breton now. The professor would rather just give the exam and be done with it, but there was little he could do if the orphan boy really was hurt.

'Probably Jair again. Stupid kids, always fighting, making my life miserable.' Llervu swept past Tancred, telling the children to settle down and be quiet before closing the door. With a sharp glance at Tancred, the teacher followed the sound of Don's cries to the bench the Breton had mentioned. The thin monk still had his head between his hands, tears streaming down his thin face. Professor Llervu really did have a soft spot for children, despite how much trouble they caused.

"Easy, Don, it's okay. You'll be just fine." The teacher wrapped an arm around the boy, gently prying his fingers away from his head, feeling the knobbly bump that was already forming there. No blood- thank the Nine- but it couldn't hurt to have him healed. Don didn't have any meddling parents to report this to the city, but the Benevolences contributed a good portion of their collections to the school; he wouldn't want any of them to think he wasn't taking care of his students.

Don looked up at him, still blubbering, wiping the snot away from his nose. 'Disgusting,' the professor thought, but gave the boy a small hug regardless. Don really was one of his favorite pupils, despite his tendency to stare out the window and daydream all class. Usually he already knew the lesson from his reading anyway.

"Tancred, take Don to the chantry for healing; it's just a bump, but I'm sure they'd appreciate it if you could walk him over." Llervu stood up, looking the Breton boy in the eye. It probably meant he wouldn't get him back for his exams, but truth be told the teacher couldn't care less if the boy failed. His mother might give the school another earful, but the headmaster could deal with that when the time came. Besides, he still had an exam to give.

"Here, Don, come now, you'll be fine." The professor helped the blonde boy to his feet, his face still wet with tears, and brought him over to Tancred. "Go straight to the chantry, Tancred, and come straight back after you make sure Don is alright." Llervu doubted he would, but he had a whole class of children to worry about already. After giving Don a final encouraging pat on the shoulder, the professor strode back down the hall and turned the corner back to his room.

OOC: I tried to control him as little as possible, PFA, I hope that was what you had in mind. And sorry if you wanted to join us, Story, I just wanted to get the whole post done with. You could probably still post escaping the room once Llervu left, and then sneaking over to join Tancred and Don before they set out for the chantry. Oh, and I figured that was a better location than a generic healer, since I already had names and a decent idea of what the place was like. Thanks

Betony, village school

Having gotten over the initial fear, Tancred observed professor Llervu inspect Don with a bit of interest. Though the Breton still felt a bit afraid, apparently his teacher found nothing seriously wrong with Don, managing to get him to get up from the bench. His concern for the older child's age was soon replaced with joy, however, as Llervu instructed him to bring the would-be monk to the chantry so he could be healed. The Anticlerian conveniently didn't hear the part about getting back for the exam, deciding to himself this meant he could be excused from at least that for all this trouble. His ear still hurt, serving as a reminder he probably shouldn't skip the rest of the classes afterwards, but there was no way anyone would stop him from taking his time getting to the chantry and back; just enough to skip the exam.

"Alright, Don, let's get going then, right?" Feeling a bit uncertain about how he should treat the mixed-race kid in his current state, Tancred decided that the best course of action would be to just act semi-normal, perhaps a bit more friendly than usual. He didn't often talk with the Benevolence child, prefering to keep to his rather small circle of friends - most of them Anticlerians as well - but, asides from considering him too goody-goody to make a good friend, had little against Don. Little enough not to consider the way Jair and his little gang constantly terrorized him funny in the slightest.

Tilting his head, Tancred looked at the taller, older boy for a moment, trying to figure out how to go about this exactly. "So, um... Can you walk? I mean, on your own?" Though he was older, Don's light frame meant Tancred would've had little trouble supporting his weight if needed. He would've prefered not to, though, and was hoping he'd get a positive answer to the question posed.

ooc: Actually I have to apologize, as I'll be asking the thread to be locked, I'll be ending the roleplay. While I was very excited about what was planned for this roleplay, I was even more excited on developing the actual "main" storyline of Tamriel within the timeline. Thank you all for participating.

Close requested.