OOC: I'm going to go ahead and provide a nice excuse for Maglir to notice Sirius if he's still insdie that is.

IC:
Sirius: Morrowind: Balmora

There was almost too much Chaos for Sirius to keep track of, but surprisingly enough he had found himself in so many situations like this before.
He could feel the orc's hot breath on his face, see every pore of his skin and every tiny chip in his teeth.
"You will die." He spat.
These hunters were appalling. They had no idea how to track and kill a vampire and for that reason Sirius felt sorry for them.
"You are the disgusting spawn of Mehrunes Dagon, demons from oblivion!"

Sirius did nothing except stare deep into the orc's eyes as though seeing his very soul. He was very misguided, Dagon had absolutely nothing to do what vampires, they weren't his style.

Suddenly the orc's eyes became startled as a guard grabbed him by the shoulders and wrenched him off Sirius.
"I do apologise sir." He said, shoving the orc towards a couple of other guards. "He didn't... oh what happened to your eye, was it this scum?"
Sirius stood up and brushed himself down, flicking some flecks of dirt from his waistcoat.
"No no, I used to be in the legion, many moons ago. I was unlucky enough to be shot in the eye with an arrow. They wouldn't let me fight any more with only one eye working."
"Ah, they can be a bit cruel like that" The guard nodded, completely buying into Sirius' smooth lie. "We've been keeping our eye on this bunch for a couple of weeks now, they've been gathering here in Balmora for some reason, seem to think themselves vampire hunters, and they're not very good ones at that."

The orc growled.
"He's a vampire you fools!" He nodded his head in the direction of Sirius, as a couple of other guards had hold of both his arms. The guard's eyes all swivelled towards Sirius.
"You can't go round accusing people of being vampires, get that scum out of my sight." The guards promptly lead the orc towards the door. The room was mostly empty now, but something that caught Sirius' eye was a trail of blood leading out the back door. He didn't look for too long in case someone noticed him looking.

"Pity about Arvisi Dralas." The guard said aloud, walking towards her and pulling the bolt from her neck. "I liked her."
Sirius fancied he could hear a mournful tone in the guard's voice. He said nothing; he needed to tell Acerbus about the blood trail, that necromancer had disappeared pretty swiftly from the scene as well.
"Do you mind if I wait here a while until the commotion outside has died down?" Sirius asked the guard.
"You're ok to stay for a while. But we're going to need to get this place cleaned up, the Dancing Guar provides Balmora with a reasonable amount of money so the sooner we can get it running again the better."
Sirius nodded and sat down at a table that was not turned over.

Balmora: Outside the Dancing Gaur

Outside, the guards were just managing to round up the hunters and drag them to the prison. They had left quite a few casualties in their desperation to kill Sirius and Acerbus and a couple of people from the Temple were rushing to the club to heal the wounded and pray for the dead.

Maglir relaxed slightly when he saw that the guards had taken command of the situation, and were escorting the orc out of the building by the time Maglir made his way over there. The Bosmer overheard the elf's conversation with the guard through the lessening commotion, and the ensuing guard's comments about the dead singer. He found himself caring less and less about her, there were plenty of beautiful elves in Morrowind. And besides, the guards would no doubt have the orc hung for the crime, no use staying worked up about it.

"Do you mind if I wait here a while until the commotion outside has died down?" The elf asked the guard, who had gone over to check on the Dunmer.

"You're ok to stay for a while. But we're going to need to get this place cleaned up, the Dancing Guar provides Balmora with a reasonable amount of money so the sooner we can get it running again the better."

The elf promptly pulled a chair out from a nearby table, looking strangely calm amongst the wreckage and dying chaos. The uproar had been settled quietly, and without much involvement from Maglir, but it had surprised him nonetheless.

The Bosmer eyed the elf suspiciously from a safe distance, checking over everything from the silver swords he wore to his strangely colorless eye. As Maglir looked the elf over, he began to notice several discrepancies: his unusually aged appearance, pasty skin, and that eerie left eye. As the elf opened his mouth ever so slightly for breath, Maglir could not help but smile himself at the fangs he bore, 'A fellow vampire. And that eye... could he be?'

His suspicions confirmed, he decided to try something rather rash, not uncommon for him. He dispelled the illusion hiding his fangs and eyes, keeping his skin a normal color so as not to attract too much suspicion, and began walking towards the elf. He drew back the chair opposite the vampire and softly glided into it, bearing his fangs in an amused smile, his crimson eyes flashing with silent laughter.

"Good evening, Moon Eye. I do not believe we've met. I am Maglir, travelling gentleman, and if you would be so kind as to entertain my questions for a moment, I believe we shall both profit from the venture."

Hans Svenson, Balmora, Outside the Dancing Guar

Just before the brawling occurred a young boy, around eleven years of age, had been hanging around outside the Dancing Guar. He'd seen everything from his sitting place on the side of a house wall; the Altmeri man with his dog that was bigger than the boy, paralyzing the bouncer; the little elf that had walked in; and two men decked in Netch leathers and armed.

Hans hated the Orc and Redguard, and their several consorts, the moment he laid his steel feline-esque eyes on them from where he sat. They were strong, handsome men of young, foolish ages; heroes, no doubt, and some entered the bar, likely to go watch the beautiful Arvisi Dralas. Hans despised them for being everything he wasn't. They got to go around parading about looking like heroes, they got respect for their abilities and apparent skill, and they could go in that Tavern and watch Arvisi. Hans was in a deep crush over such a beautiful Dunmer woman, but the last time he'd gone through a back wall to sneak into the bar, a bouncer found him, and not-so-nicely tossed him into the street again.

For a boy on the streets, Hans didn't look too bad off. Decent but worn leather boots with deerskin breeches tucked into them and held to his thin waist by a black belt. A nice tan cotton shirt, with a few dirt splotches -expect of a child's shirt no less- was tucked into the pants. A steel shortsword and dagger hung on the belt, as well. His right arm fiddled with a waterskin wrapped over his shoulder, and he took a swig from it, glaring at the men. When he was done he rested his waterskin on the iron shield in his lap, and capped it.

It was not the ordinary Iron shield though; this was a burnished and beaten shield, painted finely and textured to look almost like pure wood. After all, what else would a child use as a shield, and who would suspect a vampire to carry wood?

That's what Hans was; a child forever forced to be just that. He would never die a natural death, never grow grey hairs and aging wrinkles, never age. His chest would never be as hairy as the Nord he now watched, who was standing there with a battle axe on one shoulder, his puff of chest hair protruding from a leather vest. He would never gain the musculature of that Nordic warrior, despite being a Nord himself. For forty years he'd been trapped in this child's body, in a child's life.

I should look just like him right now... Hans growled to himself. And in that instant, as if the growl was the signal, chaos erupted inside the Dancing Guar. People ran screaming from the tavern of a murder, saying Arvisi was dead. Hans' anger welled even greater and he rose, the cloth that had rested between him and the wall flaring out to reveal itself to be a traveling cloak. But it was bunched up at his shoulders, hiding much of his neck, and fluttered behind him like a superhero cape as he drew his shortsword in a snarl.

The men who had been standing outside sprang into action, swords and axes flying and attacking the people. "What are you doing?!" Hans screamed, his anger now a tantrum of hate. But this was not a child's innocent hate; this was the hatred of the fifty one year old vampire within. None of the men seemed to hear him, and Hans' eyes widened as the Nord brought up his axe to cleave at an Imperial who had just rushed from the bar.

In an instant Hans was there, his shield between him and the Nordic warrior, and his shortsword pointing over the shield at the axe-wielder. The man, dressed in typical Balmoran finery, looked horrified and tried to brush the child aside, but the Nord had stopped his swing and Hans was not budging.

"I won't let you do this!" Hans snarled at the Nord, who burst out laughing.

"Good luck kid. I'm a man on a mission." The Nord snapped back, and twisted himself to swing over the child and cleave the man across the waist. He never made the cut. Hans kicked back, taking the man in the gut, knocking the wind out of him, and collapsing him. As the axe cut the air over his head, Hans rushed forward beneath it and slipped his sword up through the gap between leather vest and girdle.

Warm, thick blood fell like a waterfall over his hand as the Nord gasped, chocked, dropped the axe -the head of which fell on the toe of the man he was attacking- and went limp over Hans. The Nordic vampire grinned, twisting the blade and making the Nord wheeze his last breath. With a fluid tug the sword slipped out of the corpse and Hans looked up to see the guards coming to the scene. Hans knew that even in an act of self defense, a killing was a killing, but he might get let go for being a child and even managing it; there were benefits to his youth.

Of course, Hans was not about to risk it, and the blood that painted his entire shortsword looked very, very appetizing to a vampire who had not drank in three days time. So the vampire left the scene as soon as he arrived, leaving the man nursing his broken toes and wondering who the heck that kid was. Only the fluttering of his green travel cloak and the slack cloth of his gray headband in the alley was a sign of his leaving that the guards might have caught; but the moment he was in darkness the vampire utilized his full speed capabilities, and got himself a nook in a wall not too far, but far enough, from the scene.

Scanning the alley with his cat-like eyes for privacy, the boy grinned and sat cross-legged, holding the bloodied shortsword like a frozen treat on a stick. His tongue gently grazed over the metal surface, eliciting a 'mmm' from the Nord as he savored the still warm blood.

Darion, Balmora.

"Well I hope you're happy," Darion grumbled to the Hlaalu guard, brushing off his denim jacket with more than a hue of irritation. "You Dunmer...even when I'm not breaking the law, your lot are nothing but kill-joys."

"Keep it to yourself, outlander," the Dunmer grumbled back, voice gravelly. "Consider yourself lucky I'm not charging you with disturbing the peace, or the like." The guard motioned to the waterlogged wooden door on the ground next to him. "Damn Imperials."

Darion rolled his eyes in silence, moving off from the guard and his abandoned water craft. He supposed if he was going to find any more entertainment tonight, he'd have to pay for it. Ah well, he thought to himself as he neared the 'Dancing Guar' (which was an interesting mental image). If there's one good thing to be said about the Dunmer, they certainly know how to-

Darion turned to corner to the bar.

"Party," he finished out loud.

A group of guards were arrayed outside the club, dealing with what looked like injured people, and even bodies. There was blood on the ground, too. Darion stepped towards the nearest guard, who looked up from his duties to the scruffy Imperial.

"What in the name of Arkay's lofty beard is going on?" Darion asked curiously, looking to the Hlaalu. He'd seen bar brawls before...hell, he'd started a few of them. But this was, well, a little much.

"Nothing to see here, Human," the guard replied bluntly, offering no further explanation. "Move along." Darion nodded, as if understanding, and waited for the guard to return to his duties. The whole lot of them were so caught up in whatever it was they were doing that they didn't notice Darion slip by, entering the club unnoticed.

It was a mess, that was for sure. Turned over tables, busted furniture and blood littered the joint. Darion turned his attention to the bar. It would almost be a crime in itself, if something good didn't come of this, he thought to himself.

The Imperial lept deftly over the counter, taking up the position the bartender normally would have occupied. Completely without shame, he took the liberty of pouring himself a tall glass of ale; a particularly strong Nordic brew, Darion thought happily. Taking notice of a pair of Elfs sitting in the bar, in the only table that had yet to be turned over, Darion rose his glass in what could only be described as genuinely good spirits, despite the circumstances.

"Cheers, friends," Darion offered to the Elvish duo, before taking a swig of the brew.

Elliana, Applewatch, Cyrodiil

Elliana was making her way to the stairs when a Bosmer woman nearly walked into her. She stopped, catching herself on the wall. It was the kind of behavior she expected from the upper class folk she had grown up with, so she didn't let it bother her too much.

"Oups excuse me. I was in such a hurry to clean up and get soaked in a bath I didn't pay attention," the Bosmer said.

"Don't worry about it ma'am," Elliana said humbly.

Trying to dodge more conversation Elliana went up the stairs without another word. Her door creaked open as she pulled on, and did the same as she closed it. Without a second thought she locked the door, the deadbolt making a distinct 'clunk'. She took a seat on her bed and began to pull her boots off. As she did so, she looked out the window, the moon was almost full.

Almost time for the Hunt, she thought to herself rather disgustedly.

Once she was bitten many things changed. She hated watching the moon become full now, and also hated what she became and often times the destruction that followed. She also hated being hunted and wanted throughout much of northern Cyrodiil. Although she was wanted by the legion, she was able to bypass most of the patrols, either by hiding or because they didn't recognize her.

Elliana hardly recognized herself either, after her first transformation her face had become more angular and wolf-like than before. She had also cut her hair shorter than it had been, just to help hide her identity from someone that might recognize her. These changes were the only thing she liked about being a werewolf, and she didn't mind the heightened senses.

A burning sensation pulled her away from her thoughts. She yanked her left glove off and looked at the silver ring that lay on her finger. Her family crest, a winged shield with stars on it, had been pressed into the metal. It was one of her few reminders that she was still nobility. Giving it one more glance she stuffed it into her pack.

Elliana pulled off her other boot, glove, and sword, setting them at the foot of the bed. Then she pulled the warm covers over her and drifted into sleep as she watched, through the window, the snow slowly fall. Her dreams were not as peaceful though, they were confusing and often the Breton man and the Bosmer woman kept appearing.

Sondil, Balmora.





The chaos died down and onlookers slowly started going back to whatever it was they where doing before the sudden eruption of violence from the Dancing Guar, Sondil had gone unnoticed by every one he passed as he trundled through the city on his newly acquired cart.

However, he didn't leave the city limits as planned, instead he looped around the temple and started back on the approach to the Dancing Guar, guided by a sudden brain wave Oberon had just had. He had been working part time as a Coroner for the healers at the temple, he could correctly identify a cause of death or injury which could lead to a possible arrest for the city guard or simple peace of mind for the deceased loved ones. As he neared the club a guard stepped out in front of him with a hand held out gesturing for him to stop, and when he did he approached with a suspicious look on his face.

"Making deliveries at this time? What's in the back?" He asked, not making eye contact with Sondil, instead he was glancing at the covered cart and back at Oberon every few seconds, who was sat with his drooling face just inches from the Guards.

"Corpses are in the back, but don't worry they are very fresh." Sondil said matter-of-factly, the guard placed a hand on his weapon with a horrified look on his face, taking a few steps back to avoid any retribution of his hostility from Oberon. "I've been sent by the temple, I work for them in the mortuary. They can vouch for me, they have all my employment details as well." He added hastily under Oberon's encouragement.

"Bodies? Why have they sent you?" The guard asked with every indication that he found Sondil's story suspect, his face a deep sketch of scepticism.

"Yes, bodies. I have been sent to collect the dead from the scene, the ones the healers couldn't save. They will be moved to the temple undercroft where I can study them and determine cause of death, then you can make arrests accordingly." He said with a mock tone of impatience, he never got impatient, it was one of the advantages of being mentally addled and blessed with a long life expectancy, he had time and logic on his side.

"Wait here a moment." The guard replied as he walked off into the crowd, his hand still on the hilt of his sword. Sondil sat watching events transpiring, he even spotted a child stabbing a Nord twice his size before running off. My what is the world coming to, young people causing such mayhem is madness. he thought to himself just as the Guard re-emerged with a Bosmer healer by his side.

"Do you recognise this man?" He asked the healer, who looked both overworked and nervous, his hands and robes where covered in blood and other not-so-glamorous bodily fluids. He glanced at Sondil for a second then at Oberon and his eyes lit up with recognition.

"Ah yes, Sondil Telind if I remember correctly. Yes, he works for the tribunal temple on lease from the Imperial cult who are leasing him from the mages guild who have him employed as an outside advisor. Its all quite standard I assure you." He said in a surprisingly baritone voice.

"Are you sure?" The guard asked, the suspicion still lingering in his eyes.

"Quite, how many men do you know with a dog that size? Now if you don't mind I'm a healer and people are bleeding to death." The Healer said impatiently, turning away from the Guard and Sondil before another word could be said.

"Ok I guess you check out, what do you want?"

"A drink, would you mind instructing the guards to load any of the deceased into this cart? I'll be in the Dancing Guar waiting, tell me when your done." Sondil said, before the Guard could shout him back he slipped off his seat and walked briskly into the club, examining the upended tables and pools of blood dotted around the room. "Barman, I'll have a large red wine please." he added to a wild looking Imperial stood behind the bar drinking a glass of whatever his proffered drink was, Oberon growled quietly as he came closer to the bar, eyes locked onto the Imperial.

Benedictus, Half a Mile Outside Chorrol, Cyrodiil

The Argonian studied the strange figure walking up the stone road while prepping his crossbow as quietly as possible in case the figure was a Bandit. Or worse. He could tell by the figures stance that it was male - females had a more feminine stride to their footsteps. Ben pulled back the crossbow's bow string and placed a single well-sharpened bolt on the stock and steadily aimed towards the approaching figure.
He had liked this crossbow ever since he had spotted it before the vampirism. Benedictus had purchased the weapon at a low-quality shop. The crossbow was old, and broken but it was cheap and Ben repaired it and brought it back to it's former glory. The memory of being inside of building caused the lizard to unexpectedly sigh. It had been almost a year since he last stepped foot inside a building, or a city for that sake.

Benedictus quickly shook his nerves and concentrated back on the figure, whom was now so close that the vampire could tell that he was a Nord, judging by his facial features and hair and that he was young, possibly just a teenager. The thought of killing someone so young made the reptile lower his crossbow.
The boy sat down a few feet from the path that lead up to where Ben was camping, although Ben took the precaution of moving his supplies out of eye-sight in case the Nord peered in. The Argonian himself hid in a thick growth of what he thought was either a bush or a tree several meters away from the clearing and the boy. Now that he was closer, the Templar could study the boy closer.
He didn't look like a Bandit wearing that brown robe, and sporting a large quarterstaff. Although he could have been a Hedge Wizard, a ... very young Hedge Wizard.

Your being paranoid... He mentally alerted himself, Being a vampire made you a little overprotective of your identity. A sudden rustling from the forest on the opposite side of the road caused Ben gripped the crossbow's handle tightly and squint his eyes to peer into the woods. He couldn't see anything at first, then caught a glimpse of a silhouette on the stone floor shining in the moon light. It looked human at first glimpse, but there was a chance it just could have been an animal. However, Benedictus didn't want to take a risk - He quietly positioned himself so if something came out of the woods he could be quick to react.

ooc: Me tired, me sleep...

Jimri, Cyrodill, Applewatch inn
Jimri felt a pang of irritation at the woman's humble attitude. "No need to Ma'am me. I'm no nobility, just an artist with rich patrons.". She followed at her own rhythm as the young woman almost ran away and locked herself in, idly wondering what she might be running from. Too much time on the woods shave left her awkward enough around peoples that she'd rather avoid them ? Or is it something else ? I don't know why, but I feel there's something special about her... Bah, I'll have time to poke my nose into it.

Soon she reached her own room, noticing with satisfaction the fire warming the room and the large, steaming, tub in a corner. She quickly stripped down, then quickly washed herself next to the tub before getting in as was her habit. A bath is better enjoyed when you're clean. Macerating in the leftover of your washing is gross. Only a barbarian would enjoy it, and I'm sick of them.

With a delighted moan she immersed herself in, letting the warmth get through her body. She noticed with satisfaction some snowflakes drifting in front of her window. I'm glad I reached the village in time. I don't risk dying from exposure now, but it wold have been a really crappy night. But I'm here, getting soaked in warm water and watching it from a warm place. Great. Jimri relaxed for quite a while, only leaving when the water turned tepid. The only interruption in her bliss was the maid picking up her clothes for washing.

Leaving the tub like you would an old friend, Jimri opened what few luggages she was hauling around, picking what she called her dozing off outfit. She draqed in the nightgown ? a thick woolen affair, about four sizes too big and worn smooth and soft, savoring it's warmth. Then she picked up her slippers, and as usual barely held a giggle at the silly things. She had found them in Bruma, where the nordic majority made finding shoes fit for her small feet a bit of chore. They were kid's slipper, made out of fur, shaped to look like bunnies and dyed fiercely pink... But also sinfully comfortable. That's funny, since I've been given the Dark Gift, natural cold don't hurt me much but I feel it way more. Maybe because I've lost the warmth of life... No matter what, I like being warm, and I don't give a fig on what I look like as long as I'm comfortable.

Now at ease, Jimri walked a bit around her room, checking the lock and peering outside. A pleased smile came to her lips a the result of her inspection. The locks are a child's play, I could pick them in my sleep. And there's alway the windows. It seems my unknown woodswoman left her shutters open, I can pay her a visit if I want. I'd better not skimp on magic though, her sort tends to be light sleepers.... Once done, she simply sprawled on a chair in front of the fireplace, content with dozing off and soaking in the warmth.

Nytt - Applewatch Inn - Cyrodiil

Nytt listened to Robert and nodded, "Aye, who would've thought that vampires would look after mortals?" He chuckled and finished off his ale, "But in all honesty, I'm somewhat concerned by the increase in vampires and werewolves - Not that it's not nice to meet new vampires. But before hand it was quite rare to see vampires and even rarer to see a werewolf." He spoke, his voice was hushed so others wouldn't hear him. "But, we could all do with less werewolves." He added with a wide grin, he wasn't a fan of his furry companions. He never found their company enjoyable - it always got out of hand when they transformed and all the werewolves Nytt had ever spoken to all thought they were the most powerful things since Molag Bal himself. Twits...

"But, enough of that, she's been gone long enough, fancy taking a quick look see?"

OOC: I'm really sorry Lord Veneficus I don't mean to make Acerbus feel ignored, I'm just not sure what he's doing.

Sirius: Morrowind: Balmora

No sooner had Sirius sat down when he was approached by what at first appeared to be a mortal man but some sort of illusioned disguise quickly fell away to reveal a bosmer vampire with shadowed eyes and shoulder length black hair.

"Good evening, Moon Eye. I do not believe we've met. I am Maglir, travelling gentleman, and if you would be so kind as to entertain my questions for a moment, I believe we shall both profit from the venture." The bosmer said.

Sirius titled his head slightly, studying the vampire and his rather odd way of dressing. He was interrupted however by an imperial man entering the club which struck him as odd since most people were doing their best to get as far away from the Dancing Guar as possible. The Imperial poured himself a drink and stood at the bar looking around at the destroyed room.
"Cheers friends." He said in an unusually high spirited tone. Sirius raised an eyebrow ever so slightly; there was something odd about that man and a very faint scent of something not quite human which Sirius had learnt to place as a were-creature. He was about to return his attention back to the vampire when the bar tender came in through a door behind the bar.

"What a mess." He sighed, as the guard tidied up Arvisi's body as best he could before hoisting her onto his shoulder to take her body outside.
"It's those hunters, they somehow convinced themselves there would be no less than 2 vampires here making trouble. I haven't seen anything unusual so they must have been misled."
"I just wish they wouldn't pick my club to do this in."

Sirius smelt him before he saw him this time. The necromancer was back. Back with the harsh smell of the dead and dried blood. Had the necromancer killed someone? Or maybe his profession just meant he smelt of dead people constantly.
"Barman, I'll have a large red wine please." As the atlmer drank his wine, the dog he had seen him with earlier walked in and sat at the atlmers heals, this time his eyes were locked onto the Imperial.
Sirius eyed the dog and then finally looked back at the vampire.

"Very odd folk around here this evening" he said in an offhand way, "And please, call me Sirius. That name, although it is quite fitting and I do like it, it does inspire the guards to try and chase after me, I don't really want to drawn attention to myself tonight so Sirius is my preferred name. What can I do for you Maglir?"

Bran, half a mile from chorrol

There were three bandits, who had taken... financial intrest on the boy. They speaded out in the surrounding woods and hid under the shadows. One was built like a mountain, an orc of pure muscle. The other two were smaller. A redguard with a bow and a scar over his left eye and then a dark elf with a blue robe, indicating that he was a mage.

The redguard was the closest to little boy Bran, and he was also the leader for his intelligence. He waited until the other two were in position and once Bran had seated himself on the grass, he motioned the others to move closer. While the redguard did that, he snuck behind Bran as quietly as he could. Slowly the redguard drew a knife from his belt but the sound alarmed Bran and he turned around. Once he noticed the wicked grin on the man's face and feel the drawn dagger at his throat, his eyes grew larger and he was close to panic.

But the panic passed quickly as something took over Bran. He stood up before the redguard could react, but it caused the blade to nick Bran's cheek. The boy didn't seem to notice but his eyes, they had a bright golden glow and something feral in them. Suddenly the quarter staff came crashing down at the redguard's head. The staff never landed as the mage cast a paralyzation spell on the boy.

The orc came to them last and looked a bit sulky for missing out on the fun. The redguard however thought he had won and thus unaware of something in the woods.

(kind of a blah post, I still cant pull of an action post.)

Aric Cyrodill Outskirts of AppleWatch - Cyrodill

For weeks he had trailed the scent, trying to figure out the story behind it, leading him through many dead bodies, some half eaten, and many different change in track marks. It was confirmed that an infection had taken place, and from the look of the carnage he had been following, it was a fresh one. This has been the first sighting of my kind for quite some time.. the hunts must be greatly increasing in number of late.. Aric thought as he stopped and knelt down, trying to catch the scent again. There was a faint aroma amongst the scent, and it threw him off guard for a moment as he breathed it in.

Perfume.. well this may prove to be challenging after all. This thought made the Nord sigh. Women were much harder to teach, especially as he was a man, and she would most likely think that when he approaches her, that he is there for another reason completely, which isn't on the man's agenda at all. at least for the moment any how.

As the evening approached he spied a small settlement ahead, where a much stronger scent began to overwrite the smell of the female Werewolf.. The smell of death. This could only mean a couple of things, and this only quickened the man's paces towards the source. Dropping to all fours, Aric moved quickly towards the door of the inn, and stood at the nearby window. No-one appeared to be dead or gravely injured, which meant only one other thing. That vampires were inside as well. Even though he was one of the highest ranking werewolves in the guild he belonged to, he still despised them. But there were a couple that he tolerated. One was the leader, and the other was a peculiar vampire, that so happened to be inside the inn.

But being tolerated, didn't always mean they were liked, and as Aric opened the door to enter the building his ears picked up a familiar voice, and he immediately turned his gaze upon the Mystic elf and the Breton. The smell of death was strong on these two. A low growl emanated from his throat as he heard the words, and walked slowly past the inn-keeper who had a looked like a child playing with a mudcrab, only to get pinched by the thing after putting his hand too close.

"I can hear so much trust for us in your tone of voice.. Nytt" Aric said as he reached the two vampires. The female was definitely in the vicinity but the scent led to the floor above. The full moon was to appear soon, and the sooner he met this woman, the easier it will be for her when she is taught basic control of her bestial nature.

"Yeah... I think we should probably..." Robert said, but quickly was interrupted when a huge nord entered the room. Robert had never seen the man before, but he certainly seemed intimidating enough. He raised and faced the man, on guard by all this talk about imperials and werewolves.

"Can I help you, Nord?" Robert said, in a not too friendly tone. The nord, two metres tall, could probably crush Robert in one hand should he want to. He looked over at Nytt again, before letting his hand fall to his sword again.

Seeing the Breton rise up, the Nord's eyes narrowed as the man reached from his sword. "Who said that i required aid from the likes of you?" Aric replied, still trying to pick up the scent of the woman he had trailed. "Or perhaps i do, depending on if your intentions. I would advise against use of that blade in such a crowded place" For a moment Aric glanced around the room before returning his gaze to the two men. "There was a female that entered the inn some time ago. I need to find her, as are my best interests that i do before those not in the 'game' as some put it are hurt"

The scent was definitely coming from the floor above, which meant she had retired to her room. sometimes a challenge is what i need. Aric thought to himself, as he picked up another scent that was easily picked out from the mortal men and women in the building. However for the moment this did not concern him, unless they were planning on something.

Him? Godamnit.. Nytt sighed but bowed to guild member. "This is Aric, one of the leaders in our guild." Nytt told Robert, "She's all yours Aric, I was just enjoying a drink here with a friend of mine." He added motioning for Robert to calm down, he didn't want to let Aric know that they also planned on searching the place for her. After all - If Aric was on the job, he could probably do it better than Nytt. The brute better not ruin the tavern. he thought.

"Infact, Aric, we were also just about to search for her, perhaps you can let us handle this? You werewolves aren't renowned for your subtlety. We are both well known around here - It would be a shame for the locals to rise up against us if anything, suspicious were to happen." He spoke quietly and winked. You best agree to it pup! Nytt remarked, knowing full well that the creature could just choose to ignore Nytt's words entirely and do it his own way.

Robert, Applewatch, Cyrodiil

"Oh right, I didn't know we were expecting fine guests like this big stubborn nord. If I did, why, I might even have dressed in farmhand's clothes, to make sure you felt right at home, Aric." Robert said, before looking at Nytt again. A sodding werewolf... Here... We'll most likely be chased away from here by farmers with torches. And sticks. And [censored] me, but the full moon is right around the corner he thought and shook his head.

"Whatever you figure out, do please try and save some ale along with the barkeep, I'm quite fond of both. I know it might be hard for a man like you to behave like a civilized being, but please, for Nytt's sake, do try." he added with a wink at Aric.

Robert was sure the nord could handle himself, and was probably just as nice as the other fellow, but he didn't need him to know that. He might try something fishy...

OOC: First post sorry if its short just wanted to make myself known


Isaac phalos, balmoras gate

Isaac was at the entrance of balmorals looking for a man who goes by moon eye they say he is the oldest vampire in tamriel he also heard he was the leader of the dark bloods guild witch was known around these parts and Isaac wanted in. As he entered the main area of balmora he could sense that moon eye was near and followed wear it was. After about 2 minutes he found two men he knew wear vampires from the way he could feel their energy and one was the presence he felt before the man with the scared eye.

"Excuse me gentlemen but I need to talk to you moon eye if its you and if it is want to join your guild" Isaac said

Jimri, Cyrodill, Applewatch inn

Now that she was warm and at ease, Jimri's mind drifted back to he unknown breton girl. I wonder why she's nagging at my thoughts that way. Sure high society table manners in what seems for all intent and purpose a huntress dressed in Legion castoffs is an interesting oddity. But as an artist I've met more than my fair share of odd peoples and none of them ever drew my attention that way. It's probably the Gift playing a new trick one me... But I'll have to do something, but what ?

After some reflexion, Jimri decided it wasn't yet time to pay her a visit. Neither waking her up, nor sneaking into her room are a good introduction. But she don't seems to have much interest in conversation. A letter maybe ? Considering how she eats, she's almost certainly educated enough to read. Sounds good. And I even have a good excuse for it.

Rummaging through the room's furniture, Jimri managed to find some writing implements. Soon she had written her letter, in a delicate script, with the sort of flourishes one might expect from an artist. To make sure the author of the message was obvious, she rubbed a few drops of perfume on the paper.

Greetings.
We've met very briefly before you went to your room. I have the impression you are familiar with outdoors living. If indeed you have such skills, is it possible to hire them ?.
I'm planning to spend a few days in Applewatch before getting back to Bruma, but I would prefer to have some experienced company for the travel.
If you're interested in my proposition, you will be able to meet me downstairs in the late morning.
Jimri

Here it is, it should do the trick. I don't think she's loaded enough with gold to ignore my offer. Now, let's post my message. Jimri quietly stood up and moved to her door, not caring about her looks. Style be damned, I'm resting and all that matters is comfort. Then she slipped her note under the Elliana's door, making sure it would stick out visibly inside, before heading back to her own room.

As the two Vampires spoke, Aric held his tongue, but another low growl was heard are he listened to the smart comments. "I see your company believes he has a sense of humor" Aric muttered before returning his gaze to the mystic elf. "And what are your intention's regarding her? For all i know, you both have already scared her off trying to talk with her. Unlike your kind when someone is a newly turned werewolf, they don't tend to want such attention from strangers. But if she has half a sense, picking up my scent may calm her enough for at least some conversation."

Aric did not know what the two vampires' agenda was involving the imperial woman, but Aric did not like it one small bit. "Very well," Aric spoke after contemplating what Nytt had said. "However, i will be waiting outside, as i can see this turning out to be more complicated than it seems. She is most likely scared, and the first thing one does when others are trying to get into your room after knowing what you have become is flee, as those who are trying to find you may want you dead. Just saying is all"

With that said the Nord looked around once more, before turning. Before leaving, however he looked back at Nytt briefly. "I need to speak with you later about pressing matters, when this situation is settled, Nytt" The werewolf said before heading towards the door.

Darion, Balmora.

When the bartender, the real bartender, came through the door behind the counter, Darion was surprised, but not alarmed. Either the situation wasn't as serious as the guards had let on earlier, or they were just really sloppy at keeping people out. In either case, more people continued to enter the bar.

"Barman, I'll have a large red wine please." Darion turned to the Altmer sitting at the counter, who had obviously been addressing him. Not that he could blame the Elf; he was standing behind the counter after all, drinking as he pleased. Why not assume he was the bartender? It was, however, the other man behind the counter who served the Altmer his drink, before turning his attention to Darion himself.

"Well, you seem to have the situation well in hand," Darion bluffed coolly, betting his swill-dealing comrade wouldn't call it. "I guess I'll leave you to it then, eh?" Darion silently hoped that he had come off as a convincing employee, as he made his way over the top of the counter without even a modicum of grace.

"Hey, but I-" Darion outright ignored the protests of the man behind him. The only thing that kept him from heading straight to the other side of the bar and enjoying what was left of his Nordic beverage was the faint growling of an animal near the bar. Turning around, he caught a glimpse of the dog accompanying the wine-tottling Altmer, glaring at him. Darion looked back at the Elf.

"That dog of yours is cool, right?" Darion asked the Elf, keeping up an air of nonchalance, despite a slight unease brought on by the mutt. "I mean, he's not rabid or anything, is he?"

Sondil



Sondil was quite confused when a second barman appeared to serve his drink and the first vacated the bar area, but he accepted the drink non the less, casually forgetting to pay as the barman's attention was called onto the Imperial fleeing from the scene of his free drinking crime.


"That dog of yours is cool, right?" The Imperial asked Sondil. "I mean, he's not rabid or anything, is he?"

"He is yes, but only when I ask him to be, or when somebody angers or assaults me. He doesn't like it when I'm in danger." Sondil said, pacing towards the Imperial, listening to what Oberon was telling him all the while.

A were-creature you say? How interesting, how very very interesting indeed. Sondil thought to himself as Oberon confirmed what the Imperial was with his over keen nose. It wasn't something Men or Mer could just pick up, it was a beastial thing strictly between Animals and Were-creatures and perhaps vampires too. But Sondils only hope of identifying a were-creature himself would be to encounter if on a full moon, or have it tell him.

"Wont you join me for a drink? I have a proposition for you." Sondil said as he walked over to a private booth and sat down with his wine, Oberon laying on the floor beside his feet in a protective manner. "Bar keep, get my friend another drink, no wait, make that a pitcher. Two pitchers? One for him? No, one pitcher and a bottle of wine please. Thankyou." he added, guided and corrected by Oberon as he messed up the request.

"Please, sit." He said to the Imperial, waving his hand to the seat opposite. "My name is Sondil Telind."

Before the tall elf could answer, a scruffy looking Imperial entered the bar, smiling as he stole a drink from the bar, "Cheers friends." He said, holding up his dark, frothy glass. His black Imperial hair went every which way, and his stubble appeared several days old. 'Not a very respectable appearance, but he looks nice enough.'

Just as the Imperial was taking his first sip, the real bartender returned. Maglir thought he would tell the man off for stealing his liquor, but instead he mumbled something over his dead singer. He then picked her up roughly by the waist, hoisting her onto his shoulder and taking his leave outside.

Before Maglir could even turn back to his new acquaintance across the table, the door swung open yet again, this time revealing the same smelly Altmer and his large dog. Maglir flinched back slightly at the sight of the dog, but soon controlled himself as the elf began speaking, "Barman, I'll have a large red wine please." Apparently he thought the travel worn Imperial was in fact the bartender, a thought that returned the Bosmer to his gallant smile.

The tall elf Maglir now knew as Moon Eye began speaking just as the Bosmer was turning his head back to him, more or less ignoring the new arrivals to focus on his goal, "Very odd folk around here this evening" he said in an offhand way, "And please, call me Sirius. That name, although it is quite fitting and I do like it, it does inspire the guards to try and chase after me, I don't really want to drawn attention to myself tonight so Sirius is my preferred name. What can I do for you Maglir?"

Despite his somewhat rushed tone, Sirius seemed rather friendly, and Maglir figured he would have no trouble at all extracting the information he needed.

"Ah, excellent, Sirius it is then." Maglir said, smiling, "Well, my friend, I have travelled long and far looking for one particular man. As I came upon this quaint town, I decided to try the local tavern, ignorant of the violence that was about to ensue, or its cause." He chuckled softly, bowing his head slightly in order to remove his sude top hat, "That man, as I am sure you have realized, is none other than the mysterious Moon Eye, the only name I could get from a strange hermit in the West Weald. I have been searching due to a certain, ah, fluctuation I have noticed in my powers. I am by no means a very informed vampire, having never joined these clans most of the others seem to favor so highly, and found myself quite alarmed by this change."

He paused for a moment, his face becoming serious, "I feared the worst, and so decided to seek out one of my brethren so they could more easily assist me in my quest for knowledge. After much detective work, and more than a few months of travel, I had recieved the name of one of the oldest remaining vampires. Or at least, that is what I am told."

He paused again, not wanting to say too much in such a short period, though he had no problems of running out of breath, "Well, in short, I have questions pertaining to our nature. If you do not want to discuss these matters here I understand, I might have said too much already, though I trust our new associates by the bar are of no threat. Basically I must know, are these changes happening to everyone, and more importantly, are they dangerous?"

His face was grave, his air of relaxed charm gone, his red eyes flashing like rubies in the torchlight.


EDIT: Ah, it seems we had somewhat of a mix up. Well, if you don't mind, I'll leave my post as it is. You two are conversing on your own, no?

Nytt - Applewatch - Cyrodiil

As the werewolf walked off, Nytt rolled his eyes at Robert, "Well mate, looks like you were right afterall.. A werewolf." Nytt said and shook his head in surprise. Just then, Jones walked over, "Uhh, you alright guys? That man wasn't causing you any trouble was he?" Jonas asked curiously, "Should I be worried about him?" He added with a hint of fear.

Nytt smiled, "Hardly Jones, he's nothing but a puppy, trust me." he said and clapped the man on the shoulder, "However, what you should be worried with is the woman that came in today, we just learnt she's quite a trouble maker, if you tell us what room she's in, we'll take her outside and have a word with her- no harm will come of your inn, I promise." Nytt spoke and held his smile, he hoped Jones would give them the room number - It would make everything so much more interesting.

Jones shifted slightly and looked from Robert to Nytt, "Troublemaker you say? Well.. I guess I don't want my inn ruined.." He spoke, his voice had the hint of worry, "It was room number 4, here- I'll even give you a key. But don't ruin the inn and be quiet, guests are sleeping." He added urgently and nodded at his decision, "But yes.. The key." He said and walked over to the counter.

"Thanks Jones, we'll look after this inn, it's like our home away from home."

Robert nodded. "We'll take every precaution we can. I don't know what I would do should this inn disappear from the maps." he assured the innkeep, hoping he was sounding calm enough. His mind, however, was not so sure. The full moon would soon rise, and Robert was not so sure the two of them could take on a fully transformed werewolf. Atleast not quietly. They would have to get her out of there, preferably before she turned. Outside it wouldn't be too hard to keep her pinned down until she transformed back and they could get her the hell away from Applewatch.

As soon as Jones returned to the bar, Robert closed in on Nytt. "We have to get her out, and before she turns. I can't imagine the inn has room doors capable of keeping a werewolf inside. Worst case, she'll break out and kill/burn the whole inn."

Benedictus, Half a mile outside Chorrol

The three bandits had seemingly materialized out of the forest, creeping like shadows in the night. The first move was by a Redguard that positioned himself behind the Nord - near Ben's campsite. the nord caught wind of it and turned around, although the Bandit was on him like a mountain lion pouncing at it's prey, the Redguard pressed a steel dagger up to the boys neck and the Argonian hidden in the bushes could tell that the boy was on the brink of panic, before he somehow escaped the Redgaurd's grasp and stood to his feet.
Benedictus was thoroughly surprised that the boy was trying to resist, he had almost clubbed the lead Bandit on the head but the dunmer mage had hit him with a paralyzing spell.

The teenager's limp body fell over, and the three bandits circled him like vultures. Ben bit his lower lip angrily, he could not understand what type of people could make a good living off of murdering innocents. They were savage, brutish, not caring about the pain and suffering they conducted on unlucky travelers.
The lizard monitored them before planning his attack. The mage and the Dunmer were crouched down next to the Nord's body, the redguard was preparing to finish his job whilst the Dark elf seemed eager to claim the Nord's clean smooth brown Robe over his Blue and dirty one.
The orc stood a few feet away from the trio on the edge of the road, a large steel warhammer held firmly in his hands, the large orc's gaze seemed focused on something down the street.

Ben trained the crossbow on the backside of the blue-clad Dunmer. He could dispatch the Redguard easily and the orc could prove to be a fun challenge. The Argonian didn't need the mage alive so he could use the same tactic he did on the boy, no need to award the bandits with armor and weapons.

Benedictus pulled back the trigger, causing the bow string to snap forwards and launch the bolt. The Dunmer gasped in surprise as he heard a high-pitched buzz and then a sharp pain in his back, his expression was that of both agony and shock. The elf blinked awkwardly one last time before slumping down on his side. Once the dunmer was down, the Templar sprung into action, he emerged from the bushes sword drawn and lurched towards the confused bandits.
The Orc was the first to act, swinging the warhammer down towards his comrades killer, hoping to bash his head in and avenge his fallen friend although Benedictus was smarter then that, he quickly dodged the hammer with a side-step and ran past the orc. His focus was on the Redguard, whom was trying to withdraw his bow. By the time he had brought his bow around and pulled an arrow out of the quiver, the vampire was upon him.
In a desperate chance to shield himself, the Redguard raised his bow horizontally over his head, leaving his lower abdomen completely exposed. Ben slashed his longsword through the Bandit's stomach, deep enough to cripple, but no to kill. The bandit yelled loudly before falling on his back, dropping his and instead grasped his stomach.

ooc: Had to hurry the end up, I've got to go do something...